Zen Micro, continued: The Sounds of Struggle

I've always been able to pretty easily navigate my way around computer stuff. My basic philosophy is, "pushing lots of buttons never broke anything." The Fells, family friends of my childhood, might disagree after I tried this form of experimentation with their garage door opener, but it really didn't cause THAT much sparking.

Anyway, I've seen how some people become instantly attached to their iPods, as if those white cords are the new umbilicals. I'm not so much that person. But the truth is, I've always liked being able to hear the world around me. To my detriment, even. I'd probably be better at my job if I closed off the noise around me and focused more directly on the task at hand. Well, I'd be better at some parts of my job. But not the parts -- increasingly large parts -- that involve social lubrication. I don't mean anything sexy, just the talking, the listening, the bossing, the cajoling that it takes to get things done.

The last time I was really a headphones-closing-out-the-world person was high school. I had a Sony cassette Walkman, near the top of the line, and I was using it to wear out my tape of "Paradise Theater" by Styx. Sheesh. The music choice makes me shake my head. Overall, I played the soundtrack to "Footloose" more in that era, but that was in the company of others, and involved some singing and dancing along that should have been embarrassing but wasn't. I'd listen to my Walkman on the bus to basketball games and swim meets, so I will forever associate it with rainy drives to Hoquiam and athletic mediocrity. Those were times when I had nothing else to do but close off my ears. Those buses were noisy, and I don't remember much talking. Or maybe I didn't fit in so well with my fellow athletes. Honestly, I don't recall. Some of my friends of longest standing were on those teams. But even though I wore my softball team windbreaker with more pride than I should have, I always felt a little like a girl apart.

This is the usual point in my introspection when the hazes of time take over and I fall short of any sort of true insight. I'm certainly more open to insight now than in previous times in my life. Maybe I felt like distance because I had to so I didn't fall in love with any of my teammates. Hell, maybe I did fall in love with some of my teammates and buried all those feelings under Dennis DeYoung's longing for the golden days of the Paradise Theater and Tommy Shaw's complaints of too much time on his hands.

Maybe the only reason I'm not taking to my Zen navigating is because I don't have too much time on my hands. Maybe it's because I'm (much) closer to 40 than 20. Maybe it's because the iPod truly has a better more intuitive interface, but honestly, I'm more likely to embrace my gray hairs than fall in line with the pod people.