(MB note: this is part of an occasional selection of random rants which I write that have absolutely nothing to do about the future. Enjoy.) 

It’s ten o’clock in the morning and I need a new cell phone. Exactly why I need a new phone today is another story, but suffice it to say that the fact that I’m driving to the store on a Sunday morning - that is, after Saturday night - is a relevant factor. ?Nuf said.

For years I’ve had the Luddite version of a mobile phone. It did a total of three things effectively: it made calls, it received calls and it dropped said calls in the middle of important conversations. Today, however, I’m taking the plunge and buying a full-fledged PDA. I’ve resisted getting a so-called “smart phone” for years, for a number of reasons. First, depending on my daily caffeine consumption, I have mild to moderate ADD. It’s bad enough that I exacerbate my condition by continuously running email, Yahoo messenger, Gmail and Skype in the background at the office (a practice which gives the impression that I have a larger social network than I actually do while simultaneously providing a never-ending source of excuses to be interrupted). In short, the last thing I need are new ways to be distracted.

Also, despite my delusions of grandeur, the reality is I’m not remotely important or interesting enough to need to be informed of email the nanosecond it arrives. It’s not exactly like I’m in charge of running a nuclear reactor or coordinating surface-to-air missile tests (and if I were, one would surely hope that I wouldn’t be checking email while doing so).

And most importantly, my venture into smart phone ownership means that I can no longer make snarky and disparaging remarks about the CrackBerry addicts who sit in meetings, ignoring the human life-forms in the their presence and squinting anxiously into a 2-inch screen. After today, I’ll be one of them. Like the Borg, I’ll be assimilated.

So it’s with a fair amount of trepidation that I find myself standing in the heart of the electronics department surrounded by dozens of cell phones, all of which are designed and marketed to reinforce the fact that despite a post-graduate degree and $50k in student loans, I will never, ever be as smart as the $7 worth of plastic that I now hold in my hand. I’m staring at a device which looks something like a cross between a computer, a television and a pedometer, but in fact bears absolutely no resemblance whatsoever to a telephone. Pete the sales guy explains that the phone in my hand is the latest engineering design in artificial intelligence. Based on some sort of NASA-quality algorithm, the phone allegedly uses “predictive inquiry” to anticipate my requests. Hmmm, I think, does that mean it’s about to ask if I want my Bloody Mary extra spicy?

Meanwhile, Pete is trying patiently to explain to me (again) the 12-step process needed to check the phone for messages, an act which apparently requires a feat of eye/hand coordination beyond my simple human abilities. Apparently the phone can simultaneously check email, keep track of appointments, update my contacts and remind me to get my oil changed. Here’s a question: if this phone is so damn smart why doesn’t it call voicemail for me? And when it’s done it could start on my taxes. For that matter, if it really wanted to show off it could teach my husband how to wash dishes.

Considering that each of the phones has enough processing power to light up a small Midwestern town, I realize that my purchasing decision boils down to style rather than substance. Today a mobile phone is less a communications device and more a lifestyle choice. Resisting the urge for some impromptu self-analysis, I search the shelves again with a view toward discovering my inner cell phone:

Motorola RAZR

With a name reminiscent of a foreign-born cover girl, the Motorola RAZR (and its BFF the KRZR) is the supermodel of the cell phone world. This is the phone for the South Beach crowd. All glam and Grey Goose, the RAZR is a testament to the importance of fashion over function.

BlackBerry Pearl

This phone is as good looking as it is intelligent. If this phone were a sweater, it would be silk. If it were a vegetable, it would be haricot vert. It’s the All-American phone, the kind that’s naturally, annoyingly good at almost everything. Like the cheerleader-valedictorian, it’s the phone you love to hate.

T-Mobile Dash

The name says it all. You’re busy, over-booked and more often than not, late for something. This is the phone for soccer moms, CPAs and other practical-minded people who don’t have time for extraneous details like remembering what kind of phone they have.

T-Mobile Sidekick

For those who always wanted their own entourage but couldn’t afford the trust fund to buy it. The Sidekick is all about The Scene. The Sidekick says you know who’s in, who’s out and who doesn’t even need to ask.

Palm Treo

A phone only a gadget geek could love, the Treo isn’t so much a phone as it is a measure of manliness. Like most things made for guys, it’s bigger than it needs to be and as the name suggests, is designed for your hand to play with.

LG Chocolate

A phone that taps into the most fundamental of human desires, the LG Chocolate is for those who appreciate the finer things in life, such as a phone that’s designed to look like a candy bar.This is for anyone who hungers for design and has a healthy appetite for aesthetics,because nothing says international sophisticate like a phone that’s part art, part aphrodisiac.

Finally, there’s the Samsung Blackjack. The new kid on the cell phone block, the Blackjack is the unknown maverick. Like its name implies, this the phone for those who laugh in the face of danger: bungee-jumpers, adventure-racers, tap-water drinkers. Personally, I think it speaks to my entrepreneurial sense of risk-taking. So in the end I roll the dice and place my bet on the Blackjack. I’ll let you know if I get lucky.

(note: I’m filing this under CONNECT in our Verge taxonomy … under the category “hazards of connecting in the information age.” Enjoy.)?

Normally I love Mondays. While other people approach the beginning of the week with dread and trepidation, I see Monday morning as an eternal fountain of self-renewal, full of promise and possibility. Monday is the opportunity to baptize oneself of the sins from work weeks past and to start anew.?

Not today, though. Today I wake with a massive email hangover. Over the last twenty four hoursI’ve been on an email binge the likes of which will surely require Google to add another herd to its server farm. It started innocently enough, a typically lazy afternoon on the couch. Figuring I’d use the pre-game show as a chance to catch up on some correspondence, I fire up the laptop. In less than an hour, I’ve sent a colleague a number of emails. Five, to be exact. Well, actually, six:

“Do you know Greg W., CEO of xxx?”

“Have you read “The Best of Technology Writing?”

“Do you have Claudia’s email?”

“Do you know the date of next year’s (insert name of random technology conference here)?”

“Do you remember us talking about a pollution-eating metal thing that goes on the outside of buildings? I remember seeing the picture; it’s sort of bronze and looks like a small sculpture or a metal “screen” that would attach to a fa?ade. Do you by chance have any idea what I’m talking aboutI can’t find the website and it’s driving me crazy….”

After the fifthmessage it occurs to me that sending several one-off questions as separate emails is an extremely inefficient use of bandwidth. And despite Chris Anderson’s assertion that we live in an economy of abundance where bits are as free as air, my guilt over the digital divide finally overwhelms me (how can I use so much bandwidth when others have so little??). I decide that going forward I will put all of my random questions to said colleague into a single comprehensive (perhaps numerically organized) message. And because I’m a compulsive list-maker, I create a draft email full of questions (which I intend to flesh out later) that reads something like this:

Why isn’t tif carbon neutral?

Lots of MAWGs…

Semapedia??

… and then I promptly hit “send”. Aaaarrrggghhhhh! Mortified, I stare at the screen in horror, realizing that seconds from now my colleague will read this last message and come to the rather obvious conclusion that a) my caffeine addiction has reached epic proportions and b) I’ve now started to cyber-stalk him. My emails, in addition to pouring in at a rate of one every twelve minutes, have now taken on a deranged, psychotic tone, surely the fragmented ramblings of a serial-something in the making.?

But here’s the thing. I wish I could say that this particular colleague was the sole victim of my email assault, but sadly that’s not the case. I sent 114 emails yesterday. On a SUNDAY.

Clearly I have no self-control. Clearly I have an attention span equivalent to that of a five year old. Clearly I’m using email in a desperate attempt fill some unmet emotional need. Clearly, I have issues.

It occurs to me that in my email rampage I have revealed certain carefully hidden personality traits, which is as disconcerting to me as the impending delivery of the restraining order that I’m sure is on its way. In short, my uninhibited use of cheap processing power and a DSL line is now threatening the very social relationships I sought to enrich. On the one hand, in the case of said colleague, I haven’t known him long, so he could likely escape any future contact with me with the help of a sophisticated spam filter and a few well-timed “Out of the Office - Forever” replies. On the other hand, he doesn’t know me well enough to understand that (despite all evidence to the contrary) beneath the veneer of a crazed email lunatic I both enjoy and am actually semi-proficient at alternative means of communication. Such as talking, for example.

As the haze of my email hangover begins to subside, I promise myself that I will change. In an effort to regain some measure of self-control (my self-esteem is way past saving at this point), I resolve to engage in an email blackout. A diet, if you will. I will hydrate. I will share the bits and bytes of the world with those who are less fortunate than me. Along with eggnog and macaroons, during this holiday season I will limit my consumption to seventy-five (ok, eighty) emails a day.?

Happy Holidays.

Philips Design and Rivers Run Red, the virtual world design agency, have signed a collaboration agreement to establish a Philips Design presence within the imaginary, on-line community known as Second Life. Philips Design intends to use it’s presence in Second Life to gain feedback on innovation concepts, engage residents in co-creation and gain a deeper understanding of potential opportunities in this virtual environment. In addition to exploring this virtual world to gain insights into potential opportunities, Philips Design will have a space on Second Life where virtual concepts can be tested and residents can participate in co-design projects. In this way, Second Life users can have a greater say in the kind of colors, ergonomics, functionality and other features of products they may wish to buy in this virtual world. This will allow Philips Design to find new ways of relating to end users. Having such direct feedback can significantly enrich the design process and lead to innovative and surprising end results. This fits with the Philips Design philosophy that design should be based around people and grounded in research. It also corresponds to Philips Design’s firm belief that the future of design lies in the co-creation of products. ?This sort of foresighting is extremely powerful,” says Stefano Marzano, Chief Executive Officer of Philips Design. “As the only things that actually exist within Second Life are ideas, it provides us with a real opportunity to better understand the dynamics of intangible value. In addition, value created in this virtual world can also be transferred to the real world. ?

Philips’ move is another example of real world companies moving into virtual worlds to capitalize on the real opportunities virtual worlds offer.

Increasingly green roofs are being recognized as environmental workhorses. They lighten the load on municipal sewage treatment facilities because they retain up to six times more storm-water than conventional roofs. They reduce urban heat islands, absorb air pollution and store carbon and they can be an aesthetic option to tradition roofs.

Click on the photo of the Chicago City Hall to learn more…