Even before I got around to buying myself an iPod, the pundits are writing its obituary. Only in the world of technology can a Rip Van Winkle emerge from a decade long slumber can fit right in. All you miss is a couple of over-rated hype cycles that have all but fizzled out by then. You just latch on the newest fad wave that comes along and all of a sudden the last ten years that you were absent does not count for so much - you are just as up to speed as everyone else who was around the whole time. Something seems wrong about that picture. When history becomes discrete packages that can stand alone without needing a the broader canvas of events and ideas that helped form them, it does not feel real. Large chunks of time can be purged out of the records without impacting much.
I never fail to remind J that there is a time and place for everything. It is possibly the line she will remember me by when I am dead and gone given how frequently she hears it. Instead of having her breakfast she will break into a song and dance number from High School Musical well past eight on Monday morning. She will insist that I watch and applaud the performance instead of screaming at her to finish her milk and cereal. Her sense of occasion is seriously lacking but then so is mine. Consider for example, a person walks into the grocery store with the express purpose of buying detergent because they are fresh out of it and laundry is only half way done. However instead of heading straight for detergent, they wander over to the natural foods aisle and go berserk upon finding goat milk on sale for a dollar a gallon. They at once proceed to stock pile so they can turn it to huge quantities home-made feta cheese. That person would be me. It would not concern me in the least that I ha...
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