Lifeus Interruptus

I remember when I first got myself a brand new email account,many,many eons ago when the Internet was a gizmo rather than a doorknob.

It was a shiny new Hotmail account,if I remember correctly,with just one mail sitting coyly,ankles crossed,in the virginal inbox:

“Welcome”,it said,or some such.

Innocent as a blushing bride.

Who would have imagined!

Did I even suspect the amount of grief it would cause me in later years?

No.

Did I once imagine the minutes,the hours,the days of my life it would snatch from under my very nose?

Absolutely not.

Because it just sat there innocently,seductively,saying:

“Use me. I will be fast. I will be reliable. I will bring you instantly in touch with your furthest friends.”

So I,gullible I,took the bait.

And in the beginning,all was as promised and all was well.

I excitedly showed off to all my less fortunate friends,relatives and other hapless entities who would deign to peer over my proud shoulders.

“See? I type my message in here. Then I click on this button here: Send. And that’s it! My mail has reached its destination.”

“Already?”

Their incredulity was flattering.

“You don’t have to put any stamps?”

“You don’t have to lick the envelope?”

“Is it faster than QMS?”

I glowed in their generous envy.

Cut to:

I hate the bloody thing!

Sitting there on my desk,on my lap,in my car,at the airport,in the coffee shop,in the airport bus,in the airplane,at the recording studio,at the shoot,on my bed,in my bathroom even,constantly whining for attention.

“You haven’t read me,you haven’t read me!” the letters in bold seem to scream.

“Reply now! Before you do anything else,reply”

I bravely wade through the mail,but no matter how hard I try,how diligent (and that’s a very hard word for me to even spell!) I try to be,I never seem to get to the bottom of my mailbox.

In the old days someone would ask me a question,and if we were in a meeting or even on the old black,round dial,telephone,I would answer,she would ask some more,I would answer some more,and then poof,it was over.

Now with wonderful email,a conversation can drag on for a week,a month even,popping up whenever it feels like,always demanding that I pay critical attention to it,that I refocus on what was said three minutes ago,or last Tuesday,and reply

Then jump across to another conversation refocus,re-attend,and reply.

And just when you thought you had put one conversation to bed,poop,it pops up again,like upward traveling pooh,reply,reply,reply.

A bit like trying to attend many,many meetings simultaneously,hopping from one conference room to the other,with none of them ever getting over.

And before you know it,the sun has set and nothing has been done and life has not been lived and it’s time to go to bed.

I hate email.

Back and forth,ping and pong,on and on,and always on.

Meanwhile,the earth spins on its ancient journey around its sun.

Spinning past my cycle ride.

Spinning past my promised walk with my daughter as she skates.

Spinning past my holiday,my Sunday even.

Maybe I should desert the army,go for a movie,lick an ice cream cone,charm a pigeon,hold hands,be silent.

Or on second thoughts.

Maybe I should just hunker down.

And bloody reply to my mail.

Lazy boy!

adipochas@yahoo.com