Hello friends of the interwebs, how are you today?
I am writing from the table of my living room. Where are you? Are you looking at your phone, your computer, or by chance your real life?
Has the internet become part of our life completely now? Information overload! There are so many opinions floating about the space. Everyone has an opionion and this one is mine.
I started writing when I was about seven. It was when I got a crayon in my hand. I would start by writing my name. In retrospect I think I was dislexic because I would switch the j to have the bottom part go to the right and not the left. I did that actually for quite a while.
The first true letter I wrote was when my neighbor and best friend left to spend the summer with her dad. We had stamps and we had addresses so we could write each other. I think I was about nine.
I took out some stationery that I had received for a birthday present and started writing. Funny thing about that letter is that the paper was made in a way that in folded many times, like eight times into a small postal size envelope. I didn’t have enough words to fill in all of the paper so I just signed my name really big along the last five pages.
Then I remember something I wanted to write so I wrote it super small at the bottom. I think I wrote something like come home soon.
My writing improved during my year abroad. I had a friend of mine who had joined the peace corps and was sent on a mission somewhere. She and I had addresses and new lives, on two new continents, so we filled eachother in on the differences.
She lived where it was super hot so I especially loved seeing the sweat marks running down her pen strokes. Those were the days, my friend! We thought they’d never end. We’d sing and dance for ever and a day. We had a life to live, we’d fight and never lose, those were the days, oh, yes, those were the days.
In those days, we didn’t have the internet. I lived without a phone too for a year when I was 22. If we needed to make a phone call, we walked downtown, found the central post office, waiting in line and made our phone call. I would call my mom and talk for about five minutes and it would cost about $20. I would leave that phone booth both exhillerated and empty with longing to talk more.
How spoiled we are now! How lucky we are to be able to call and see our loved ones. What is even better is to see them in real life!