There. I said it.
It first touched my fingers shortly after we came back from our Davao summer. Seriously, the only reason I decided to finally submit to one was for practicality's sake. And because letting my sister own two iPods would've been ludicrous. Indeed, I thankfully didn't go the full mile of idiocy by owning one of those 80-gigabyte monsters only Robert Christgau and his audiophile ilk could even dream of filling up. My unit is a simple 8-gig black Nano (the 2nd-generation type), and so far I've taken up about 7-and-a-half gigs of it... a considerable fraction of it catering to the wannabe-rock-expert genre.
I can't help but wonder what thoughts the late, great Douglas Adams (given his affinity for both music and Apple products) would've had on such a wildly popular little doohickey. And while I'm all for its portability and stuff, I'm not so crazy for iTunes' aesthetic-defying monopoly of the music business. Don't ask.
My first few months with the thing have been nothing short of convenience-meets-Hell. The first time it near-crashed on me, I blamed it on the presumably-jinxed long name ("Mellomane Vessel") I initially christened it with. A few close calls and accidentally-overwritten-playcount boo-boos later, I started to court the possibility that I just didn't have a knack for hip, new trends. Hopefully, my new name for it ("HyPsteria"... I'll explain one of these days) isn't cursed, too.
Given my newfound attachment to this electronic mixed blessing, I've lost track of how many times I've had to replace the earphones, which seem to ALWAYS fail on me one way or another. I'd estimate around three replacements so far.
