The Art of Connection

A very dear friend mentioned my Twitter feed the other day. She said something to the effect of, “boy hidey [note: not all of my friends speak with outrageous Texan expressions, you know, but apparently my brain, in recounting conversations, does] you sure spend a lot of time on Twitter some days.”

I think in the moment I mumbled something like, “Yep, Friend, I sure do.”

But then I started thinking on the long road trip to the Thanksgiving cabin. Do I spend too much time on Twitter? Am I being completely ridiculous? Am I unproductive as a result?

The answers, in case you were wondering, are: maybe, for sure, and resoundingly no.

After some thought, I responded to her with an email that went a little something like this.

Dear Friend,

Remember when we worked together at our 9-5? Yeah, those were some good times; I miss them, too. You know what I miss the most? Our lunch hours where we could talk about ridiculous things and be silly and funny—or sometimes be totally serious and talk about big ideas.

I also miss the afternoon walks we’d sneak when we had time. Those circuits round the building fed body and soul. I miss spending time with you during the work day.

But, though I miss our lunches and walks, I’m so glad we still have email and text messages. Because I’d be sad not to “hear” your voice during the day. PS—that email you sent with the link to the thing? Oh my gravy!!! Hysterical. I watched it five times in a row. I maybe pee-laugh-cried a little.

xxoo

Me

I know I’m not the first to suggest that Twitter is a virtual water cooler for those of us who work solitary jobs—and even for those of us who don’t. Twitter, when used wisely, isn’t a tweet and run kind of place; although, there are times when it functions amazingly as such. My Twitter is that afternoon walk around the building with the work bestie, the lunch hour spent laughing and possibly pee-laugh-crying. It’s a place to share and to receive. To connect.

I think it’s absolutely wild that there are strangers willing to connect with me. And, what’s more, that those strangers become friends. Technology, boy hidey.

So in the season of gratitude, thanks, and resolutions (I know, we’re not quite to resolution season yet, but I’ve always got time to improve my life, don’t you?), I’ve decided that as much as I enjoy modern technology and the strangers-slash-friends it has brought me, I should also embrace my roots: the art of the card.

I have shoeboxes full of cards and notes exchanged through childhood camp excursions, postcards from travels, and those wonderfully amazing and turbulent teen years. I treasure them! And though I have old floppy disks and hard drives filled with emailed love letters from college, and even from the front lines of war, I don’t bring those out on a rainy day and page through them. 

I want to write cards to people. Holiday cards. Just because cards. Some I will buy, some I will make. All I will address with my faux calligraphy skills. (Lucky you!)

Would you like to receive one, some, many over the next year? I’d love to send you one, some, many! This isn’t an author newsletter, it’s not spam, I won’t sell or share the information. It’s just for fun. And the art of the card.

Click on the image below to share your mailing address with me.