There is a part of me that is competitive, which really might do better with a label like “anal” or “Type A” or possibly “alpha.” But it’s a terribly small part of the larger whole, so it doesn’t surface very often, and thus it seems fairly unimportant. But then someone turned me onto BookMooch, and the idea of mostly free books kicks the larger part of the whole into gear. So I’ve been reading like mad, just so I can finish books and list them and mail them and get new ones for free. It’s a vicious cycle, terribly vicious. And oh so obsessively compulsively good.

BookMooch: Take your old books, list them, mail them, get points, use those points to get other books for free. Life could not be more obsessively good!

Bembos Zoo: An interactive, brilliant way to tell a story about animals using typography, color and sound.

Rosa Loves: You buy a t-shirt based on a story about someone in need, and the money spent goes toward helping those people meet a goal. Wicked cool!

The Sweet Old Etcetera: an interactive web project created by Alison Clifford that sets the poetry of E.E.Cummings against an imaginary landscape.

“You could start,” my friends tell me, “by answering your phone.” This, unfortunately for them, is met with my usual tepid silence. It is not that I am taking time to ponder a meaningful answer. It is more that I don’t have anything to say.

My friends, you see, are not very fond of my cell phone. The problem, they tell me, the real crux of their angst, is that I am not using my cell phone—like the rest of the world does—to communicate with them on a regular basis.

I am not, as it turns out, doing what they do in Japan, which is write entire novels using their thumbs. Nor am I downloading ring tones that get me into embarrassing situations when the phone rings. I am, essentially, a cell phone neophyte.

So I come to find out what they mean by “regular basis.” They mean daily. But judging by their attempts to communicate with me, I would have to argue that “regular basis” really means hourly. Either way, I apparently do not communicate with them on a regular basis, and this is causing them angst.

Communication, they said, could start out slow and work its way up to a regular basis. I could start by simply answering my phone when they call. This, much to their chagrin, makes me laugh because I tell them I would need to start with something more simple than that. I would need, I say slowly and clearly, to start by turning the volume on.

This, unfortunately, is not what they were expecting. What they were expecting, I gather, was more like: “Got it! No problem! I’ll answer every time you call. I really do want to be cellularly hip.” Thus I was not surprised when my comment was followed by an awkward silence, a tilting of the head, and the scrunching of eyebrows.

My cell phone, I explain, is not a constant portal into my world. And I will not answer my phone if I’m engaged in any of the following: sleeping, going to the bathroom, showering, having sex, exercising, relaxing or eating. The list is longer, actually, but those are the big ones, and I’m hoping it’s enough for them to get the point.

Unfortunately, they do not get the point. So I try to be more crystal clear and explain that I don’t use my cell phone for any of the following: taking pictures, listening to music, twittering, surfing, watching videos, managing my life, organizing my social calendar, or downloading ring tones. Again, the list is longer, but at this point I don’t think a longer list will help clarify the point.

You see, I tell them, my cell phone is a tool, and I use it to make phone calls. It’s my one-way portal into the other world. The world that requires I use a phone to call in sick for work, order pizza, reserve quarter barrels of my delicious Pilsner, and refill prescriptions for happy pills. This list, you might have realized, is slightly longer, but hopefully you get my point.

But there is something I don’t tell my friends. I don’t tell them that I am actually trying to communicate on a regular basis. I read their text messages, I look at their photos. Sometimes I even chuckle because something they said is funny. I just don’t typically have a response.

All of this, I know, is terribly analog of me. It also tends to enforce the notion that I’m socially inept. There are other things to add to this list, but I’ll stop here.

Lesbian Gamers: Women gamers are finally coming out of the closet! Get the latest news and reviews related to lesbian gamers.

outside.in: Zoom in on the latest news, views and conversations happening in your city and your neighborhood.

lowbrow: Before Post Your Secrets there was lowbrow—and it was wicked good. It’s moved into an audio format now, and still as good as ever.

I am not fond of being “online” when I’m on vacation. This is, perhaps, because I prefer to take vacations where technology doesn’t work. It is also one of few times where I will engage in social behavior and actually speak to others in full sentences—with eye contact, even. But this only works if your travel mates are on the same page. Otherwise you find yourself talking to yourself in a potentially psychotic sort of way.

TasteSpotting: Browse through delicious photographs of food, then click on the image to get the recipe so you can actually savor the goodness.

Bent Objects: This guy takes a little bit of wire, some random household objects and bends them into creativity.

Wall House: A living structure that combines a cave, a tent and a house—oh and it’s “green,” too.

ùtilware: a blog, structured like a book, filled with useful nuggets of information and commentary—and it doesn’t look like a WordPress template.

Polling Place Photo Project: Join this experiment in citizen journalism with the New York Times and photograph your experience in this year’s political process.

BookMooch: List your used books, search for used books, mail your old books, receive old books—it’s a book exchange through the mail, and it’s free.

Adam and I have been very busy getting through holidays, new years, and the like. We were not, as one might have hoped, hiding away in dark rooms listening to ambient music and playing the Wii. In fact, neither one of us scored a Wii in 2007, and that’s because people think you need useful gifts when you’re over the age of 35. For the record, and to be totally honest, Adam and I would both prefer a Wii. Until then, we’re back until another moment of hiatus returns.

My coworkers were lounging in their recliners, numb from an afternoon of tryptophan leftovers, back-to-back movies, and napping. Somewhere in all of that the wireless Internet connection went down. Given past experience, I expected an onslaught of profanity followed by pounding fists and a handful of tears. But none of that happened; no one moved, and the room grew quiet again.

I was sacked out on the couch, drifting between states of dream-filled bliss and hazy awareness. I was pulled lightly from sleep when I heard their voices. I thought I had heard someone say the Internet was down, but I wasn’t concerned. I was busy napping, see, and napping trumps everything, so I drifted back to my dreams.

Like most people I’ve observed lately, my coworkers are masters at what I call multi-format multitasking (MFM). They are able to watch movies on the television, surf the Net with their laptops, chat online, send text messages, read a book, study for their next test, do their homework, and nap. And like most, I’ve watched people hit the tremor-filled wall of wireless withdrawals.

So when the Internet went down that afternoon, I was surprised no one had gotten up to check the router. It seems the fastest and easiest solution to keep the tremors from surfacing. But that would require stepping out of the master control room of their electronic bubbles. Why do that when it’s easier to shift your thinking instead?

Anything that required the Internet, no matter how important, was shifted to the back burner. They filled the now-unoccupied space with something else: doodling, making playlists, writing notes in their PDAs, working on projects. All the while they continued to watch the movie, send text messages, make phone calls, do homework and nap. They did this, too, with ease and simplicity.

It seems similar to what happens when you hiccup, or sneeze, or miss your step. It happens—and then you move on to the next thing. Think of the last time you played a scratched CD. When it hits the scratch you click the “next” button and move onto the next song. The scratch doesn’t matter, see, because there are plenty of songs left.

When I finished napping and slid off the couch, someone asked me a question. I couldn’t process it very well in that moment, but I heard very clearly what came next: “the Internet is down.” It took about five seconds for my brain to run through a series of steps: check phone, check modem, check router.

The fix was simple: turn the router off, turn the router on. In less than 30 seconds, the wireless connection was back up. And in less than five seconds, I watched my coworkers seamlessly transition the Internet back into the fray while simultaneously moving its replacement to the back burner. They paused, too, long enough to say thanks.

It was like the scratched CD: they hit the “next” button and moved on, never missing more than a beat.

The Lure of Data: This NY Times article talks about data overload, addiction to gadgets, and whether or not all this multitasking is actually productive.

Multitasking or A.D.D.: A wired mom with three kids wonders if she’s the queen of multitasking or experiencing the symptoms of A.D.D.

Multitasking makes us stupid? We think we’re getting more things done by multitasking, but it turns out we aren’t doing any of them very well.