Eternal Sunshine Of The Scratched iPod

For technical reasons beyond my understanding, I had to restore my ipod today. I feel utterly evil.

We become attached to our ipods. I must have viewed mine as a tiny rodent-type electronic creature, because as I heard its little brain ticking over as I wiped its shiny little memory, I felt like a complete bastard. This is like euthanasia for the 21st century, or some deep shit like that.

So I wiped the memory, and re-synced it with an almost identical itunes library. I imagine what I've just done is on a par with Jim Carey and Kate Winslet in Eternal Sunshine. Re-pieced together, but not quite the same, and never entirely sure why. Right now, for all I know, my ipod could be having dreams of when it was a little fresh-faced, top of the range ipod video. Now, with its cracked screen and scratched mirrored casing, it could be reminiscing over its short but brutal life: tucked in bras, nestled in coat pockets, stood on a kitchen counter, blasting The Beatles as I swear over meringue that won't stiffen... Good times. Crazy days.

Hopefully my ipod will forgive me for the horrid trickery I have played upon it. I do feel awful about it, but it was for its own good, really.