Tonight is a coaster-throwing kind of night.
You know: where you’re so angry and frustrated with one particular thing that you’d really like to hurl it at the wall except that it would completely destroy that thing and you really did pay a lot of money for it, not to mention the hole in the wall that it would probably create that would spend everyday hence staring at you and reminding you that you have anger issues so instead you spend the next hour flinging stolen bar coasters at anything that moves. Which totally explains the coaster my husband just found in the kitchen.
Tonight the straws on my proverbial camel’s back were put there by technology. Primarily, my laptop and my music collection. You see, I got my iPod Touch in the mail today, which was purchased to replace my iPod Nano. Which did not survive the wash and dry cycle that it was put through. Which explains why Kyle slept outside for 2 nights. Let me tell you, there is not a more terrible feeling than opening the dryer and watching your iPod come tumbling out.
I decided to get the Touch most for all the organizational features on it. I was so psyched to be able to keep by music, videos, pictures, calender, to do list, e-mail, and appointments all on one handy little device. Coming from the girl who lost everything not nailed to her for a period of years, this was an exhilarating prospect. I was going to be able to find anything I needed, be it a song or an e-mail, with the stroke of a finger. Awesome.
So I pull my iPod out of it’s pretty white box, and I plug it in, and I get ready to put all my music on it. Problem is, before I can slide my music into the neat, organized little folders on my iPod, I have to put it into neat, organized little folders in iTunes. Bu t before I can do that, I have to put it into neat, organized little folders on my hard drive. And in order to do that, I have to collect it all from the piles and folders within folders that have collected on two computers and an external hard drive and put it into neat, organized little folders so that I can then sync it with the 9 COMPUTERS that exist in this 1,100 sq ft apartment. And after that I have to organize my e-mail contacts, enter all my phone numbers, create folders for and organize all my e-mails, fill in all missing artist and album information for my music, find missing album artwork, enter all my appointments, organize and label all my pictures (including the pre-iPod collection and organization,) and convert all my video into an appropriate format. And in the meantime, iTunes doesn’t want to install, my internet connection wants to go down, and my computer wants me to re-do all the work I just did organizing my music because it can remember where I put it.
But what I think angers me the most is the fact that this technology comes in the guise of saving me time and making my life less stressful, when actually it’s turned into a black hole for my time. So far, I have spent almost 7 hours dinking with this thing, and all I’ve managed to do is organize 1/6 of my music. It came out of the box all, “Look at me, all sleek and shiny, let me make your life easier and organize for you,” when actually it’s done the opposite and kept me from doing all the productive things that I should be doing right now that have fallen to the wayside because I’m playing with my iPod instead. Honestly, if I were to trade this sophisticated piece of machinery for a Walkman, a calender, and a photo album my life would be a hell of a lot less complicated right now; a lot more cumbersome, perhaps, but certainly easier. Instead, all this gadget has done so far is forced me to do what I should have done in the first place and just get fucking organized! How dare it trick me into be responsible! This is 2009; shouldn’t it be taking care of all that responsibility for me? Surely there’s an app for that.
So thank you, Steve Jobs. Thank you for allowing me the privellage of paying $200 to organize my own life. Fortunately for you, the idea of being able to carry my world on a tiny device that will then destroy my life when I loose it is one that my generation can’t refuse. And I feel safe with the knowledge that you’ll be there to let me shell out more hard earned money to experience the anger and the glory all over again the next time my husband runs it through the dryer.