A Digital Girl Living In A Digital World

For someone who proclaims herself a talker (the fact that I have two blogs and an idea for a third (sad but true) probably automatically makes me a talker), I really don’t like actually talking…on the phone at least – don’t tell my mom though…for all the times I’ve rambled for more than 30 minutes without taking a breath, she might not believe it…

If I could interact with the world completely through text and email, I would.  I’m just better at the written word.  When I speak, it never comes out like I hear it in my head – unless I’ve mentally prepared for whatever we’re talking about (“mentally prepared for” is code for “obsessed over”)…I’m not a naturally eloquent speaker…but I’m an excellent typer! I suck at small talk…I’ve gotten better over the years because I had to learn at least a little, but it’s not a natural thing for me…

It’s gotten so bad that I actually communicate better with This Man through email than I do over the phone.  If we were in the same physical space, it probably wouldn’t matter…part of my distaste for talking on the phone is that I can’t read body language and facial expressions – so that I know when to shut up or change the subject or whether my attempt at a joke actually worked…This Man is one of my rare exceptions to the phone thing…I’ll knock down a little old lady with a walker to get to the phone if I know he’s calling me…

Anyway back to living in the digital world…texting and email was invented for people like me – I don’t really want to physically speak but I want a quicker response than an actual hand-written letter. And while I know a letter received through the mail is really special to a lot of people, I mostly just view another piece of paper as clutter (I hate physical clutter, but have more digital clutter than is probably healthy)…please don’t make me have to hold on to another piece of paper.  But an email?  I have emails that I absolutely view as love letters and that I intend on keeping for as long as there’s a cloud.

I have every email This Man has sent me since September 2011 from mundane to magical.  And while I know he doesn’t always have time to email me (especially as often as I’d prefer being the prolific emailer that I am), every one that comes through sends shivers down my spine…I think I understand the feeling lovers used to get when they received a letter in the mail.  Maybe the rarity of his emails is what makes them so special.

Most people would roll their eyes at the idea of an email being special…or that an email could really be a love letter…we all send off so many emails that take less than a minute to compose everyday that emails aren’t special…so maybe, for me, it’s the intent…for This Man to take the time out of his day to stop, think about how he feels, type it out, and send it, is meaningful…and no, I’m not settling for less than I deserve…my emails from him are the same to me as love letters tied with a ribbon…I pull them out (virtually, of course) and re-read them – for different reasons…when I need reassurance that I’m not dreaming this, when I remember some point he made, but want to read the whole thing, when I miss him and need to feel close…

And there are digital love notes, too…not just sweet text messages, which of course are definitely love notes…but This Man sends me links to songs on YouTube…one day, I’d love to create a playlist of the music we’ve sent back and forth…just because each has a small meaning…most as simple as “I like this one and hope you do too” and some are more than that…

I’m pretty sure my grandmother could never imagine that we would one day go from keeping letters in a box under the bed to holding on to a text message with a YouTube link in it…but (for me at least) they are one and the same…


About Michaela Mitchell

A few things come to mind easily when I think of myself - a mom, a friend, a daughter, a hard-worker. But there's so much more to me - and I just have to discover what it is.

Posted on March 5, 2012, in Love, Random and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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