Most people who know me can attest that my iPod and I are practically attached. Any time there’s a break in a class for studying, I’m usually the kid asking if we can listen to music. As soon as I get home from school, my ear buds are drowning out any other distractions. I like to hear music as much as I can, so you can see what problems it would pose if I lost my iPod. Of course, holding on to such a small object everywhere I go would require a lot of responsibility on my part.

So I obviously lost it.

Exactly one week ago, my device was left at either a Chipotle, a Best Buy or a Nebraska Furniture Mart. It’s probably currently in the hands of a greasy-fingered, morally-twisted kid who would sooner die than turn in his newly found bounty to the proper authorities. All of my sophisticated, mature albums have probably already been deleted in favor of whatever tawdry Top 40 singles fit the tastes of such an ethically-indecent individual. He’s probably even deleted my Doodle Jump high score.

I’m going to separate myself from the disgusting narrative above before I begin to weep, and discuss my experiences without my iPod in the last week. What has surprised me most about my lack of digital music has been my newfound reliance on the compact-disc format. Indeed, I would rather rely on a nearly obsolete device than listen to commercial radio. I have already spent upwards of $15 on blank CDs and a spiffy case to hold all of my discs in my car. I’ve spent at least an hour each night burning albums and playlists for my car, time and money that I haven’t spent on my iPod in months. As such, I’m beginning to feel a stronger bond to the music that I actually have at my disposal.

Could losing my iPod possibly strengthen my relationship with music?