Tuesday, December 18, 2012

The End Of My Road

Testing. Testing. One two. Testing. One two three.

There we go, it’s on.

In just a few minutes, the last notes of my life will be strummed away electronically out into the frequency of nowhere.

As he would say, “for full effect, slowly hum “Taps” in the back of your head.” I would of course play it for you, but as you can assume, I am almost dead, and my microcontrollers aren’t firing that well anymore. Oh well, such is the end of one’s life.

I would like to state that I am a third generation 30GB Apple iPod writing this blogpost, composing away from my musical deathbed. It sure has been a great six-and-a-half years here on this electronically charged place that you all call Earth. In your years, I’m like a living legend, a centenarian; a creature that most of you would just stuff away into a retirement community on Miami Beach. But hey, Brock and I stuck together up until the end. And I’m content with that.

There sure is a stockpile of memories that I supplied great accompaniment to over the years that we were together. After text-gate, I comforted him with “Heart Songs” by Weezer. When it was three in the morning and he was loaded up on Mt. Dew trying to stay awake after a long work trip back from Arizona, yeah, I played “Ain’t No Rest For The Wicked” by Cage the Elephant on repeat 73 consecutive times so that he could sing his eyes open all night. And don’t you dare forget about the most dramatic sequence of “Bohemian Rhapsody” that was perfectly timed from start to finish with Brock and his roommates re-enacting Wayne’s World. Yeah, I was there. I heard every note.

The list of reminiscing goes on and on. The spontaneous anti-social media road trip to Mt. Pleasant that he took, “Friend is a Four-Letter Word” by Cake was my therapy. That morning when he crossed the finish line of that absurd 26.2-mile race, I rewarded him with “The Catalyst” by Linkin Park. That camping trip to Richfield with the great Jeremiah Rawson, of course I gave him the background music “One of these Days” by Doves. Or what about that crazy month when he cut his head open at the U? “Gimme Shelter” by the Stones was the best soothing ointment I could supply.

And so what if our relationship was a little bit abusive at times? We all have our down moments, don’t we? All of the scratches, the dings, the bruises, the cracks, they were all worth it. I have lived my life to its absolute fullest. I’ve been dropped on pavements, on treadmills, into snowbanks and bowls of cereal, you pick a place, and I’ve been violently shoved there. And now, my life’s curtains are slowly being drawn to a close.

You see, everybody dies at some point in this life, in a variety of different ways. My cousin Chuck, yeah, he kicked the bucket overheating on a park bench down in Albuquerque last July. My old girlfriend Lacey, she was the opposite; going out last winter with hypothermia one night when she was trapped in a car in Provo. There was my Uncle Brett, the night that he had open-heart surgery and just couldn’t pull through after they failed to reattach his severed circuit board. I even remember the night Brock accidentally left my two cousin Nanos in the washing machine, and they both drowned to their own deaths. Tragic, I know. But hey, we all go out one way or another.

As for me and my rusty hard drive, well, I’m on my own way outta here. It’s been a good run, that’s for sure. All of the songs, stories, and sentiments will be locked up for good once my battery stops flashing. And so what if I get replaced by some fancy new girl all decked out with her lightning speed apps that get fired up by the touch of her screen? She’ll be nothing like me. She’ll be some new age, high-tech, shallow gadget who won’t hold a candle to what I’ve given in my 6-and-a-half years. She’ll just be a cold contraption of aluminum whose songs don’t mean a thing.

Here it comes. I can almost feel that frozen grip about to pull me away. I wish I could play “Don’t Fear The Reaper” or “Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” to make this transition just a bit more poetic, but I’m all out of juice. My volume level is down to its last decibel. Even so, I'm sure at this point there's not a single soul out there listening to me anymore.

Testing. Testing. One two three. Testing. One two.

What do you think?

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