4.26.25: No More CDs

I haven’t owned a CD in decades, and that realization hits weird sometimes. There was a time when my entire world revolved around them—saving up for a new album, flipping through the booklets, burning mixes for friends, organizing stacks by genre or mood. It felt personal, tangible. Now everything’s just… streaming. Instant, convenient, infinite—but also kind of hollow. No cracked cases, no liner notes, no weird hidden tracks at the end of song 12. I don’t miss the clutter, but I miss the ritual. CDs were more than music—they were a soundtrack to a whole era of life.