The Day the Music Died

Last night my ipod died. Big whoop, you might say; buy another one. It's not that simple, it's not just the loss of an ipod, it's the loss of music. Anyone that knows me knows that I love to sing. Ever since my first solo at 2 years old, I've never felt more at home than on a stage singing my heart out. Music means so much to me! I've taken lessons, been in bands, sang in ensembles, had solos, but not this year. I was told when I got here there would be places for me to sing, but this has not been the case. My life has been devoid of music and it's been rough. It's like loosing a part of myself, like I'm not whole. Singing has been such a big part of my life that now, I don't even feel like myself. Now fast forward back to the ipod. You see, the death of my ipod isn't just the loss of an mp3 player, to me it represents the loss of the last bit of music I have in my life. No more listening to Sinatra on the bus, no more Beatles when I go walking, no more Josh Groban while cooking, and no more Selah on Sunday mornings (yes, I have a really broad range of music I like!). I could buy another one if I wasn't afraid my computer was about to die. That's what happens when you are an adult: you have to make tough desicions. Oh well, this is going to be interesting. Well, I'd better go, I'm planning a healing service for the ipod...bring on the annointing oil!