I'm in the market for an iPod. I'm a sucker for whatever Apple wants to sell me, particularly if I can get a fruity-flavored skin to keep it in. Whether or not I'll be able to figure it out is anybody's guess, but I see this as the fork in the middle of my late 30something road. If I don't go forth and embrace iPod, I will become instantly old...one of those people who refuses to use the LCD display on the digital camera in lieu of the eentsy viewfinder or who doesn't trust electronic paycheck deposits. I'm not ready to become that person, so this weekend I'm going to take the plunge. Or at least dip my big toe into iPod waters.
But I'm approaching it the way my mother would, which is a cause for some alarm. I scour the descriptions on the Apple website, trying to figure out how they are trying to "trick" me into an inferior model or into buying add-ons I don't need. I sent an iPod savvy friend approximately 23 emails today, in essence, begging him to make the choice for me between the teensy hip Nano and the more powerful (and impressive) regular iPod.He graciously responded in Yoda-like phrases though ultimately refused to make the choice for me. (No chance of blaming him later if the iPod seems too cumbersome compared to the Nano.) Now I must decide do I want 30 gig or 60? Black or white? My name engraved on the back by what I assume is a licensed Apple engraver? Decisions, decisions.
Today when I wasn't obsessing about my choices, I listened to Louise Hay's CD on creating prosperity in your life. When I'm not in a cynical mood, her mind-over-matter belief system seems not completely unsound. We are, probably, what we think, and so better not to think that other people have everything and you have nothing. She has this soothing, wise, voice, so I had no reason not to buy into what she was selling me this morning.
Louise may be on to something. When I got to work, there were exam copies of textbooks I didn't order. I had my annual review and was recommended for highest merit (which, if approved, will result in a slightly larger (small) annual raise). Back in my office, the textbook buy-back guy who usually shows up once a year, stopped by on a whim to see if I had anything to sell him--and remarkably, I did: the three new books, one of which I had rejected simply because of the word "roadmap" in the title. Nothing like being $21 richer for doing absolutely no work. Tonight, the guy whose novel I'm editing called to talk about the work I've done. He likes the feedback I've given him and asked me to edit another manuscript. Also, he and his wife have invited me to stay with them in Aspen when I go this summer for a writing workshop, which will save me about $1,000 in hotel bills.
Tomorrow I'm going to listen to Louise Hay's tape on "Breaking Down Barriers to Get What You Want." By the end of the day I should have a marriage proposal, a Capricon fetus in my womb, a winning Powerball ticket, and a three-book deal with Penguin.
If I win the lottery, I'll buy you a copy of this CD so you can win too. At which point we'll buy tiaras and eat caviar on my private island off the southwestern coast of Ireland. (Possibly instead of caviar, I'll go for the brown bread and Kerry Gold Butter with a Guinness chaser.) We'll talk, have a good time, and when we get sick of each other, we'll listen to our iPods. We'll have different models for every day of the week. Because, seriously, isn't the whole point of prosperity having the means to buy an excessive amount of stupid things (in fruity flavors)?