The blackberry buzz. It can be an invitation, or it can be a leash.
As it starts to hum on your table, you grab it. Try to reduce the feedback. I look over at my brother, and he's furiously typing away. In all seriousness I can't tell for sure whether he is happily chirping to his beautiful wife that they'll be together momentarily, or putting the nag off for another hour.
That's the conundrum. The proximity of two such divergent emotions. Work and home. Play and responsibility.
How do you know when to pick it up? How do you know when to let it go?
The leash grabs you by the neck and won't let go. Circling round the table and interrupting conference calls with its insidious drone.
Sometimes I'm reminded of my failings as a human being by the sheer brilliance of others. The guy who invented the Blackberry is not one of them. OK, maybe the guy who invented it is, but not the guy who marketed it to he businessman. And sure as shit not the businessman who used it from there.
Drop the leash. Get out of my fucking face. We are young.
