I am victorious.

iTunes 7, I was excited for you. Pumped, you may even say. I was overjoyed to download you, and loved your clean lines and spiffy content. I even defended you when others encountered problems. Problems which, I had not been aware, were quietly thwarting my own precious library.

You analyzed playback information. On a regular basis, at regular intervals, you crawled across my library, arbitrarily choosing 60 of my songs to undermine. Then, they ceased to play.

I was unoffended, assuming it was a small bug, until you attacked my Panic! at the Disco and Norah Jones. Then, I was incensed, suddenly spurred to find a drastic solution. With one eye on my Ouran soundtrack, another hovering over my external hard drive, I discovered this miracle tip:

http://macslash.org/comments.pl?sid=6335&op=&threshold=

0&commentsort=0&mode=thread&pid=112819 (split up so it would stop running off the page)

and proceeded to follow directions (improvising where…I decided to, basically) until, triumphant and indeed victorious, I emerged from the smoke with iTunes 6.0.5 (and consequently the green music note icon, which I’d always preferred anyway) and restored from my hard drive my library. My entire library. Including “But It’s Better When We Do” and “Those Sweet Words.”

The lesson learned? You cannot stop me. You cannot stop “mamer-retrogamer.” You cannot stop music.

If music be the food of love, play on; give me excess of it.

No truer words, Orsino. No truer words.

In all my glory,

Mata ashita.

iFollow

I know, the iPod is so much hype and consumerism. I’m practically sinning against my own objectives by owning one. But I re-realized it today. I love that thing.

I love that thing so.

iPod owners, admit it. Mp3′s got nothing on this handy little device (and mine’s a nano, so it’s handy and really little). You can sort playlists, search for composer (like people actually categorize their music by composer–if you do, let me know, maybe with a little explanation? I couldn’t do it), and have pretty album art.

Just throwing that out there.
Well, that and…

Philosophy! (Just throwing this out there too)

I’m in a class called “Theories of Human Nature.” That should explain plenty, but allow me to elaborate.

We study and discuss intensely philosophers’…philosophies. Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Aquinas, Descartes, Hume, Kant. Discussions are lead by our teacher, commonly known as God. (at least around here.)

I am that student the teacher is always wondering if she’s paying attention, scribbling furiously in my notebook in self-confusion. Granted, I often am scribbling, but usually if I’m that kind of spaced out I’m concentrating on something they (oh yes. they.) were talking about twenty minutes ago. This is one of those scribbling bouts, one I had earlier in class today.

scribble, scribble, scrabble.

Can you exist without purpose?

Self-teaching–but you don’t test yourself–well, you do—BUT—NO—crazy-going.

But I know I need friends. I know I need to have other people around. I want to prove I’m smart. I am done being underestimated.

I am completely hung up between wanting to be my own–prove everyone wrong–be verified by others–I’m stuck between

codependence and self-reliance

…and there’s nothing I can think of to help me choose between the two.

How do I decide whether or not I consider others’ opinions valid (and thus them-for most people consider themselves defined through and through by their opinions-how you define yourself is how you see things differently *something brought up earlier*) or to shun them and their cruel and undermining thoughts? (I’d miss the compliments and have to be self-assuring.)

I. Don’t. Know.

end of scribbling

I don’t know. I haven’t got a clue. And by the time I was with it enough to realize other people were talking at all, they were talking about communism. Oh, such wonderful idealism that is. But that’s philosophy for you.

There’s so much I’d like to write. I promise (or apologize apowogize for *thank you www.robandelliot.com*) more later.

 

Mata ashita!