I have been locked in battle with myself of late about my wish to buy an iPod. Not just any old MP3 / music player mind you, it has to be an iPod. Months ago I thought that I might like one. I would walk out of stores convincing myself that such a frivolous purchase would add nothing to my happiness. Indeed, buying one would prove to me and world – as if you care – that I have become the consumer equivalent of the paedophile. Reviled by everyone for their shameless self-centredness and inability to detach my own desires from an object unashamedly declaring Designed in California, Made in China. In short, I would become like all those others who swan about with white ear buds. The folly.
Last week, on the couch of course, I finally decided that I will buy one. I deserve it, I told myself, why would anyone really care whether I have one or not. The question of deserving it finally having been answered by the sense that I am worth it. In the same way as I had no problem handing over E90 for my last pair of pants because I got satisfaction from them, I would make this purchase in the same way. Then I texted my brother: “when you bought your iPod at Christmas, did you ever think about the money you spent on it again?” His response was straightforward: buy it if you can afford it. No one else cares if you beat yourself up over this object, why should you? Guilt is a terrible thing, don’t let it eat you up.
I walked into the O2 store on Grafton Street yesterday. I ogled at the display of iPods there like a five year old in a sweet shop – the ones we never really had here in Ireland – and in the time that it takes to decide that E250 is too much money to spend? I walked out of the shop empty handed. So I want one but I don’t want one. Why not? Because then I would have to justify the purchase to myself in front of other people.
Conflicted? Moi?
Tomorrow: why I would like an Asus EEE but cannot bring myself to spend the money.
Why not buy from the Apple refurb store?
Some good prices – http://tinyurl.com/25of9k
1 year warranty too.
Oh for Gods sake, just buy one…life is very short, and if you have your bills paid and you’re not starving the dog/children/budgie just BUY IT!!
Yeah, just buy one you over-thinking cunt.
“Your web order number is W85124026”
Hmmmm, Thriftcriminal was about to congratulate you on you asceticism. Then the last comment happened. Now Thriftcriminal recommends that some Opus Dei style mortification is called for to redress the balance.
Good man, 73. You can put all your Damien Rice LPs on it.
Thanks for the tip on the refurbs Twenty. As for Damo Ricecakes, it’ll be right there alongside my Norah Jones and Level 42 albums.
I bet you’ve got the taped up thumb an’ all.
Whats wrong with Level 42?
Twenty: after you?
I don’t know where to start, 73. I just don’t.
I’m a sucker for 80s stuff but that slappy-bassed, weird lipped cunt just does my head in.
It’s a shame that the car he was in, the one where he shared the back seat with Joseph and Emily, didn’t drive off a fucking cliff.
But we all had our Daddy’s eyes….dum dum de dum de dum. Aaah the days.