I write letters. Old-fashioned, hand-written letters. They end up long, confusing, and almost always in purple ink. I don’t like writing in pencil, you can erase truths you aren’t ready to say. When writing in pen, you can’t erase the truths you didn’t want out quite yet, you can just scratch and scribble. And purple is just kind of my trademark letter color.
I send them USPS, snail mail. The wait is indescribable, especially if you know you’re getting something back. The constant anticipation, it feels like something is coming, a simple joy of life.
People ask why I don’t use e-mail. It’s faster, cheaper, more convenient. It’s also much less personal. Half the joy of a hand-written letter is knowing that the person who wrote it cared enough to take the time to write it out, and to spend the 44 cents on a stamp. Anyone can write an e-mail in the style you would, hack into your e-mail box, and send it. Very few people can copy your handwriting, and your signature.
I think that’s it. I love writing letters, to the point I have one at the moment that is currently 10 pages long and not done yet. It’s after midnight where I am, so it’s technically Wednesday, so my day to post. No one can yell at me all day for not posting until late evening. Sorry it’s short. I’m tired and there’s not much else to say about letters.