In response to Revenge of the Analog, I decided I would rely on the postal service to deliver my text message responses. I live in an antiquated world of my own creation, as my play and free time is large spent with analogous experience. I admittedly own the tapes, regularly listen to vinyl, and own a surmountable stockpile of 80’s-90’s Nintendo artifacts, which I play to unwind, weekly. Although the ancient game systems would have been the easiest means to transport everyone with without a time machine, I opted for letter writing. Although I have tried in the past (I am a terrible correspondent during any given semester), I thought I would approach it differently this time.

So often, we check our text messages as a means of quick or passive response. The way in which I personally approach texting is unquestionably passive, sometimes leaving the phone in other rooms, coming to find emergencies on the screen of my phone, rather than actual phone calls, usually to something I don’t ultimately find pressing. I, for many years was plagued by the overriding panic of waiting for a message, but I have worked myself into a “mindful” place, living in the moment, with reservations about immediate communication needs. Coming out of class on Tuesday at 4:45 pm, I found 11 texts from 5 people, and decided I would address them once I had arrived at my next destination. An illuminating thought, what if I responded to them through letter writing? A century ago, this type of communication would have arrived by pony express (or train) and pressing conversation would have been wired or spoken in person. Conceptually, I would need to respond to the pressing matters first, such as my mother’s, “What day is your flight? I’m putting in for my vacation Friday,” clearly needed a response in that moment. I decided to write her the boring, “I registered for A, B, C, D, E for Fall…” along with one of my class papers, which I usually send by email. This particular piece of mail felt boring, but I was trying to stick to my plan of writing to all five of my text messages senders.

In deciding which texts to respond to, it was simple, as conversation always dulls resulting in “what did you do today,” and “how’s everything?” I decided in three instances overall there were deeper questions to answer through letter writing. I just needed to keep my recipients at bay, proclaiming how busy I was, and in one case completely avoiding the conversations by asking the sender self-indulgent questions about themselves to the point of distraction.

No one can resist the charm of personalized, handwritten mail!

Having the tools needed to complete this task helped tremendously. I get stamps regularly for my grandfather and I, so I know that is no chore, and a little over $10 for an entire book. However, unexpectedly, I found the writing itself to be a more elaborate process. Taking into consideration the length of my intended message I found some of the smallest and least tacky of my paper/stationary collection, and a postcard someone once gave me, I’m going to send it back to them. I then sat down to write. What style of penmanship is appropriate to write? Is my doctor-like script too hard to interpret? Why does my hand hurt so much? Perhaps the paper was too big, maybe I didn’t have enough to say, or maybe drawing seemed easier when I ran out of things to comment on. Some of the letters included doodles that I tried to make relevant, including pictures of themselves sending me texts. In another case, I drew the actual text bubbles to introduce what I was referring to, since the letter seems so out of place and out of context to begin with. In writing itself, I found myself using more flowery and eloquent language than I would normally send in a 7 word reply. I fought my urge to draw emoji, something I didn’t realize I was using to imply connotation. I felt the need to also include important information such as where I was writing from, what date and time, as well as to mention how strange and interesting this exercise was. I suppose the date was for pertinence and my uncertainty about how long it would take to be delivered. I also wrote one each day, trying to spend at least 15 minutes writing each letter.

In the end of each letter, I included a short request that they write back, because I do love any and all constructs of exchange. Additionally, I would love for someone to experience the same intimacy with the transaction and process. It was fun to come up with doodles and interesting things to talk about, or include a poem that was uplifting only to default to some quirky, ever so existential, Bukowski. Overall, the experience of writing feels more like a craft, leaving room for creativity and a need to take time to plan it all out.

My reaction and excitement about getting surprise real mail is only comparable to a small child getting exactly what they want for their birthday. My unending fascination with paper, notebooks and postcards supports that this is a long-time-coming (cue Sam Cook) project, that I intend to continue.

I think I’ll be standing next to the mailbox in anticipation… until I get something other than bills.