Face To Face Contact Deteriorating

            I hate facebook. I hate text messaging. And oh how I hate instant messaging and emailing.

            But hypocritically enough, I use all. I text message my friends when I could simply call them. I’m facebook friends (what a ridiculous term) with people I hardly know. And I talk online. A lot. Sometimes for an hour or two at a time.

            Life is short. Time we spend with those we care for should be cherished, so why do we waste it with typing instead of speaking?

            Because it makes life easier. My grandmother and I have a long distance relationship, so we resort to emailing each other. At work recently, I saw that I had voicemail on my phone, so thinking it was from a friend I went upstairs to the storage room to listen to it (I’m aware that makes me seem a bit weird). Instead, I heard a message from my grandma asking how I was and making sure everything was okay. Just hearing her quiet, southern voice made me break out in a smile. And I can honestly say that I’ve never smiled that much from a simple email.

Or take a guy I work with. I was absolutely head over heels (I know, total cliché) for him for the longest time. We always talked at work, and slowly we began talking online, for an hour or two at a time. Wait, correction: we typed for an hour or two at a time. We didn’t actually speak.

            And as much as I enjoyed just talking (or typing) to him online, I would have enjoyed it so much more if it were in person or even on the phone. I couldn’t see him smile, hear the inflection in his voice, see his eyes squint when he laughs or detect his witty sarcasm online.

            After I spent six weeks in Mexico last summer without a phone or internet, most people would think I was in withdrawal. However, it was quite the opposite. My only connection to those back home was through letters and those were possibly six of the best weeks of my life. The anticipation of receiving letters from friends and family was much more satisfying and rewarding than waiting for a friend to respond to a text message of mine.

Reading that the guy I work with is attracted to me while sitting on an uncomfortable rolling chair in my bedroom just doesn’t have the same impact as hearing him say it. Listening to my grandma proudly describe her latest quilt on the phone has a much greater effect than reading the words she types about her artwork in an email. And reading a descriptive letter my mom wrote me in Mexico about the annual hot dog eating contest on the fourth of July made my summer even more entertaining.

            So as hard as it may be, I’m going to try. Try to call my friends instead of text messaging them back and forth 25 times. Try to eat dinner or see a movie with people I consider friends, but have only talked to online. And try not to go on Facebook, as hard as it may be.

            Because 20 years from now, I don’t want to remember the “Hey what’s up? N2M, u?” conversations I had online, but rather the times I laughed uncontrollably at something a friend of mine said, or smiled for five minutes straight just because I heard my grandma’s voice.