I think, therefore iPod

When I first got my iPod, I had no inclination to figure out how to load music onto it, so some nice people started me out by putting music on it for me. Over time, I started to load music myself, but my total playlist is a bit of an anomaly compared to most people's. After all, what is our iPod but a carefully curated image of what we think of ourselves?

Certainly as teens, we all know that music equals identity. How cool am I? My music will tell you that. What group am I in? What fashion do I like? The iPod houses our playlist of identity, of coolness, of self-image. Our iPods are the personal artifacts that will tell the archaeologist everything about us as individuals.

So, how to explain "Groove is in the Heart" on mine? Who put that on there for me? It's kind of fun when I'm taking my exceedingly boring exercise walks through South Florida suburbia to hear a song come on that I would never have chosen and try to guess who put it on there for me. I also frequently find myself squinting at the tiny letters on the screen trying to find out just what it is I'm listening to. This is how I learned that the soundtrack from Spring Awakening could cause pretty much anyone to become suicidal, but that I really like the Goo Goo Dolls. Or that, while I somewhat like the Talking Heads, I don't need the extended, live version of every song they've ever done. Please, just "take me to the river" and drown me after the second minute.

As a personal identity machine, then, my iPod is not doing its job. While I can tell you all about the music I liked as a teen, I've gradually lost my grip on who does what music now. There are no albums with interesting covers and lyrics to study anymore. There's just this ethereal downloading process of a song here or a song there. When I hear a contemporary song I like, I know I know it, but I couldn't tell you who is singing it or what it's called. Music has become random, difficult to connect to, and my iPod in particular is a random collection put haphazardly together by not just me.

So, the next time you see me walking with my earbuds in, please don't judge me if I'm humming Britney Spears. Because as Sting would say, "you still know nothing 'bout me."