A few years ago, “make it happen” was my primary mantra. If something wasn’t going on in my life and I wanted to 180° that bastard, the onus was on me to ensure its inevitability. It helped. I found the push I so sorely needed and advanced myself in a myriad of ways; career, fitness, love and self-confidence. I’d love to bring the mantra back and continue to soar, but lately it’s been harder to stoke that fire inside of me when coal is running scarce. Every now and again though, I find myself achieving things I never thought possible. Even now I’m breaking records cracked only in dreams.
Two months. A mere two months. Incredible. Despite my best efforts, two months seems beyond compare.
The last two times it took at least 6 months, but here I am cutting that time by ⅔. Reaching for the stars just like S-Club taught you, Leon.
I guess it’s kind of my fault. Well, not that the headphones are dead. There’s been zero misuse, I haven’t been rough-housing with them. I’ve yet to stomp or bodyslam a pair of cans or try to crush them as I would a ripe melon (for slushies. Because blenders are noisy). Yet they keep passing away on me. Why do they come to me to die? Why do they come to me to die?
They’re not entirely dead, but the left earphone (always the left. Every single time) rattles like a hypothermiac skeleton. Whenever bass of any variety (even voices in a podcast) rumbles through, that rumble jangles with unpleasant vibrations. It’s killing my previously blissful commutes.
I’m the problem here though. In reality Koss has a great lifetime warranty involving a $10 shipping/return policy to get them fixed. Last time Canada Post tried to term my package as a money order and charge me $50 (the cost of the headphones). I’m gonna try a different tack next time. Now that I’ve got 2 dead pairs I can at least combine shipping and save.
The end result of this kerfuffly clusterfuck is that I no longer listen to music as I travel. I’m not a remotely angry person, but the one thing that ruffles my feathers is any kind of aural artefact interfering when I’m trying to lose myself in a soundtrack. Hearing that rattle almost causes me to go postal and it’s not worth the frustration.
Consequently something curious has happened. I feel like I’ve unplugged from The Matrix. Looking around, everyone’s absorbed in some kind of digital device. We’ve undesirably thrust ourselves into close contact with total strangers and our response is to build up as many walls as we can to shut them out. By using these devices to connect to people worldwide we’ve closed ourselves off from the humanity right in front of our faces. Since I’ve unwillingly opted out, I’ve noticed the world spinning around me. I’ve seen and heard people crying. With one of them I accidentally made eye contact and successfully transferred a knowing, supportive smile. I’ve conversed with a range of people: A Russian native impressed by the consideration of Canadian commuters compared with more boorish New Yorkers. I discussed upcoming music festivals with a trio of girls. I met a lady and her Bernese Mountain Dog I exchanged a few words and a lot of pats. I’ve joked with strangers, talked about upcoming events and shared random observations about the absurdity of social customs. In unplugging I’ve become more connected to my fellow humans than I was before.
Then again, none of them sling words as well as Mark Kozelek, so I might need to get those headphones fixed Porta Pro-nto.