Skip to main content

This little iPod thingy now has all my music

The kid at Office Depot scratched his head.

"Well, yeah, I think we've got one that big," he said. He pointed to the vast area behind him. "Somewhere...somewhere over there."

"You're sure?" I asked. "Because I fought all sorts of traffic to get here and I don't want to go home empty-handed."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," the kid said.

"Pretty sure? or for sure?" I replied.

"Okay, I'm sure." The kid gave me one of those "you'd better buy something or else" looks. I, however, smiled in return. I resisted the urge to asked for directions a second time.

Ten minutes later — which included some serious prices versus quality type of thinking — I purchased the small piece of computer equipment and left.

I'd come to Office Depot on a quest.

It had recently become apparent that I needed to upgrade my home-based Mac and this included a great deal more hard drive space. Now this isn't that big of a problem, because in my 45 years on this earth I have installed many hard drives and wasn't worried about the process.

I was worried, though, about finding a drive large enough.

You see, I was on a quest; like Don Quixote I had charged myself with the task impossible. And despite the urgings from family and friends, alike, I charged ahead.

I was going to digitize all — read that literally — all my music and store it in iTunes and on my iPod.

I know, you're laughing.

Go ahead, because I have more than 3,000 vinyl records and close to a thousand CDs. But no matter, because the directionally challenged youth at Best Buy sold me a 1-Terrabyte hard drive — the digital equivalent of the Library of Congress and King Solomon's mines all rolled into one.

After I arrived home, the set-up was easy. Actually it took more time to unwrap the drive from its plastic-covered tomb than it did to set the whole thing up, plug it in, and turn it on.

Once the little white light came on, I saw a new icon on my Mac — and there, in that tiny little box, I know I had found an empty treasure chest. It was the electronic equal to a blank canvas and I was going to fill it with sound.

I grabbed stacks and stacks of CDs and began loading. Elvis, Buddy Holly, the Cars, Elton, Jimmy Buffett (lots and lots of Jimmy Buffett), Hank Williams, Sr., and even Johnny Cash all found their way to their new home.

As I write this, I'm about half-way finished. Loading the CDs is the easy part; the more difficult adventure — which I'm saving for last — will be converting all those vinyl albums to a digital format.

That will require another new piece of equipment — a newfangled turntable which automatically digitizes the record as it plays it. Which means that I'll have to listen to all 3,000 or so of my albums.

Damn. What a horrible thought.

Spending the weekend playing old records and listening to the music of my youth. But once the project is finished, all that music will be stored, labeled, catalogued and listed by artist, album, genre and even length.

Yeah, I'm liking my little iPod thingy. No matter what the kid at Home Depot says.

Comments

Br. Jack+, LC said…
Holy crap! I didn't know they made an iPod that large. Also, you might have to do a little editing for some of the music (something I'm sure you're not worried about) to make sure all of the data is listed. FWIW, I have all of my music on my iPod and I am running Ubuntu Linux. I even have all of the artwork. It takes some doing when it's a large collection, but, after it's done, it's really very nice.

Keep my posted, brother, on how this works out.

Jack

Popular posts from this blog

Ex-pastor suing Moore's First Baptist Church

MOORE — A former official with Moore’s First Baptist Church is suing the church for his termination, and for “spreading false rumors about his mental health throughout the community,” court documents show. Jimmie D. Lady, the church’s associate pastor, filed the suit in Cleveland County District Court last week seeking $10,000 in actual damages and $10,000 in punitive damages for “severe emotional distress and mental anguish as a result of statements made about him when his job was terminated.” Lady’s attorney, Andrew Hicks of Houston, claimed church officials terminated Lady for being bi-polar, then spread rumors about Lady in the community. “Although a man of God, Dr. Lady cannot ignore the dramatic, adverse effects these untrue and unfair accusations have had on him and his family,” Hicks said. “First Baptist Moore’s efforts to tarnish Dr. Lady’s reputation have threatened his family’s livelihood. Through this suit, we hope to restore Dr. Lady’s good name.” Church officials denied

If I were a chef...

If I were a chef, I’d spend early Wednesday mornings at the Farmers Market. I’d get there around 7 a.m., when the produce was wet and fresh and the day was young and the people were still drinking their coffee. If I were a chef, I’d wait patiently while the wrinkled granny lady individually fondled all 631 tomatoes on the table in front of her. I’d quietly tap my foot as she sniffed and touched each of the red, buxom vegetables before she finally selected two, and paid for them. I’d do that, if I were a chef. If I were a chef, I buy peaches — boxes and boxes of peaches. I’d buy them from the old, snaggle-toothed man with the radiant smile whose booth sits to the right of the entrance to the fairgrounds building. I’d buy his peaches because I know the old man understands fruit and earth and trees, better than anyone else there. I’d smile as his wrinkled, gnarly hand gently placed peach after peach in my basket. And I’d give him a sly wink after he handed me a bruised, but succulent pea

Learning the ropes

Kyle is a friend of mine. He's young, and he's a fellow writing student. Kyle is quiet, kind and very, very smart. When he's not writing for class, he's writing for the student newspaper. And not too long ago, Kyle got his first scar as a journalist. He decided he was going to write a piece about a 'colorful' fast food place on the northeast side of Oklahoma City. Kyle loaded up with a few friends — remember, he's in college and any roadtrip -- even a short one -- is still a roadtrip – and headed north, up the Interstate. Kyle visited the place, came back and wrote his story. And up to that point, everything was fine. Then the story ran in the newspaper. And everyone from the editor on down jumped up and down on Kyle with exceedingly great jumps. People turned out in droves to denounce Kyle. They wrote letters. His colleagues pissed and moaned. And my friend Kyle was ready to give up. He didn't. Kyle and I and Mel, our professor, had a long, intense disc