16 September 2008
If I ever have a son, I am never naming him Ike. Don't get me wrong, I like Eisenhower as much as the next person, but Hurricane Ike (which was actually Tropical Depression Ike by the time it hit Chicago)--that I'm not such a fan of. I don't like Ike because it dumped enough rain to do this to the North Branch:
Which caused this:
On the plus side, class was cancelled for today. I do like that.
at 1:23:00 AM
08 September 2008
I had thought of writing a long post full of sentiment and wit detailing the following, but I find that stuffy words simply don't have the exuberant effect of:
To be completely fair,
We've been engaged for a month!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
but it doesn't really have the same ring to it, don't you think?
at 1:50:00 AM
My iPod bit the dust.
This post is coming late, because in all reality I should have updated this as soon as I got back from England with the sad, sad news. I will admit, I've just been in denial. I'm ready now to make my peace and admit it: my days with my iPod mini are officially over. Here's how it happened: you know all those myths about it raining all the time in England--that slow, seeping rain that gets into everything and never stops? Yeah, they're all true. I don't, however, blame that type of precipitation on the demise of my main method of listening to music...it's just a scene setting for a much sadder story....
You see, my final day in Oxford was particularly wretched in the precipitation department, and the fact that I had to trudge through downtown Oxford with a thirty-pound (weight, not currency) backpack in the rain, over the cobblestones (which actually got a verbal lashing by yours truly when I slipped one too many times), and toward a bus headed to London was not a particularly amusing state of my existence at the time. I was soaked. I was tired. I was that curious combination of cold and sweaty that accompanies most utterly frustrating moments like this one. All I looked forward to was to retreat into the dry oasis of the London Espress (yes, Espress...apparently they're too posh to use that vulgar letter 'x' in England) bus, turn on some tunes, and nap until I reached the city. I was thrilled to have the driver deposit my backpack underneath the bus and happily took a seat next to an older lady reading a romance novel who smelled faintly of pea soup. A good traveling companion, I thought. I pulled out my (dry...I'm not that silly) iPod as the bus lurched into High Street, plugged in my headphones and zoned out to the melodious tones of The Postal Service. All was well with the world.
We were well out of Oxford and on the highway when I heard "Such Great Heights" again on my playlist. Odd, but not incredibly so; my iPod tends to favor certain artists, and who's to blame it--Ben Gibbard is a genius and I'm glad that my iPod recognizes that. But then I heard John Legend....again. And Coldplay for the second time in five minutes. Did I mention that the particular playlist I had selected was about two hours long? It shouldn't have been repeating this quickly. With much trepidation (I must have known what was coming) I looked down at the screen and pushed the "next" button. The entire playlist advanced before my eyes, scrolling past James Blunt, Michael Buble, and Panic (!) at the Disco (eclectic? I think so) before resting on the same song again.
Yup, my iPod was stuck. It refused to play anything but what it wanted to, with no particular logic to its skips and starts. I suppose all those years of only playing what I wanted finally caught up to it and it snapped, a battle which climaxed in its utter refusal this afternoon to even turn on. Vive la Revolucion, iPod! You, my musical minion, are officially liberated. I am officially sad.
at 12:53:00 AM