Every time I access the internet at work I'm confronted with yet another add for the iPod shuffle thing. And while I am intrigued by a gadget that weighs less than a pack of gum yet will randomly shoot at my eardrums music from my personal collection, I'm a little afraid of the implications. Continuing the literary analysis applied to real life from yesterday, it amazes me that we, meaning Society with a capital S, are so willing to sacrifice choice, control, independence of thought on the altar of chance and do-it-for-me mentalities. Sure I like having a Postal Service song followed by Peter Gabriel, but only when I make the mix. Maybe I just feel threatened that my singular talent of creating bizarre mixes featuring at least one nostalgic-induced track has become obselete. Shuffle indeed.
On my desk is a large bag of Sweethearts, those disgusting, flavorless, chalky hearts with cheesy sentimentality stamped onto them. The bag is red and the hearts are green, white, purple, pink, orange, and yellow. Which is the order I'll eat them in, ignoring the "Kiss Me" "Marry Me" "Be Mine" corporate messages.
I walked through the Bookstore yesterday to find a new calendar. Not that I really want to be the means of my roommates announcing their personal lives to the world on our wall, but there was a calendar earlier this month with brilliant shots of London that I thought would be the cause of much rejoicing, at least on a personal level. The calendar was no longer there, so I checked out my other options. Puppies. Flowers--more specifically, roses. Romantic Europe. Dead people. More puppies. Nothing really tempted me. I mean, the Chinese Propaganda was cool, but doesn't really go with my eclectic apartment. So the great calendar hunt continues.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Way to ruin my commentary. Logic is so overrated.
Yeah. What he said.
Why are you taking his side? Ouch. So much for female solidarity.
Post a Comment