It was a pleasure to meet you. I truly enjoyed it. Tell me, what’s the best way for me to reach you?
Should I send you an email? Should I call? Will you get a voicemail if I leave one? Do you still even use voicemail? Want me to Skype in? Do you prefer SMS? Is that your mobile, or Google Voice number? Does Google Voice let me send pictures on SMS now? It doesn’t? Are you sure? That seems crazy.
Do you have an iPhone? Because maybe I could send you an iMessage? Is there any way to know where it went? Like, did it go to your phone or your iPad or your Mac or, where, exactly? All those places? Why does it do that?
Do you have Kik? Or a WhatsApp? Are you on Facebook Messenger? Do you have a Twitter account? Will you follow me for a DM? What do you mean you don’t have to follow for DM? How long has that been going on?
Should we just go old school and chat? Do I need to take it OTR for security purposes? Do I need to encrypt the chat? What about Wickr? Too ugly? Or maybe just Snapchat? Will Snapchat do? And what the fuck is up with Snapchat stories, or whatever? I don’t really get those.
So, look, do you want me to call you on Google Hangout? Google Hangout does SMS now? So… Can I send a picture to your Google Voice via a Google Hangout? Are you sure? I’m pretty confused.
This is how I feel about modern communications, even with people I know and love, every. single. day.
I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not. Otherwise they turn up unannounced and surprise us, come hammering on the mind’s door at 4 a.m. of a bad night and demand to know who deserted them, who betrayed them, who is going to make amends. We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget. We forget the loves and the betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, forget who we were.
It is a good idea, then, to keep in touch, and I suppose that keeping in touch is what notebooks are all about. And we are all on our own when it comes to keeping those lines open to ourselves: your notebook will never help me, nor mine you.
- Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem: “On Keeping a Notebook”
via the ever wonderful Brain Pickings