when i'm walking around with my ipod, i imagine i'm in a movie with my life's soundtrack playing in the background.

"don't lie."

you do too.

in "a moment like this," the urgency of my ipod dying would not be nearly as severe if apple hadn't released the iphone this week. or if i stood by the steadfast family mantra -- to not, under any circumstance, exercise regularly. or if i actually held one single music file on my own computer.

but alas, the recent iphone release means waiting just to walk inside an apple store. and i went against the family when i decided i would get in shape this summer ... meaning i need blondie and U2 to "get down and break a sweat."

and, well, simba-the-ipod hasn't been updated since right before my divorce because my ipod's homebase was my ex's computer.

mouth to mouth might not save my ipod; i, however, remain open to the prospect of oral resuscitation.

as this past week, the "4th of july," would have been our four-year anniversary (an unnamed friend remarks: common little matey -- maybe it's time to move on?), i'm searching hard to find something witty to say. but just like my ipod, the mechanism responsible for projecting something worth listening to and audible at the same time seems to be broken.

and so as i try to figure out how to save simba-the-ipod's music while struggling to figure out who i am as a single twenty-something, maybe losing access to my ex's music is another step in the process of learning to stand on my own feet.

and i guess in all fairness, i did get the kids cats.