My mother once told me, “when you need to get your work done, head to the library; it’s the only place you can go where there are no distractions.”

Clearly, my mother has never heard of iTunes.

Lamont’s convenient wireless Internet has sucked up enough of my time as it is. With Instant Messenger and the Drudge Report at my constant disposal, I’ve spent untold hours neglecting my Justice reading (sorry, Kant) and wondering why God had to invent the laptop. Does he want us to fail?

Unfortunately, ever since Apple released a Windows version of its popular music program iTunes, I’ve been spending less time with Locke and more time with Lennon. On the surface, the program is just a cleaner, more organized way to play digital music. But it boasts one dastardly feature that has led to the complete termination of my productivity. With iTunes, users can share their music collections with others on their local networks. This means that when I’m at Lamont, I have access to the music of the iTunes user sitting across the room, assuming she’s allowing her files to be shared.

Did I say one user? I meant a dozen. The last time I logged on, I had more than 10,000 songs at my disposal. My history book sat untouched beside me as I feverishly scanned through playlist after playlist, discovering heretofore-unknown treasures and old favorites (The Jackie Brown soundtrack? I lost that CD sophomore year! An out-of-print Weezer EP? There is a God!) Apple has even provided users with a solution to those pesky RIAA lawsuits. Songs are only streamed onto a user’s computer; they cannot be saved or burned onto a disc. Because copyrighted material is not actually being transferred, there aren’t any irritating legal issues to deal with.

And finding new songs isn’t the only perk; iTunes can also forge new relationships. One’s musical tastes can provide plenty of insight into personality and compatibility. At Lamont last week, I was smitten by Margo, whose vast collection of soundtracks and eclectic pop tastes mirrored my own aural fetishes. Was Margo my true soulmate? Were we meant to be? A quick directory search suggested that the answer was, sadly, no. The only undergraduate Margo I found was some guy in Currier House, although there is a visiting professor at the Law School who just may be the future Mrs. Grynbaum.

Guilt-free file sharing has finally arrived. But be warned—between exhausting a stranger’s Bjork collection and finding true love, iTunes has made the library the new KaZaA, minus the shady legal qualms. What was once a procrastination device for the dorm room has now expanded to even that most hallowed of study spaces. I guess we’ll just have to learn to discipline ourselves…but first I’m going to finish listening to The White Album. Sorry Mom.

—Michael M. Grynbaum is a news comper.