Living in the Future

I'm sitting in a shop writing this. I'm waiting for a shop assistant to talk to me and so I've decided to whip out my laptop and start blogging. I have a wireless connection to the internet, I'm sitting in Birmingham city centre and I'm communicating globally. It is at times like this that I think 'Wow, I'm living in the future'. In fact I'm feeling very now, very switched on, very plugged into my generation. I'm part of something big and shiny and technologically advanced. Perhaps I will let slip a girlish giggle of sheer joy and everyone will look at me funny. Or perhaps I will order a pizza to be delivered to the shop. Or fire up MSN and talk to my friends online. Or browse through every single album I own. Or download pictures of people getting hit in the crotch by footballs. Ha ha, witness me, a computerised collusus with fibre optic veins and a RAM chip plugged directly into my brain pan. I am invincible, immune to viruses and spy ware, my thoughts carried through a network of thrumming digital wires to land slap bang in the middle of your monitor. I can ... play solitare without any cards, sweep for mines without getting blown-up. I'm high on information, drunk on data, spaced out on html protocols. I'm so advanced I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, I just made that last bit up and it still makes sense to me. And through the rush of ones and zeros I can still here my mother's voice.

'Don't eat the red Starbursts, you know what happens to you.'