Pen Paling

My pen pal and friend, Matt, just sent me this essay he wrote for one of his writing classes at school and I thought I would share. It seems I'm on trip down memory lane... July's in the past have held some pretty big events in my life... camps, finishing up AmeriCorps NCCC in Denver, flying to South Africa for Peace Corps... In 2005, it was the month when I met some of my pen pals.. people that have since become good friends of mine. Some people may think the whole situation as crazy, but when you put yourself out there, sometimes you get the sweetest of rewards. The short story? Dominique and I were unemployed and passing our days at a local coffeeshop, playing Yahtzee, making friends, and having fun. I posted postings on the Craigslist sites for Seattle, Vancouver, Portland, Madison, Chicago, Boston, Philly, Minneapolis,accidentally Austin, and Columbus. I had something like 80 email responses, I ended up getting letters (at a PO Box) from 30 different people, and now I keep in touch with a handful of people. I got letters from Michael who went on a little touring of the west and he used writing to me as a kind of journal. I went on a 6 week long roadtrip with Jeremy from Austin to Portland, where he now lives (he was originally from Philly). Dave from Vancouver has a typie and a love of trains so I know we're friends forever. Becky and I have written of the ups and downs and exchanged all kinds of good music. I met Dave from Austin for Korean food and coffee and vinyl record browsing and he was a serious calm for me right before I left. I met Michael of Austin right before I left and gave him my favorite Springsteen album (Nebraska) to help with the building of his vinyl collection. And Matt... good ol Matt. He moved across the country from Philly when I moved to South Africa. We started our adventures around the same time. He sends me pictures he's taken and writes me from the tops of hills overlooking the waters of the west coast. This all proves that it is truly possible to have friends you've never met. And they're good friends. Happy 4 years of pen paling you guys!
And here is Matt's essay....

Saying It Slowly
by Matthew

For the most part, getting in touch with close friends, to say how I am, to report my life, voice anxieties, seek advice, all of those things which one seeks friends for; I can, like most people, usually rely on a text message, an email, Facebook, or a cell phone call that more often then not will find the person that I am looking for no matter where they are. This process is so fast that it becomes impulsive. I feel a rush of loneliness and a few alphanumerical clicks reaches out with “what u up 2?” Whether I get a reply or not (and more often then not I do) I can relax and be at ease, confident that my presence in the world is known and appreciated. What I have to say is irrelevant, as long as I am heard. It seems that with the speed of instant communication, that which needs to be to be communicated speeds up as well. My worries and anxieties, rather than needing to be processed, are cast into the world for someone else’s ingestion and interpretation. I need feedback before I can process. Momentary things become news. Or rather, my life becomes momentary. What’s happening in this moment is all that there is. Even though I will forget tomorrow what is happening right now, now is when I need support.
It is because of this dynamic that makes pen-pal-ship a beautiful thing. With a pen pal, life is not so immediate. While techno-enthusiasts might scoff at the idea of correspondence through “snail mail” as old fashioned as platform shoes, there is something about the slowness of this process that can’t be found in an email or instant message. When I write my pen pal (Megan, of Austin TX, now serving in Peace Corps, South Africa) I know that the immediate, day-to-day things that are on my mind will be simply a memory by the time my letter reaches to her, and more than likely will be totally forgotten by the time I receive a response. What happens here is that the slowness adds depth. I have to step out of my life in order to report a bigger picture, because I need to sum up my life, not in the moment, but in the week, the month, the season. Slowness commands attention. The feeling of a pen in the hand, and the way that it applies ink to the page engages in the process of communicating in a way that an instant message can’t compete with. For a different tactile experience, I can get out my manual Smith-Corona, and my thoughts roll out with a gentle ‘’pat-pat-pat-pat’’. Thoughts take different form when they reach the page through the smell of keys pressing ink and the ding of the bell.
Although I’m usually not so creative, Megan often chooses interesting stationary, colored envelopes, and various flat things to fill envelopes, photographs, feathers from the hens that live in the yard of her South African home. The experience is tactile. There is an envelope to tear open and contents to explore. The time and space given to this process is removed from the clutter of a PC desktop and a bursting email in box. There is simply ink and paper. It is this slowness and lack of distraction that allows for the collection of myself, which finds its way onto paper and is shipped half way around the globe.
Letter writing is not the only method of communication which once required more removal from life in years past than in present day. In days long past, telephones were often located in front hallways of homes, creating the sense that to answer it is to invite someone into your home just the same as you would the door. One steps out of his routine to do this. We have come a long way to our current situation, where to be cut off mid-sentence for someone to answer a cell phone is so common that it is barely considered rude. Is it not a shocking adjustment that phones are now a thing of a person, and not a thing of a household? A number belongs to a person and not a place. What of the anonymity that caller ID has done away with? If you don’t answer, am I to understand that you don’t wish to talk to me? On the other side, am I entitled to be unavailable to be reached? Perhaps returning home to find mail in the mailbox and messages on the machine is a better time to process correspondence than to be in a constant state of knowing who is getting in touch.
Today, making plans with friends involves phrases like “I’ll call you when I’m on my way” or “call me and let me know where you are and we can meet up.” How much more confident were friendships of days past, when time and place had to be predetermined, with no opportunity for adjustment along the way? What of meeting a new romantic interest, and committing their digits to memory? Now the numbers associated with those who are most important are entrusted into an electronic catalogue in a device manufactured to be given away free with a contract.
In a world where the speed of communication is constantly being applauded for making life easier, we must remember that with a change in technology comes a change in the communication itself. Content and vehicle are forever intertwined. While the speed of interconnectedness of our time can be a wonderful thing, remembering the richness of slow and inconvenient communication reveals a depth unable to be imitated.