Press Play, Not Fast Forward by Jennifer Barsky

Press Play, Not Fast Forward, by Jennifer Barsky

Press Play, Not Fast Forward

iPods seem to point and laugh at my Sony Walkman. I mean, with good reason. iPods hold days worth of music, and they also have the capability of storing things like games or movies. iPods intimidate my Walkman. My Walkman is an older nearly balding man going through a mid life crisis who is trying to keep up with the ripped younger guys. iPods are those strong, handsome guys that put him to shame. I mean, they probably don't mean to, but they're younger, and they don't quite understand the concept of respecting elders. They clearly have never helped an old women put groceries in her car. I digress. My Walkman frowns an upside down “U.” He's the type that can appreciate a good thing, but hate a meaningless thing. He keeps thinking this over and over and over about himself. With his eyes overflowing with tears, he feels like he's not as good as the other music players- and has nothing to offer to the world anymore. Maybe he's right. I mean, all he does is one simple task, right?

One simple task. When did that become such a problem? I was ecstatic when I got my Walkman! He was my present from my Mawmaw for my seventh birthday. There were a million messy little faces wondering one of two things: what's in the boxes and bags or when the heck are we eating cake? He waited impatiently as I picked up my first present to open – Beanie Baby. He sat wrapped up in green wrapping paper with a white bow on the top, and a card. But no seven year old kid cares about a card right? I focused on that gift like a lioness hunting her freaking prey. He was my present. Then I pounced! And excitedly tore that present down from the pretty bow on the top, to the packaging, ripping out styrofoam and cardboard of different shapes. Then I got down to the heart of the package. I saw my present, and admired him with a large gasp of surprise, excitement, and pure joy. I immediately spat out a great huge thank you to Mawmaw, did the Spanish kiss-on-each-cheek thing, and then returned to my Walkman. He looked back at me with needy dependent eyes. This was the start of a beautiful relationship that others would come to envy.

Soon after that the two of us were inseparable. We have the same horoscope, favorite song and favorite color. We finish each other's sentences and eat, drink, sleep, and sing together on a daily basis. It was not uncommon to see the two of us in the same meadow as Bambi, running toward each other in slow motion and spinning in circles together, with some majestic song playing in the background. Yeah, we were that close. Okay, maybe not. But I mean, we might as well have been because we were always together.

Since my seventh birthday, he's been through a lot, my Walkman. He's been to Spain, France, Mexico, the bathroom, in a back pack, on a bike, on a bus, in a bed, on a walk, in a tree, on a trampoline, to the beach, on a plane, on a chair, in a little maroon colored car, and places he's not supposed to go (school). I remember this one time in school my class was getting a lecture about not having any type of electronics in the classroom. I guess he was feeling mischievous or something, because he started blaring out some crazy techno song, forcing every soul in the room to turn to the jamming backpack at my side. Oops. But like I said, this was just ONE of many times where this type of thing happened. Also, I drop him, I drop him a lot. You can only imagine how many band-aids he's used because of the dives he's taken, and the scrapes, scratches, and scores he's had to endure by being smacked up against the hard hot concrete. I have no clue why he's not in a mummy-like full-body cast by now. And to make matters worse, I am a major klutz. I drop plates, and spill drinks, I trip on nothingness, I fall going up the stairs, and I've dropped every sheet of paper out of a notebook before, so use your imagination to think of the other abuse my poor Walkman has been through. I remember one time I was going up the stairs of my house, jamming out to a Blink-182 song. There was a sweet guitar solo coming up and I went to pull out air guitar, when all the sudden, I couldn't hear the music anymore. I dropped him down fourteen stairs. He landed on his feet with the CD spat out on the floor. I'm good. Don't worry! He said sarcastically, as I rushed down the stairs, examining the CD for scratches before him. I think he probably resents me for it a little, but at the same time, he appreciates me for paying attention to him, not breaking him, and making him more resilient. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I guess.

I don't know if he felt lucky or tortured on his emotional journey. By emotion, of course I'm referring to music. He's been through so much music. And he's grown with me through generations of sounds and melodies from Nat King Cole to the Fall of Troy, and everything in between. He's heard ridiculous things like, “I like big butts and I cannot lie,” the Sir Mix-a-lot style, that make you laugh to the point where you have to cross your legs. He's sobbed in the familiar voice of Terminal, “Remember the years we all spent laughing” with me when my boyfriend liked another girl instead of me. He's smiled with me at cute Beatles lyrics like, “All you need is love” expressing the blissful feeling of being in love. He's conspired with me and Taking Back Sunday about songs of revenge, like, “Don't bother angel, I know exactly what goes on” to get back at people that hurt me. He's raised a quizzical brow at some music, like “Mmm bop, ba duba dop” that the girly-boy Hanson kids sang in the 90's.Did what they say make sense? No, but I like how it sounds anyways. He's told me over and over that I should listen to the guys from Yellowcard because “Everything is going to be all right, be strong, believe.” My Walkman has lived a long, happy life full of music with me with the biggest Cheshire Cat smile on his face. Even now, he sings to me on my way to and from home. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

There comes a point in everyone's life that they have a craving for change.Especially women. So it's no surprise that I felt the need for change, like any other flip-flop minded girl that's had the same freaking music player since first grade. How cool would that be to get a brand new lime green iPod with a touch pad thingy to switch the songs, and turn up the volume? Let's be clear, this idea of getting an iPod was not an act of conformity; I just thought they were freaking awesome. I really admired the technology, and I felt like I deserved something new. I mean, I did take care of my Walkman for that long. So I felt responsible enough to have the shiny, tiny, exciting, new iPod. Little did I know, my Walkman was aware of my wanting to replace him, which was seriously depressing. My Walkman sat like an I-wanna-end-my-life emo kid in a dark corner. He thought to himself, Am I not good enough? I feel like I am, I mean, I still preform the functions I am supposed to, even longer than the average life expectancy. Why would she want to replace me? He felt that he worked just fine, and he really did. After that, he didn't want to play as loud and proudly as usual. What's the point? he thought as he sobbed. The sad thing is, I wasn't crying with him, like he had cried with me.

You see, all this thought process was going on with out me knowing about it. I had no idea he was thinking this way, and I didn't even consider his feelings. I was too busy checking out all of my friends' new iPods and their shiny new iPod covers, to notice how he felt. My friends and I were engaged in deep advanced conversations and discussions about gigabytes, what genres of music were on their iPods, and how much could be stored on them. One of my friends even had an iHome. That's right, it's like a radio that you can put your iPod in, that amplifies the sound, no headphones required. Ooh, and this other friend had this wicked sweet iPod case. Yeah, it was a rubbery pink skin-type-thing that protected the iPod if it was dropped for one reason or another. Freaking iPods came with new toys?! They were so glamorous to me. My friends could take them anywhere, because they weren't as bulky, and they didn't need to carry around CD's either. So what's not to love right? iPods were just all around, a more sensible choice. They could do anything, or so I thought.

With big droopy puppy dog eyes my Walkman decided to confront me about this anticipated change. How could you betray me like this? What does an iPod have that I don't have? he asked. Yeah, there are more artists that can be played at any given moment, but how is that special? “What do you mean? iPods have tons of customizable accessories to make them personal.” I said. A little frustrated, he wiped the wet anger from his eyes and he responded: A CD is like being at a concert, where the band is playing to you, and only you. It's not randomized or picked out by a computer. This concert was selected by you, for your enjoyment. I answered with, “okay, I can understand that, but I don't always want to listen to one artist.” Mixed CD's! he shouted, probably louder than he meant to. Mixed CD's are as personal as it gets. Remember when people used to make CD's for people to flatter or woo them? I nodded, remembering. Well, he continued, that's pretty dang personal. And you can't do that with a dumb iPod. Ah, iPods are the bane of my existence. I mean, they're flashy, arrogant, and have too many things going on at once. I bet they're all on Adderall... They're no good for you, I would know. Just think about it for a second. Who knows that you listened to Blink 182 everyday in seventh grade? Who knows that you listened to Relient K when you were sad, because they always make you smile? Who knows that you like piano music best when it's raining outside? I know you. But an iPod will never know you.

Oh my god, he's right. Our friendship is much more intimate than the relationship between me and a tiny music player the size of a couple pieces of gum. Don't get me wrong, gum is great, that is until it loses it's flavor, and gets spit out in a trash can somewhere insignificant. There's no comparison between something so rich and pure versus artificial and cold. Turning my back on my Walkman would be, to me, like turning my back on my family. If I was always striving for the next big thing (iPods), how shallow does that make me? I know that's bold, but think about it. It's almost like saying that something's not good enough for you, because it's too old. He's right, he is special. Everyone once had a Walkman of their own, that can never be replaced.

What's in an iPod? That which we call a music player
by any other name would play as sweet. Even though these iPods were more convenient, they didn't have the memories, scars, or emotions attached to them. What was I thinking? How in the world could I abandon my most loyal companion who's always been there for me, through thick or thin. Why was I searching for something that I already had? I don't know if I'm the only one who does this or not, but when I listen to music through a pair of headphones, I daydream. I daydream about one of two things: a music video or a concert. In both instances, the particular band that's playing, is playing for me. On an iPod, you aren't at a certain band's concert, you are at everyone's concert. In my opinion, that makes the one concert less significant. And what's the fun in that? How personal is that? I mean, sure iPods are newer, but don't they both play music? They do. And Ben Folds on an iPod is the same as Ben Folds on a Walkman, minus the personal part. If given the choice, I'd choose the concert that reaches out for you through a set of headphones just that band, and that band only. An iPod doesn't soothe you the way that an old Walkman does. When an iPod gets full, it get's erased, and resorted. Not my Walkman. He holds strong and plays exactly what I want, when I want it, and he always has the space for it. I choose my Walkman. So iPods can go on pointing and laughing, but my Sony Walkman is holding strong, and playing loudly and proudly. He knows, all he can do is one simple task, and that's all right.

 

Press Play, Not Fast Forward - Assignment

Essay One – Digital-Media History Narrative, 4–6 pages

The limits of our experience are the limits of our world, but in a technological age where Wii games engage millions and YouTube videos sway voters, that experience might be indirectly broad. This assignment is a multimedia version of a literary history with an emphasis on media; revisit and reexamine your visio-cultural “texts” (i.e. sitcoms, cartoons, movies, music/music videos, even ads) that have influenced or shaped your character. Analyze the ways in which these texts appealed to you (Which tools of language, aesthetic, plot, or image did they use?). Think about how these texts have fostered your understanding of the world as you've come to know it. Did these texts show you much of what your culture would expect, tolerate, or condemn in your behavior? Examining these games, videos, personal sites, or ads, lets us examine, even define, ourselves to some extent. How do you understand the world you have come to know? How has this digital progression fostered or restricted your knowledge of the world? Also, examine how your most influential texts have changed over time and how these changes have influenced your personality and your knowledge of the world.

Here are some possible ways of approaching paper one:
You might create a movie narrative by tracing your favorite movies from the time you were young up until the present: from The Hunchback of Notredame when you were eight, to American Pie when you were in middle school, to Crash during your senior year of high school. You could also create a television narrative tracing your history from the Power Puff Girls, to Dawson’s Creek, to The OC.
You might create a musical history narrative by tracing your grade school infatuation with the Spice Girls through your middle school adoration of Britney Spears up until your current enthusiasm for Alicia Keys.
You might also create a sports history narrative by tracing the films or movies you watched over a period of time (for example, Friday Night Lights) that portrayed a sport you play(ed), one that has been deeply influential to your personal development. What kinds of expectations and behaviors did these visio-cultural texts instill in you? How were your actual experiences similar/different?
Another option includes approaching this assignment as a progression, exploring the most memorable and developmentally important digital media that have influenced you over the years (early emailing or early IMing, first PlayStations, the Sims, editing digital photos, developing web pages with AngelFire in high school). Consider them carefully: why were they important to you? What tools of language, aesthetic, plot, design, or image did they use to appeal? Did these things affect your desires, friendships, or purchases? Why did they work on you at a particular moment? When did they "get old," or if they never did, why? How did you change over time, and how did your early experience as well as changes in the media alter your perceptions? What changes did you notice in the games/sites/interactions?
Another possibility is to consider a particular moment or event in your digital-media history. For instance, I remember the first time I played tennis with my friend's Wii, fumbling with the remote control to hit the ball on the monitor, whereas he had already mastered the skill. I did not have a Wii; I did not want to give up my X-Box.

*These are, of course, just a few suggested approaches; there are many ways of approaching paper one. The only restriction that I will give you is that this paper does need to be analytic in nature. It's fine for you to relate to me your experiences with your cultural media history, but I want you also to be able to interpret and critique the visio-cultural texts that have influenced you to see how they have contributed to the overall development of your character.

 

Press Play, Not Fast Forward - Draft 1

Press Play, Not Fast Forward

Draft 1
My Loud and Proud Sony Walkman
Ipods seem to point and laugh at my Sony Walkman. I mean, with good reason. Ipods hold more music, and they also have the capability of storing things like games or movies. Ipods, to my walkman, are like the big buff guys at the gym, who put the older guy going through a mid life crisis who's trying to keep up, to shame. I mean, they probably don't mean to. They're younger, and they don't understand quite yet how to respect other's emotions. My walkman frowns. He feels like he's not as good as the other music players. He has nothing to offer to the world anymore. His time has come and gone. I mean, all he can do is one simple task, right?

He's been through a lot though, my walkman. Physically, he's experienced many things and he's gone millions of places as well. He's been to foreign countries, the bathroom, in a back pack, on a bike, on a bus, in a bed, places he's not supposed to go (school), on a walk, in a tree, on a trampoline, to the beach, on a plane, on a chair, and in a little maroon colored car. You can only imagine the dives he's taken, only to land right on his face, or how many times he was smacked up against the hard hot concrete. I just so happen to be a major klutz, so use your imagination to think of the other abuse my poor walkman has been through. I think he probably resents me for it a little, but at the same time, he appreciates me for making him even stronger. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I guess.

I don't know if he felt lucky or tortured on his emotional journey. By emotion, of course I'm referring to music. He's been through so much music. And he's grown with me through generations of sounds and melodies. He's gone through songs that make you laugh to the point where you have to cross your legs. He's cried and cried with me when my boyfriend liked another girl instead of me. He's smiled with me at the cute lyrics about falling in love. He's conspired with me about songs of revenge and getting back at people that hurt you. He's raised a quizzical brow at some music. Did that make sense? No, but I like how it sounds. He's told me over and over that everything is going to be alright. My walkman has lived a life full of music with me. Even now, he sings to me on my way to and from home. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Our relationship sounds all great, but a couple years ago, we got into the biggest fight of our lives. You see, he over heard me talking to my mom and dad. “I've had this stupid CD player since 1st grade. Can I please have an ipod?” My walkman was so pissed off at me. He thought I was saying he wasn't good enough. He felt that he worked just fine, and he did. My walkman went from being pissed, to being depressed. He didn't want to play as loud and proudly as usual. Then it dawned on him, that he needed to be as best as he could to impress me, and make me love him again.

You see, all this thought process was going on with out me knowing about it. Meanwhile I was checking out all of my friends' new ipods and their shiny new ipod covers. They were so glamorous to me. They could do anything, or so I thought. My friends could take them anywhere, because they weren't as bulky. They were just all around, a more reasonable choice. But there was a major problem with these new music players, they weren't my walkman.

What was I thinking? How in the world could I abandon my most loyal companion, the walkman that is always there for me? The one that got my through my middle school drama, when I was trying to figure out what kind of a person I wanted to be. What in the world was I thinking? An ipod doesn't sooth you the way that an old walkman does. When an ipod gets full, it get's replaced. Not my walkman. He holds strong and plays exactly what I want, when I want it, and he always has the space for it. My walkman has helped me grow up as an individual. He has helped me drive away from the only home I've ever known, to build me into a future successful person. He pat me on the back and told me that I was doing the right thing by leaving home to come to college for myself. Yes, I'd miss home, but this was the opportunity of a life time. Keep driving forward in your little maroon colored car, and you'll go places. My walkman always did know me well.

Why was I searching for something that I already had? I mean, sure ipods are newer, but don't they both play music? That's like buying a new computer, because it has a totally useless touch screen. Sure it's new, but not better. So ipods can go on pointing and laughing, but my Sony walkman is holding strong, and playing loudly and proudly.

 

Press Play, Not Fast Forward - Draft 2

Press Play, Not Fast Forward
Draft 2
My Loud and Proud Sony Walkman
Ipods seem to point and laugh at my Sony Walkman. I mean, with good reason. Ipods hold days worth of music, and they also have the capability of storing things like games or movies. Ipods intimidate my walkman. If my walkman is an older man going through a mid life crisis who is trying to keep up with the younger guys, then ipods are the buff guys that put him to shame. I mean, they probably don't mean to, but they're younger, and they don't quite understand the concept of respecting others. My walkman frowns. He feels like he's not as good as the other music players, and has nothing to offer to the world anymore. Maybe he's right. I mean, all he does is one simple task, right?

One simple task. When did that become such a problem? I was ecstatic when I got my walkman. He was my present from my Mawmaw for my 7th birthday. He sat patiently wrapped up in green wrapping paper with a white bow on the top, and a card. But no seven year old kid cares about a card right? I tore that present down to the packaging, and admired the present with a gasp. This was the start of a beautiful relationship that others would come to envy.

Since then he's been through a lot though, my walkman. Physically, he's experienced many things, and he's gone millions of places as well. He's been to foreign countries, the bathroom, in a back pack, on a bike, on a bus, in a bed, places he's not supposed to go (school), on a walk, in a tree, on a trampoline, to the beach, on a plane, on a chair, and in a little maroon colored car. You can only imagine the dives he's taken, and the scrapes, scratches, and scores he's had to endure by being smacked up against the hard hot concrete. And to make matters worse, I am a major klutz, so use your imagination to think of the other abuse my poor walkman has been through. I think he probably resents me for it a little, but at the same time, he appreciates me for paying attention to him, not braking him, and making him more resilient. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I guess.

I don't know if he felt lucky or tortured on his emotional journey. By emotion, of course I'm referring to music. He's been through so much music. And he's grown with me through generations of sounds and melodies from Nat King Cole to the Fall of Troy, and everything in between. He's heard things like, “I like big butts and I cannot lie” (Sir Mix-a-lot) that make you laugh to the point where you have to cross your legs. He's sobbed “Remember the years we all spent laughing” (Terminal) with me when my boyfriend liked another girl instead of me. He's smiled with me at the cute lyrics like, “All you need is love” (the Beatles) about falling and being in love. He's conspired with me about songs of revenge, like, “Don't bother angel, I know exactly what goes on” (Taking Back Sunday) to get back at people that hurt me. He's raised a quizzical brow at some music, like “Mmm bop, ba duba dop” (Hanson). “Did what they say make sense? No, but I like how it sounds anyways.” He's told me over and over that “Everything is going to be all right, be strong, believe.” (Yellowcard) My walkman has lived a life full of music with me. Even now, he sings to me on my way to and from home. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

There comes a point in everyone's life that they have a craving for change. So it's no surprise that I felt the need for change, like any other person that's had the same freaking music player since first grade. Little did I know, my walkman was aware of my wanting to replace him. My walkman was so hurt and pissed off at me. He thought to himself, “am I not good enough? I feel like I am, I mean, I still preform the functions I am supposed to, even longer than the average life expectancy. Why would she want to replace me?” He felt that he worked just fine, and he really did. After that, he didn't want to play as loud and proudly as usual. “What's the point?” he thought as he sobbed. The sad thing is, I wasn't crying with him, as he had cried with me.

You see, all this thought process was going on with out me knowing about it. Meanwhile I was checking out all of my friends' new ipods and their shiny new ipod covers. There were many discussions about gigabytes, what music was on their ipods, and how much could be stored on their ipods. They were so glamorous to me. My friends could take them anywhere, because they weren't as bulky, and they didn't need to carry around CD's either. Ipods were just all around, a more sensical choice. They could do anything, or so I thought

Even though these ipods were more convenient, they didn't have the memories, scars, or emotions attached to them. What was I thinking? How in the world could I abandon my most loyal companion, that is always there for me. The one that got my through my middle school drama, when I was trying to figure out what kind of a person I wanted to be. What in the world was I thinking? An ipod doesn't soothe you the way that an old walkman does. When an ipod gets full, it get's erased, and resorted. Not my walkman. He holds strong and plays exactly what I want, when I want it, and he always has the space for it. My walkman has helped me grow up as an individual. I think that he has been the biggest help in the most difficult journey of my life, moving away. As tears fell down my face like waterfalls, he sang the most chipper happy song. He helped me push down the accelerator towards the place that will push me toward a successful future. “Keep driving forward in your little maroon colored car, and you'll go places.” My walkman always did know me well.

Why was I searching for something that I already had? I mean, sure ipods are newer, but don't they both play music? They do, and Ben Folds on an ipod is the same as Ben Folds on a walkman, minus the personal part. On an ipod, you aren't at a certain band's concert, you are at everyone's concert. In my opinion, that makes the one concert less significant. And what's the fun in that? How personal is that? If given the choice, i'd choose the concert that reaches out for you through a set of headphones, that band and that band only. I choose my walkman. So ipods can go on pointing and laughing, but my sony walkman is holding strong, and playing loudly and proudly.

 

Press Play, Not Fast Forward - Draft 3

Press Play, Not Fast Forward
Draft 3

My Loud and Proud Sony Walkman
Ipods seem to point and laugh at my Sony Walkman. I mean, with good reason. Ipods hold days worth of music, and they also have the capability of storing things like games or movies. Ipods intimidate my walkman. If my walkman is an older man going through a mid life crisis who is trying to keep up with the younger guys, then ipods are the buff guys that put him to shame. I mean, they probably don't mean to, but they're younger, and they don't quite understand the concept of respecting elders. They clearly have never helped an old women put groceries in her car. I digress. My walkman frowns an upside down 'U'. He's the type that can appreciate a good thing, but hate a meaningless thing. He keeps thinking this over and over and over about himself. With his eyes overflowing with tears, he feels like he's not as good as the other music players, and has nothing to offer to the world anymore. Maybe he's right. I mean, all he does is one simple task, right?

One simple task. When did that become such a problem? I was ecstatic when I got my walkman! He was my present from my Mawmaw for my seventh birthday. There were a million messy little faces wondering one of two things: what's in the boxes and bags or when the heck are we eating cake? He waited impatiently as I picked up my first present to open – beanie baby. He sat wrapped up in green wrapping paper with a white bow on the top, and a card. But no seven year old kid cares about a card right? I focused on that gift like a lioness hunting her freaking pray. He was my present. Then out of no where I excitedly tore that present down from the pretty bow on the top, down to the packaging, ripping out styrofoam and cardboard of different shapes. Then I got down to the heart on the package. I saw my present, and admired him with a large gasp of surprise, excitement, and pure joy. I immediately spat out a great huge thank you to Mawmaw, did the Spanish kiss on each cheek thing, and then returned to my walkman. He looked back at me with needy dependent eyes. This was the start of a beautiful relationship that others would come to envy.

The two of us were inseparable. We have the same horoscope, favorite song and favorite color. We finish each other's sentences and eat, drink, sleep, and sing together on a daily basis. It was not uncommon to see the two of us in the same meadow as Bambi, running toward each other in slow motion and spinning in circles together, with some majestic song playing in the background. Yeah, we were that close. Okay, maybe not. But I mean, we might as well have been because we were always together.

Since my seventh birthday, he's been through a lot, my walkman. Physically, he's experienced many things, and he's gone millions of places as well. He's been to foreign countries, the bathroom, in a back pack, on a bike, on a bus, in a bed, places he's not supposed to go (school), on a walk, in a tree, on a trampoline, to the beach, on a plane, on a chair, and in a little maroon colored car. You can only imagine how many band-aids he's used because of the dives he's taken, and the scrapes, scratches, and scores he's had to endure by being smacked up against the hard hot concrete. And to make matters worse, I am a major klutz. I drop plates, and spill drinks, I trip on nothingness, I fall going up the stairs, and i've dropped every sheet of paper out of a notebook before, so use your imagination to think of the other abuse my poor walkman has been through. I remember one time I was going up the stairs of my house, jamming out to a Blink-182 song. There was a sweet guitar solo coming up and I went to pull out air guitar, when all the sudden, I couldn't hear the music anymore. I dropped him down fourteen stairs. He landed on his feet with the CD spat out on the floor. I'm good. Don't worry! He said sarcastically, as I rushed down the stairs, examining the CD before him. I think he probably resents me for it a little, but at the same time, he appreciates me for paying attention to him, not braking him, and making him more resilient. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I guess.

I don't know if he felt lucky or tortured on his emotional journey. By emotion, of course I'm referring to music. He's been through so much music. And he's grown with me through generations of sounds and melodies from Nat King Cole to the Fall of Troy, and everything in between. He's heard things like, “I like big butts and I cannot lie” (Sir Mix-a-lot) that make you laugh to the point where you have to cross your legs. He's sobbed “Remember the years we all spent laughing” (Terminal) with me when my boyfriend liked another girl instead of me. He's smiled with me at the cute lyrics like, “All you need is love” (the Beatles) about falling and being in love. He's conspired with me about songs of revenge, like, “Don't bother angel, I know exactly what goes on” (Taking Back Sunday) to get back at people that hurt me. He's raised a quizzical brow at some music, like “Mmm bop, ba duba dop” (Hanson). “Did what they say make sense? No, but I like how it sounds anyways.” He's told me over and over that “Everything is going to be all right, be strong, believe.” (Yellowcard) My walkman has lived a long, happy life full of music with me with the biggest Cheshire Cat smile on his face. Even now, he sings to me on my way to and from home. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

There comes a point in everyone's life that they have a craving for change. Especially women. So it's no surprise that I felt the need for change, like any other girl that's had the same freaking music player since first grade. How cool would that be to get a brand new lime green ipod with a touch pad thingy to switch the songs, and turn up the volume? Let's be clear, this idea of getting an ipod was not an act of conformity, I just thought they were freaking awesome. I really really admired the technology, and I really felt like I deserved something new. I mean, I did take care of my walkman for that long. So I felt responsible enough to have the shiny, tiny, exciting, new ipod. Little did I know, my walkman was aware of my wanting to replace him, which was seriously depressing. My walkman sat like an I-wanna-end-my-life emo kid in a dark corner. He thought to himself, Am I not good enough? I feel like I am, I mean, I still preform the functions I am supposed to, even longer than the average life expectancy. Why would she want to replace me? He felt that he worked just fine, and he really did. After that, he didn't want to play as loud and proudly as usual. What's the point? he thought as he sobbed. The sad thing is, I wasn't crying with him, like he had cried with me.

You see, all this thought process was going on with out me knowing about it. I had no idea he was thinking this way, and I didn't even consider his feelings. I was too busy checking out all of my friends' new ipods and their shiny new ipod covers, to notice how he felt. My friends and I were engaged in deep advanced conversations and discussions about gigabytes, what genres of music was on their ipods, and how much could be stored on their ipods. One of my friends even had an ihome. That's right, it's like a radio that you can put your ipod in, that amplifies the sound, no headphones required. Ooh, and this other friend had this wicked sweet ipod case. Yeah, it was a rubbery pink skin-type-thing that protected the ipod if it was dropped for one reason or another. They were so glamorous to me. My friends could take them anywhere, because they weren't as bulky, and they didn't need to carry around CD's either. So what's not to love right? Ipods were just all around, a more sensical choice. They could do anything, or so I thought.

With big droopy puppy dog eyes my walkman decided to confront me about this anticipated change. How could you betray me like this? What does an ipod have that I don't have? he asked. Yeah, there are more artists that can be played at any given moment, but how is that special? “What do you mean? Ipods have tons of customizable accessories to make them personal.” I said. A little frustrated, he wiped the wet anger from his eyes and he responded, a CD is like being at a concert, where the band is playing to you, and only you. It's not randomized or picked out by a computer. This concert was selected by you, for your enjoyment. I answered with, “okay, I can understand that, but I don't always want to listen to one artist.” Mixed CD's! he shouted, probably louder than he meant to. Mixed CD's are as personal as it gets. Remember when people used to make CD's for people to flatter or woo them? I nodded, remembering. Well, he continued, that's pretty dang personal. And you can't do that with a dumb ipod. Also, who knows that you listened to Blink 182 everyday in 7th grade? Who knows that you listened to Relient K when you were sad, because they always make you smile? Who knows that you like piano music best when it's raining outside? I know you, an ipod will never know you.

Oh my god, he's right. Our friendship is much more intimate than the relationship between me and a tiny music player the size of a couple pieces of gum. Don't get me wrong, gum is great – until it loses it's flavor, and gets spit out in a trash can somewhere insignificant. There's no comparison between something so rich and pure versus artificial and cold. Turning my back on my walkman would be, to me, like turning my back on my family. If I was always striving for the next big thing (ipods), how shallow does that make me? I know that's bold, but think about it. It's almost like saying that something's not good enough for you, because it's too old. He's right, he is special. Everyone had a walkman of their own, that can never be replaced. 's in an ipod? That which we call a music player by any other name would play as sweet. though these ipods were more convenient, they didn't have the memories, scars, or emotions attached to them. was I thinking? How in the world could I abandon my most loyal companion who's always there for me, through thick or thin.Why was I searching for something that I already had? I mean, sure ipods are newer, but don't they both play music? They do. And Ben Folds on an ipod is the same as Ben Folds on a walkman, minus the personal part. An ipod doesn't soothe you the way that an old walkman does. When an ipod gets full, it get's erased, and resorted. Not my walkman. He holds strong and plays exactly what I want, when I want it, and he always has the space for it. On an ipod, you aren't at a certain band's concert, you are at everyone's concert. In my opinion, that makes the one concert less significant. And what's the fun in that? How personal is that? If given the choice, i'd choose the concert that reaches out for you through a set of headphones, that band and that band only. I choose my walkman. So ipods can go on pointing and laughing, but my sony walkman is holding strong, and playing loudly and proudly. He knows, all he can do is one simple task, and that's all right.

 

Press Play, Not Fast Forward - Draft 4

Press Play, Not Fast Forward
Draft 4
My Loud and Proud Sony Walkman

Ipods seem to point and laugh at my Sony Walkman. I mean, with good reason. Ipods hold days worth of music, and they also have the capability of storing things like games or movies. Ipods intimidate my walkman. If my walkman is an older man going through a mid life crisis who is trying to keep up with the younger guys, then ipods are the buff guys that put him to shame. I mean, they probably don't mean to, but they're younger, and they don't quite understand the concept of respecting elders. They clearly have never helped an old women put groceries in her car. I digress. My walkman frowns an upside down 'U'. He's the type that can appreciate a good thing, but hate a meaningless thing. He keeps thinking this over and over and over about himself. With his eyes overflowing with tears, he feels like he's not as good as the other music players, and has nothing to offer to the world anymore. Maybe he's right. I mean, all he does is one simple task, right?

One simple task. When did that become such a problem? I was ecstatic when I got my walkman! He was my present from my Mawmaw for my seventh birthday. There were a million messy little faces wondering one of two things: what's in the boxes and bags or when the heck are we eating cake? He waited impatiently as I picked up my first present to open – beanie baby. He sat wrapped up in green wrapping paper with a white bow on the top, and a card. But no seven year old kid cares about a card right? I focused on that gift like a lioness hunting her freaking pray. He was my present. Then out of no where I excitedly tore that present down from the pretty bow on the top, down to the packaging, ripping out styrofoam and cardboard of different shapes. Then I got down to the heart on the package. I saw my present, and admired him with a large gasp of surprise, excitement, and pure joy. I immediately spat out a great huge thank you to Mawmaw, did the Spanish kiss on each cheek thing, and then returned to my walkman. He looked back at me with needy dependent eyes. This was the start of a beautiful relationship that others would come to envy.

The two of us were inseparable. We have the same horoscope, favorite song and favorite color. We finish each other's sentences and eat, drink, sleep, and sing together on a daily basis. It was not uncommon to see the two of us in the same meadow as Bambi, running toward each other in slow motion and spinning in circles together, with some majestic song playing in the background. Yeah, we were that close. Okay, maybe not. But I mean, we might as well have been because we were always together.

Since my seventh birthday, he's been through a lot, my walkman. Physically, he's experienced many things, and he's gone millions of places as well. He's been to Spain, France, Mexico, the bathroom, in a back pack, on a bike, on a bus, in a bed, places he's not supposed to go (school), on a walk, in a tree, on a trampoline, to the beach, on a plane, on a chair, and in a little maroon colored car. You can only imagine how many band-aids he's used because of the dives he's taken, and the scrapes, scratches, and scores he's had to endure by being smacked up against the hard hot concrete. And to make matters worse, I am a major klutz. I drop plates, and spill drinks, I trip on nothingness, I fall going up the stairs, and i've dropped every sheet of paper out of a notebook before, so use your imagination to think of the other abuse my poor walkman has been through. I remember one time I was going up the stairs of my house, jamming out to a Blink-182 song. There was a sweet guitar solo coming up and I went to pull out air guitar, when all the sudden, I couldn't hear the music anymore. I dropped him down fourteen stairs. He landed on his feet with the CD spat out on the floor. I'm good. Don't worry! He said sarcastically, as I rushed down the stairs, examining the CD before him. I think he probably resents me for it a little, but at the same time, he appreciates me for paying attention to him, not braking him, and making him more resilient. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, I guess.

I don't know if he felt lucky or tortured on his emotional journey. By emotion, of course I'm referring to music. He's been through so much music. And he's grown with me through generations of sounds and melodies from Nat King Cole to the Fall of Troy, and everything in between. He's heard ridiculous things like, “I like big butts and I cannot lie” (Sir Mix-a-lot) that make you laugh to the point where you have to cross your legs. He's sobbed “Remember the years we all spent laughing” (Terminal) with me when my boyfriend liked another girl instead of me. He's smiled with me at the cute lyrics like, “All you need is love” (the Beatles) about falling and being in love. He's conspired with me about songs of revenge, like, “Don't bother angel, I know exactly what goes on” (Taking Back Sunday) to get back at people that hurt me. He's raised a quizzical brow at some music, like “Mmm bop, ba duba dop” (Hanson). Did what they say make sense? No, but I like how it sounds anyways. He's told me over and over that “Everything is going to be all right, be strong, believe.” (Yellowcard) My walkman has lived a long, happy life full of music with me with the biggest Cheshire Cat smile on his face. Even now, he sings to me on my way to and from home. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

There comes a point in everyone's life that they have a craving for change. Especially women. So it's no surprise that I felt the need for change, like any other girl that's had the same freaking music player since first grade. How cool would that be to get a brand new lime green ipod with a touch pad thingy to switch the songs, and turn up the volume? Let's be clear, this idea of getting an ipod was not an act of conformity, I just thought they were freaking awesome. I really really admired the technology, and I really felt like I deserved something new. I mean, I did take care of my walkman for that long. So I felt responsible enough to have the shiny, tiny, exciting, new ipod. Little did I know, my walkman was aware of my wanting to replace him, which was seriously depressing. My walkman sat like an I-wanna-end-my-life emo kid in a dark corner. He thought to himself, Am I not good enough? I feel like I am, I mean, I still preform the functions I am supposed to, even longer than the average life expectancy. Why would she want to replace me? He felt that he worked just fine, and he really did. After that, he didn't want to play as loud and proudly as usual. What's the point? he thought as he sobbed. The sad thing is, I wasn't crying with him, like he had cried with me.

You see, all this thought process was going on with out me knowing about it. I had no idea he was thinking this way, and I didn't even consider his feelings. I was too busy checking out all of my friends' new ipods and their shiny new ipod covers, to notice how he felt. My friends and I were engaged in deep advanced conversations and discussions about gigabytes, what genres of music was on their ipods, and how much could be stored on their ipods. One of my friends even had an ihome. That's right, it's like a radio that you can put your ipod in, that amplifies the sound, no headphones required. Ooh, and this other friend had this wicked sweet ipod case. Yeah, it was a rubbery pink skin-type-thing that protected the ipod if it was dropped for one reason or another. They were so glamorous to me. My friends could take them anywhere, because they weren't as bulky, and they didn't need to carry around CD's either. So what's not to love right? Ipods were just all around, a more sensical choice. They could do anything, or so I thought.

With big droopy puppy dog eyes my walkman decided to confront me about this anticipated change. How could you betray me like this? What does an ipod have that I don't have? he asked. Yeah, there are more artists that can be played at any given moment, but how is that special? “What do you mean? Ipods have tons of customizable accessories to make them personal.” I said. A little frustrated, he wiped the wet anger from his eyes and he responded, a CD is like being at a concert, where the band is playing to you, and only you. It's not randomized or picked out by a computer. This concert was selected by you, for your enjoyment. I answered with, “okay, I can understand that, but I don't always want to listen to one artist.” Mixed CD's! he shouted, probably louder than he meant to. Mixed CD's are as personal as it gets. Remember when people used to make CD's for people to flatter or woo them? I nodded, remembering. Well, he continued, that's pretty dang personal. And you can't do that with a dumb ipod. Ah, ipods are the bane of my existence. I mean, they're flashy, arrogant, and have too many things going on at once. I bet they're all on Adderall... They're no good for you, I would know. Just think about it for a second, who knows that you listened to Blink 182 everyday in 7th grade? Who knows that you listened to Relient K when you were sad, because they always make you smile? Who knows that you like piano music best when it's raining outside? I know you. But an ipod will never know you.

Oh my god, he's right. Our friendship is much more intimate than the relationship between me and a tiny music player the size of a couple pieces of gum. Don't get me wrong, gum is great – until it loses it's flavor, and gets spit out in a trash can somewhere insignificant. There's no comparison between something so rich and pure versus artificial and cold. Turning my back on my walkman would be, to me, like turning my back on my family. If I was always striving for the next big thing (ipods), how shallow does that make me? I know that's bold, but think about it. It's almost like saying that something's not good enough for you, because it's too old. He's right, he is special. Everyone had a walkman of their own, that can never be replaced.

What's in an ipod? That which we call a music player by any other name would play as sweet. though these ipods were more convenient, they didn't have the memories, scars, or emotions attached to them. was I thinking? How in the world could I abandon my most loyal companion who's always there for me, through thick or thin. Why was I searching for something that I already had? I mean, sure ipods are newer, but don't they both play music? They do. And Ben Folds on an ipod is the same as Ben Folds on a walkman, minus the personal part. An ipod doesn't soothe you the way that an old walkman does. When an ipod gets full, it get's erased, and resorted. Not my walkman. He holds strong and plays exactly what I want, when I want it, and he always has the space for it. On an ipod, you aren't at a certain band's concert, you are at everyone's concert. In my opinion, that makes the one concert less significant. And what's the fun in that? How personal is that? If given the choice, i'd choose the concert that reaches out for you through a set of headphones, that band and that band only. I choose my walkman. So ipods can go on pointing and laughing, but my sony walkman is holding strong, and playing loudly and proudly. He knows, all he can do is one simple task, and that's all right.