Wired for Sound or I’m Ready to Become Bionic

Hi F&F,

It’s bleak. It’s chilly, grey and rainy. No semblance of
what is commonly called Springtime in sight. I’m not enticed to leave my lair.

Weather like this morphs me into a super slacker; tapping  my DVD collection until I have plaid eyeballs; or alternately, I become super productive. Purging my magazine rack or untangling and sorting my jewelry box are just a few of my favorite rainy day activities.

Today, I am moved towards the latter end of the spectrum.  Today, I will sanitize my apartment.  My game plan is to attack the apartment like a clock; starting at the 12 o’clock  position (the front door) and working my way around clockwise until finished, exhausted or bored.

When I’m in this mode, I need music to keep me moving.  While a Swifter, Murphy’s Oil Soap and Mr. Clean Eraser sponges (thanks Liza for turning me on to the eraser sponge) are useful supplies for the task at hand; music adds the muscle.

Pandora, the internet radio program on my smartphone, is  perfect for this exercise. Just a few taps on the screen and a virtual DJ selects the soundtrack to direct my steps.

My cleaning supplies in hand; check. Ear buds in place; check;
I have at it; but wait…the whistle while you work comes to a halt; just as Donnie McClurkin is telling me to Just Stand my ear buds fall down; and don’t seem to want to get up.  Damn; another pair of earbuds bite the dust just as I begin to dust the bookshelves.

The planned obsolescence conspiracy surrounding earbuds  and portable headphones is a trigger for me; the match that ignites my usually very long fuse. I believe the breakdown of my earbuds is an example of corporate greed overshadowing excellence; and profits taking priority over people and the environment. I perceive the breakdown of my earbuds as representative of the breakdown of society; evidence that the world is going to hell in a hand-basket. I’m a little miffed.

So I do the dance. It’s called the wire wiggle and jiggle. Certainly you know it.  I don’t think I’m alone in this. You bump, grind, push, pull the cord to hit the sweet spot  where sweet music gushes forth. Finally, I find it.  Ahh…so good; back to work.

Whoops…I lost it.

It was just a tease.  The music drops out again.  I dance a little more and it’s back.  I move an inch and I lose it again.  I keep trying, and become like that rat experiment you learn about in Psychology 101.

You know the experiment I’m talking about. This poor rat is enticed to push a button for a tasty morsel of Purina Rat Chow. Over and over the rat pushes the button and gets the treat.  It’s a fair deal and life is good. Good until the sadist in the lab coat decides to renege on the deal. Now when the rat hits the button; sometimes it gets the reward and other times; nada.

Now that Mr. Man is not regular with the payoff, you’d
think the rodent would scamper off; no play without pay but, no.  The rat pushes the stupid button more franticly; hoping for another hit of RC.

That experiment feels a little like my last job (which is one of the reasons I’m no longer there) and a lot like what’s going on with me as I fiddle with my earbuds. I could have scampered away and turned on my stereo but, like the rat hooked on the yummy RC; I’m hooked on music through my earbuds. The sound is delicious and addictive. Every note injected directly into my ear canal is pure and uncut by the constant low level environmental hum of my apartment. (Have you noticed how your home can be quiet but, it never is silent?)

Music through a good pair of buds is like crack for your  ears. The listening pleasure is so intense and immediate; you have to have it. The music through the stereo speakers don’t satisfy in the same way.

If you looked in my junk draw (we all have one; right)  you would find a ball of mating snakes; a tangled mass of broken earbuds; the paraphernalia of my addiction.

I want the addiction to end. I’m tired of paying through  the nose; or ear; or whatever. I want be wired for sound and be bionic.  I’m willing to sign the consent forms to participate  in the clinical trial to install a sub dermal Wi-Fi enabled mp3 player somewhere on my person.

I want to cut the wires that bind me but, until then, with my workflow having flown the coop; a DVD will serve as my Methadone.

Let’s see; what shall I watch.

I think The Upside of Anger is in order.

Peace,

ATreeGrowsinBrooklyn

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About atreegrowsinbklyn

I’m an analog girl living in a digital world. I’m happy except when I’m sad. I’m serious, smart and sophisticated except when I’m silly, obtuse and crude. I’m ambitious and disciplined; except when I’m apathetic and self indulgent. I‘m thoughtful, generous and honest; except when I’m insensitive, cheap and lying. I’m grateful; I’m grateful; I am grateful.
This entry was posted in Creative Non-Fiction, Curiosities & Oddities, humor, Life, Rant and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Wired for Sound or I’m Ready to Become Bionic

  1. Moe says:

    You need help! LOL! So funny…and true

  2. Susanne says:

    I love, LOVE, love your blog! You give me the spirit I need, just when I need it. Thanks — and you haven’t seen planned obsolescence until you try the Chinese earbuds that are made and used here!

    Eagerly awaiting your next post — yeah, I’m greedy like that!

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