Not anti-Ipod; Anti-Isolationism

I got my first ipod for Christmas--a "shuffle" to be exact. I didn't ask for it, but I guess my dad thought I needed one so I could fit in; maybe as inspiration to start working out. I'm not sure, but it was nice of him. It has a matte silver finish, and it's only little bigger than a postage stamp—a far cry from the robust CD player that introduced me to the likes of the Beatles and the Spice Girls.

The problem is it's still in the box. I can't quite bring myself to use what I consider to be the end of interpersonal communication as we know it. For all intents and purposes, we'll call it the Conversation Impairment Device (CID). Everywhere I go I am confronted by people with tiny speakers in their ears, white wires slithering around their necks down to their pocket or inconspicuously into their large puffy coats (at the high school), where they are harboring this conversation killer and teacher annoyance. The bus is scene of the most frequent sightings of the CID. I guess they could be classified as one step above cell phones because at least you don't have to hear the girl next to you yapping about the pimple in the middle of her forehead that just won't go away. Then again, at least the cell phoners can hear me say "excuse me" as I squeeze through the sea of people crammed on the bus to get off at my stop. CID-users simply stand there like a heiffer in the middle of the road, despite the blaring sound of the car horn.
"Excuse me, can you please mooove?" "What? I see your mouth moving, but I can't hear you."
I find it especially embarrassing when I try to make small talk with the person sitting next to me on the bus, only to find my words rejected by the piece of plastic clogging her ear. I just never seem to remember that now bus etiquette requires me to check for tunes before opening my trap.

I think the real reason some people have this auditory-fixation is because they want to feel like they're the star of a movie. They download songs onto their ipod as their "soundtrack of life;" a unique expression of who they really are. Just imagine watching some poor soul chasing after the bus to the tune of Jojo's "It's just too little too late;" listening to the Verve’s “Bittersweet Symphony” on the days when you’re feeling cynical; or Vitamin C’s “Friend’s forever” buzzing in your ear as you walk across the stage, diploma in hand. Life just seems so much more glamorous when it’s put to music so go on and live out your favorite scene. Maybe some day I'll have the guts to download some itunes on my ipod and go for a jog. But until then, if you see me on the ibus trying to talk to the CID user next to me, remind me that extras don't have lines.