There was a op-ed in the NY Times a few weeks ago about people who are busy.
There are busy people and not-busy people. I don't know which kind you are but I am not busy. I don't have a calendar full of appointments. On most days I don't have anything to do. I make it up as I go along. I'm not boasting, I would like to be more involved.
I find it almost impossible to communicate with busy people. A busy person is a whirlwind of communication when he's decided to pay attention to me. Not really to me. To my email account and voicemail. We never actually talk, and my emails are never responded to. When he leaves a voicemail he's always on his way to a meeting. No point calling back. Thing is, this could describe twenty people I know. It sometimes seems the whole world is this busy and I am the only one who's standing still.
I'm reading an excellent book, very dense, beautifully written and conceived. It's about two species that are foreign to each other, who don't have enough common experiences to be able to communicate, even though they speak each others' language. Busy people and not-busy people are like that.
A busy friend resented the op-ed as being elitist. I said I thought it was good and that I was not busy myself. He corrected me. You are busy, he said, and briefly explained how he knew this. I could say I'm male and he might as easily have said I'm female. I am in fact not busy. (And male.)
Update: Are you busy?