After You've Gone

It's obvious that we are addicted to our machines. At least, I am addicted to my machines. I sat here in front of my, staring blankly, as a thought entered into my head. I paused in the middle of my typing, my belly full and aching from the lunch I had over-consumed, and I stared like I was on some sort of chemical daze. My eyes glossed over and so many thoughts poured into my mind in a matter of miliseconds. I was vacant and technology had consumed me. My mppalyer, turned up just slightly, began to play "After You've Gone" by Sophie Tucker and reality came crushing back to me in a weird way. I pondered this small little idea...my machines have so much of a lifeform of their own. When Sophie Tucker recorded that song life was simpler. And here I am surfing the internet trying to plan out a trip to South America or Japan. I utilize my computer to show me things that I would never have the opportunity to see. I toggle through Windows as I do my work and dream of places to go. I answer my phone that can reach out and touch anyone in the world...and it has multiple lines. I fumble with my cell phone text messaging people left and right and I keep other conversations alive with my Yahoo web-browser. As if that all weren't enough, my cd player hums softly with a cd and my mp3 player echos a sound from days since long gone. I am immediately reminded that the things that I need these days aren't always the things that I needed back in the day. Who would have thought that my music would ever come from a little box, no bigger than a remote control. My music was "my music" and I could store as much of it on a tiny little chip as I wanted. The song switched over to "Aint No Sunshine" by Bill Withers and I am reminded of an old lover whose image burns in my brain. A new begining is what I am looking forward to.