Months ago, a couple neighbors and myself, over tasty German adult beverages, were outside of our apartments engaging in what is always an interesting conversation. Really, I'm fortunate to have excellent neighbors. That cold evening topics ranged from relationships, to politics, to alcohol, due largely in part to the latter. However, something profound came up that night that is worth further consideration, obviously, because it hasn't left my head and I'm writing about it.In today's society people talk in one of two ways: the cellular phone or the Internet. Shit, that's the same thing, sorry. In fact, I can't remember the last time someone confessed to me they wrote a genuine letter, on lined 8 1/2 x 11 inch paper, walked out to their mailbox, and flipped up the little flag up. Can you? My own tech-savvy mother hasn't even done it since I've been out here; that being said, I am humored when I receive her emails [this week there was an attachment on one]. But there is another angle to this communication fiasco, the loss of the human element; the personal, genuine touch that comes with taking the tedious steps of writing a letter and filling it with glitter or some other cut up pieces of shit. Greeting cards are a cop out, plus ecards are alot more interesting. Furthermore, dialing someone up has now become a thing of the past.
That's what technology does, it makes us lazy. Names have been replaced with screen names; mailboxes with inboxes. Admit it, it's much easier to end difficult relationships through a text message, email, or instant message, than it would ever be over a phone call, or if the minerals are strong enough, actually in person. Has anyone ever called you back to tell you that you didn't get a job? Yeah, me neither. It's now even easier to cancel plans on ugly men or women, or say "Merry Christmas" to thousands of people like my friend Steven Goldstein. Tears really flow down my eyes when I get those text messages every New Year's Eve.
Understandably, emails have their place [ie, sending resumes, daily correspondence, sending nude pictures quickly] The worst text message: "Hey hows it going?". Just call dammit, if you want to have a conversation. And the worst time to do it: the weekend, when phone calls are unlimited.
