Musical Journal (circa 2009)

A few days ago, I got my old MP3 player back.  I had let a friend borrow it years ago (using my DS and eventually my iPod to play music in the meantime), but all the same, I got it back recently.  It's a little blue 512mb Sandisk Sansa m230 that a friend gave me back in Virginia, eventually becoming my go-to music player for my odyssey to the west coast.  Because of it's small space, it could hold around 150 songs, enough for a day's drive.  While it's convenient to have all of one's music on a larger device, having a selected mix of favorites can make for a more pleasant trip (and less skipping).  So I bought a AAA battery for the Sansa and the player came to life with the familiar SanDisk logo flashing in the tiny screen.  To my surprise, the music library I'd left on there when I let my friend borrow it was still intact (she mainly used it for the built-in FM Radio during her gym time).

 

 

"Little Blue"

I've been thinking about actually using the MP3 player again, just something to carry around for when I go running or on car trips.  However, I don't have it in me to clear the current playlist.  I look at it like my time capsule or a school yearbook.  Also, I already have three other perfectly capable portable music players (my DSi and 3DS for "selected" tracks (1GB each, twice that of the Sansa) and my 8GB iPod Touch for a larger library), so the environmentalist in me (while screaming that I have too much stuff to begin with) is saying I don't "need" another device and would probably do well to donate the little blue.  It also doesn't help that the Sansa is having connectivity issues with Ubuntu.  I know I could just make a copy of the playlist and use that.  The whole thing makes me wonder about attachment to things and memories.

As I browsed the songs, memories and feelings came flooding back to me.  Seeing Eddie Vedder on the player brought me back to Mt. Rainier, driving amongst the tall trees of Gifford Pinchot National Forest as carefree and young as I could with "Big Hard Sun" playing on my car speakers.  "I Don't Feel At Home In This World" by the Gospel Keys reminded me of the excitement of the wannabe gypsy life, traveling and having little but making the most of things (admittedly contrasting the song's actual meaning of spiritual pilgrimage on earth).  Modest Mouse WAS the music of the Pacific Northwest, with "Dashboard" bringing a Walla Walla, WA fish and chips flavor to my mind's tastebuds (sad to learn that the little fish restaurant closed down).  This little Sansa was essentially my journal, my thoughts and feelings from my 2009 self reflected musically, each song a memory, feeling, or issue I pondered ("Strawberry Fields Forever" queried life direction and "Wicked Game" was about relationships).  Whether or not I keep the Sansa, it was great to go through and reminisce what was essentially one of the greatest summers ever.