A kid carries his walkman on that long bus ride to Omaha

I’ve always been somewhat old fashioned when it comes to portable music devices. Maybe you could call me technology-phobic, but mostly it’s just a distrust of this little gadget with too many buttons and functions, that turns something so simple into something so frustratingly difficult. It’s not an unfounded fear, after all, your portable music device is your own pocket sized best friend, and arguably the best friend you’ll ever have.

For my 10th birthday my parents bought me a black Sony Walkman. It was the best present I’d ever received and everyone knew it. From that day on I was unreachable to the outside world, constantly wearing headphones, and an obsessive hoarder of cassettes. Perhaps the seeds had already been sown, but that Walkman certainly helped me on the way to the unsociable act of replacing people with music. Wherever I went, Walkman went too. One day the belt clip broke and I had to be inventive; now pockets, bags and even underwear had to allow Walkman space.

At 14, a glowing school report bought me a celebratory Discman. It was a novelty that lasted longer than most. I no longer had to spend hours making tapes on the living room floor, I could just throw my favourite CD’s in my bag and still make it to school in time for registration. The fact that it refused to fit in any pocket, no matter how hard I tried didn’t seem to matter either, I went very few places without my tip-ex stained record bag anyway. My relationship with Discman was a happy one, perhaps the only happy relationship of the mid-teenage period, but like everything, even Discman must die, and eventually the CD skipping as I walked to and from the bus stop became constant… and irritating. Discman went to bottom drawer heaven and trusty old Walkman was my best friend again.

The new millennium dawned with the arrival of a little silver box. It was back to taping my favourite songs on the living room floor, but with Minidisc-man it seemed all the more sophisticated. Minidisc-man didn’t eat battery’s like Discman did, and with me travelling further for my college education and spending an increasing amount of time out of the house and in the company of hot young boys in bands, seemed like the perfect portable music playing companion. The problem came when Minidisc-man and I didn’t have any chemistry. Sure, he was shiny and silver, and could fit in almost any pocket… but there was just nothing endearing or terribly practical to win me over.

My true love began to make me mix tapes as a token of his undying affection and Walkman and I were inseparable again. He was now almost a decade old and had some problems with the occasional cassette. Sometimes he would make a chugging sound, but never gave up on me. We went out into the big, wide world together, and no matter how many mix tapes from significant insignificants and four and a half hour train journeys I presented my poor old Walkman with, he chugged along constantly and faithfully. Then one day, after almost 13 years of loyalty, Walkman just stopped. My Father was kind enough to loan me his cheap, modern Walkman, but it didn’t compare… and to be honest, I think I’ve wore the poor thing out(you could say, they don’t make them like they used to!) I returned his faithful friend to him before it died completely and tried to show some respect for my beloved 10th birthday present Walkman. Here my dilemma began.

These days, everyone and their dog have one of these fancy ipod thingies. I’ve never seen one close up, but from where I’m standing they look like jolly scary little buggers, with lots of buttons and things that make no sense when all I want to do is listen to something that will make my shitty day seem bearable. I unwillingly convinced myself that a mini ipod would be the answer to my predicament. They’re tiny enough to fit into the pocket of any particular garment enveloping my size six waist, come in pretty colours and can hold so many songs that I couldn’t get bored for at least a week, maybe longer.

Asking for advice it seems, leads me further into my dilemma. My good friend, miss bad-influence tells me no. Miss bad-influence tells me that a big white dentist surgery like ipod is far superior, and for only a few dollars extra holds a million more songs so I’ll never, ever get bored. Confused? Me too.

I wish my black Sony Walkman had some life left in him, but I understand that I should move forward like the rest of the world. I can use an ipod. I can love an ipod. I just need a little reassurance, and a little faith... but mostly lots and lots of reassurance. And quite possibly a bank loan.