Ode to iPods and sounds of silence

I love the sound of silence, or rather to be more accurate, the sounds of life, of movement, of the moment. Unplugged, I listen to the droning of a lawnmower, the chirps of a swallow and her chick, the tap-tap of shoes on sidewalks as I walk home.

Recently, I purchased a cell phone, a leap for me considering I've shunned the technology for the past two years. So, when I made the decision to leap into the future, I decided to jump ahead of the pack and bought a swanky little toy with camera/video capabilities plus radio options and the ability to store 150 mp3s. I became obsessed with the latter, popping in my tiny earphone buds and listening to the eight uploaded songs over and over and over again. That, and radio too.

I found it (surprise) drained my battery hella quick, but also robbed me of my usual reflective walks.

Then, yesterday, hanging with the boys, one guy said to the group, "Hey, you guys have an iPod charger? Mine died on the way here. I actually had to listen to my thoughts."

One friend responded, "Fuck, you poor asshole." I'm not sure he was joking.

It made me wonder, (here comes the Carrie Bradshaw-esque mid-Sex & the City question): are we a generation of anti-thinkers too busy rushing through life or are we just desperately seeking privacy by tuning out the world?

A day after my friend's comment, I was walking home sans cell phone when the guy in front of me began belting out a tune. I could see the thin black wires trailing from his ears to his pocket.

Every few seconds, he'd sing the chorus, his sweet voice streaming down the street. I smiled, thinking sometimes there's nothing better to have a song you love throbbing in your ears and pumping through your veins. If tuning out translates to that quick rush, that hit of energy and happiness, then dammit hook me up.

But every once in awhile, I need to hear the hum of reality as my brain tosses and turns over the day's events, perhaps, as was the case today, trying to make sense of musical shots of happiness versus real-time reflections on reality.