How do you mend a broken iPod?

A few days ago, I was singing along to Cheryl Lynn's "Got to be Real" on my iPod while dancing and washing some dishes, when a disturbing thought (more disturbing than the image you have in your head of me doing all this) hit me:

What if all of this is just...temporary?

And by "all of this" I was not talking about the world, steady food and water supplies, nuclear war stability, or Tom and Katy's marriage. No, it was none of that.

I was talking about the completely one-with-myself feeling I get from listening to my iPod. I mean, there, in my kitchen, sponge in hand, dish in the other, microphone in the other, "To be real, It's got to be reeeeaaaaallllll!!!" escaping my lips, I could not have been more at peace with the world.

Well it seems I spoke too soon, because later that day, as I walked down Commonwealth Avenue, my iPod flew out of my sweatshirt pocket, onto the sidewalk, and finally began the journey to leave the physical world behind, and to meet his maker: Steve Jobs.

As I attempted to turn it back on to resuscitate it, I was brought to my knees to see the following image on the screen:






























I think there's a lot that can be said about my generation's reliance on technology for bits of happiness, and how we look to immaterial objects like iPods to fill something within us that we think is missing. Or how we use them to fill a void that's been there since childhood, or how they keep a constant soundtrack going on in our heads, which speaks to our subconscious fears of silence and things like that. I, however, am not going to speak to these theories, since I don't believe a WORD of them.

I proceeded to cry for about 19 hours, over the happiness I will no longer be able to feel, ever. And I started to feel like a piece of me was missing, some kind of void, maybe from childhood. And then the silence kicked in. OH GOD! The deafening silence! It's terrifying.

My iPod was truly a world traveler. Together, we traveled across Ireland, the UK, Spain and France, all around the United States, and countless treks between Boston and New York. Of course, how could I forget these fond memories as well:

Mt. Rushmore,















The Leaning Tower of Pisa,




















The Great Pyramids,














and the Lion King.












I brought my iPod to the Apple store to see if there was anything they could do for me, and was told that the internal bleeding was so bad from the impact of hitting the cement head-on, they were shocked it was giving any response at all. Its pulse so weak, its breath so faint, its warranty long expired, it was time to pull the plug.

All I could think about was how lucky I was that this didn't happen a week earlier. Or else I would have had to travel to and from the West Coast with nothing more than a BOOK! What did people do on planes before these things?? And in June, when Beth and I go Israel, what if it broke right before then? I wouldn't know what to do with myself for that long. I might actually have to be aware of my surroundings for once. Devil be thy name!

While I wait for my replacement-best-friend to arrive in the mail, I have been shamefully hauling around my roommate's old discman. When I carry this around, I feel like I'm being punished by god for unintentionally judging people who use outdated things. You know, like big Nokia cell phones, and film cameras, or huge belt buckles. What goes around comes around, I guess.

There's a lesson for you, kids. Never judge someone for using old technology. Or else you'll find yourself listening to cassette tapes while you wait for your one-hour disposable photos to be done at Wal-Mart.


We had a good run, iPod. RIP.


-ev

Spring Break: Weaves Gone Wild!

Do you ever wish you could take a vacation after a vacation?

I spent my wonderful Spring Break in San Francisco, and I am absolutely exhausted. But in a good way. In that extremely accomplished, happy, thrilling way.














I arrived on the west coast last Wednesday, ready to embark on a 6 day exploration of myself, a new city, old friends, new friends, a search for the Full House house, and the inner workings of brunch culture. Today I'd like to share my findings with you.

One of my favorite things to do in a new city is to set off on my own, by foot, and figure out the lay of the land. In San Francisco, I spent a whole day doing this. I felt like I saw it all. But by late afternoon, I found myself wandering down near Fishermans Wharf.

As I walked along the crowded sidewalk, I noticed a sudden, strange clearing of people, and I started to feel like I was being watched. All of a sudden, a man dressed as a giant shrub came out of nowhere and tried to scare me!














People all around me and the bush man, even people across the street started to laugh at me, like I was the butt of some big joke.

So I killed him.

I later found out that the Larry Bushman was a staple of San Francisco culture, and had been scaring people with his light-hearted bush prank for decades. So... my bad, San Francisco. I'll try and make it up to you.

Anyhoo.

On Thursday, we rented a car and left the hills behind for the sprawling vineyards of Sonoma County: Wine Country.




























I must admit, if life was always this easy, I probably would be too.

A day of wine tasting can be an extremely expensive and dangerous thing. I think they should build some sort of Disney World tram that stops at all the vineyards so people don't have to drive to them after they've had a few glasses. But alas, we did.














Watch out for those trees. They come out of nowhere. The best part of the drive home was conquering Lombard Street.... you know, the twisty one.



















Day in Sonoma + Evan Driving + Lombard Street = Hilarious consequences.

(Don't drink and drive, kids)

After our little adventure on the slopes, we took to the streets some more. Along the way, we found some type of dead animal which I was later informed was some tranny's weave...















The bar the tranny probably came from, prior to losing her weave...















And the most un-fun place. Ever.

















I guess no review of San Francisco would be complete without a short description of the weather. It was pretty much perfect the whole time I was there. 70 and sunny. Since I have come back to Boston, people see my face and think I went somewhere tropical. I tell them I was in San Francisco and they scoff and say something about how I couldn't possibly have gotten so much color there. Well thanks, asshole, but I'm sure my peeling face would beg to differ.














The fog found its way into my vacation as well, of course on the day we walked across the bridge. Ain't the clashing of high and low pressure clouds to form masses of tiny water droplets a bitch?



























I was kind of sad to see that, placed along the sidewalk on the bridge, were phone stations designed to stop people from jumping off the bridge.















"There is hope. Make the call. The consequences of jumping from this bridge are fatal and tragic."

Jesus! Take those signs down, stop giving people ideas. I would have never even thought about jumping if I'd never seen those signs.

Bridges are for crossing. Who stops right in the middle?

I quickly contemplated the fatal and tragic effects of jumping and realized I was too scared to even look over the railing. Life is just too precious. (But to clarify, I'm pro-choice)

By far, the best part of this Spring Break was being able to reconnect with my old friend Rachel. She just turned 93. She and I grew up in the OB together, but she moved away half way through high school, and I hadn't seen her in about 4 or 5 years.

Well she and her roommate Steve took me in for the week and I am forever indebted. We made quite the fun trio. We went out for granola and eggs every morning, during which we would catch up on the last 5 years of our lives. It was incredibly mellow-dramatic, trust me.















The whole idea of just picking up and starting in a new city after college is amazingly exciting. And they just have so much fun, I'm totally jealous, especially because I have terrible senior-itis, and I don't have the motivation to do anything anymore. So while I'm also having fun, I feel guilty about it in the morning (There's a first time for everything right?).

I'm also glad I finally have a second point of reference in California. I've been to LA plenty of times to know that... let's just say it's not for me. But I felt extremely comfortable in San Francisco. Who knows, maybe a few years down the line I'll make a move. But that's literally light years from even considering.

So until then...















I'll be in wine country... with my weave.


Peace out, winos.