Ipie, my best friend and purple ipod, is dying. I’m afflicted with guilt, and struggling with the five stages of death: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. As I reflect upon Ipie’s life, I wonder why s/he has to leave this earth so soon. There are so many music-filled hours to give.
I first met Ipie in 2008 at the Apple store on 14th Street. In a room full of ipods and electronic gadgets, Ipie stood out. I don’t know if it was Ipie’s purple sheen, compact size, or sleek physique, but s/he caught my eye. I wanted Ipie, and there was a glint in Ipie’s screen that let me know that I was also desired. Owning something is a big commitment, and I wondered if I was ready. Could I give Ipie the care s/he deserved? Could I be responsible with charging, syncing, uploading tunes? After careful consideration, I decided that I would take the plunge; it was time to be an ipod owner.
We had great moments in the sun. Yes, it’s easy to revel in sun, “everybody loves the sunshine,” thus it was the winter that was the true test of our relationship. Walking to the Path train in six-inch snow, with the wind slapping my face, and icicles in my bones, I hit play. Ipie offered encouragement, told me not to “worry about a thing,” “here comes the sun;” told me that I “must go on standing;” made me believe that someone would “show me all the magic that a perfect love can make;” let me see that even when I had no heat, “I got my friends, got my liver, got my tongue.” When I was bored, happy, depressed, poverty-stricken, joyful, manic, ridiculous, Ipie had a corresponding tale to relate in English, German, French, Portuguese; I didn’t always understand what Ipie was pouring in my ears, but I understood Ipie’s sentiment that life is more than “just another manic Monday.”
Denial: Ipie’s fallen twice. Now every time play is pressed, the song on the screen and the one in my ears don’t correspond. Then, Ipie freezes, and blasts the tune. Sometimes Ipie doesn’t do anything at all. This isn’t my fault…and it’s not Ipie’s fault. Who’s to blame?
Anger: Apple’s to blame! These devices should be sturdier, they should be able to withstand drops on concrete, accidental dunks in puddles, banging around in a purse. The anger I feel sounds like DMX’s “Rarararraaaa!”
Bargaining: This period of mourning will go on and on “all night ‘til the break of dawn.” Maybe if I shake Ipie…maybe if I press play harder…..maybe if I recharge Ipie overnight….
Depression: “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, now they look as though there here to stay, oh I believe in yesterday.” When I thought Ipie couldn’t hold anymore versions of “Yesterday,” s/he opened up, “What about Marvin Gaye/En Vogue/Boyz to Men/Ray Charles/Bossa Nova versions?… We can do this all day.” There should be more time: “Time, time, time, what has become of [us]?” I don’t want to walk anywhere without Ipie in my pocket and ears protecting me from passers-by.
Acceptance: All good things end. I must learn to let go, and appreciate all the special moments that Ipie and I shared. There’ll never be another Ipie; if and when I go to the Apple store again, the ipod purchased will be green; Ipie may be replaced in my ears, but never in my heart:
In My Life (The Beatles)
There are places I’ll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some forever not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I’ve loved them all
But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life I love you more