Wednesday, December 15, 2004
someone, anyone, send me an EMAIL!
For some reason, I very rarely receive personal emails these days.
By personal, I mean NOT from an academic advisor, Amazon.ca, Penis Enlargements Incorporated., various professors, or people I don't know inviting me to things or thanking me for doing something not so impressive, like a blood drive.
It also does not include those damn SMS invitations: "So-and-so-who-you-probably-haven't-spoken-to-in-months-is-for-some-inexplicable-reason-inviting-you-to-become-a-member-of-yet-another-text-messaging-community. Love, Joe-Blow-so-and-so." These people don't care if I send them messages or not. It's just a form letter sent by an annoying company trying to send everyone more spam. And if there's one thing that drives me completely up the wall, it's spam.
Those messages should go straight into the trash, except I'm so desperate for personal correspondance that I actually read AND keep them. Now that is sad.
Whatever happened to the good not-so-old-fashioned email, sent by a person with whom you have something genuine to discuss or catch up on? What happened to actual: "Hey, how are you, I'm really into S&M these days, what are you up to?" messages? (That, by the way, was an actual email I got from a friend from high school a while ago).
Hell, I'd actually settle for a bit of venom. You know those emails where someone tells you off for any number of dramatic and usually overblown reasons, like "you were flirting with my boyfriend," or "I heard you broke up with so-and-so," or "My friends think you're flaky," or "you're a real geek -- fuck off" or "oh by the way, I told my girlfriend that you're a whore." As much as those messages are destructive and generally uncalled-for, I could deal with them right now if it meant that I could have some actual written interaction with someone for a change.
Anger is always better than indifference. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.
So I refuse to be indifferent to the fact that people don't write to me. Instead, I will be angry. But like the good and patient friend that I am, I will continue to wait for responses and keep the venom locked deep inside.
There isn't really that much venom, anyway. I'm being a drama queen. But what do you expect after a two-hour tap dance recital? Realism? Fuck no.
I'll take my drama anyday.
Cordial salutations.
-N
