Letters, a dying art
While I was unpacking my stuff, I found a few letters written to me from my grandfather, who is no longer with us. In one of them, he wrote of his appreciation of my thank you letter I wrote in 1993, probably in reference to a Christmas or birthday gift. He called my note a 'dying art.' I found it interesting. In response to my graduation presents, I wrote thank you letters to everyone. There is a pile of letters sitting on the table in desperate need of stamps. My arm hurts now from all the writing (although I'm sure my self-therapy is also a factor). Also, I'm a bit annoyed at myself because I found some beautiful rose pattern stationary that I've been using, but I didn't realize that I had only (like) 15 sheets of the rose pattern, and the bulk of it was plain stationary--peach color like the other sheets, but still plain. I didn't see that. I should have used the patterned stationary, and then the plain as page number two. Oops. Oh well, yet I am a little *irked* at that.
Over the past several years I have not kept up with my letter writing. I haven't sent out Christmas cards in at least two years. Christmas comes (or at this point 'came') around right after finals. I was too busy, focused, and absentminded during those times to write them, and too burned out and exhausted afterwards. Shopping for presents was a nightmare, being it was a week before Christmas. And writing thank you letters. . . I won't go into that.
But as I reflect on it (while the vicoden starts to settle in) I remember how much I used to love letter writing, and getting letters in the mail. I even used to get compliments from the adults (family members and friends) on my writing, which encouraged me to keep at it and consider, at age 13, to pursue English/writing as a career. And now I have a huge box of all the letters I wrote to friends over the years. I've decided that I'm going to try to promote and keep up with my snail mail again.
I think that with all the time that I have spent hibernating, thinking too much in my solitude, as well as going through my entire past as I unpack from the move, has made me sentimental. As I was sorting through all the mail and cards I've gotten, I was amazed at how many people kept in touch with me, but that eventually over time, I just lost touch with some people. It's odd (and kind of sad) that life,a nd everything it violently throws at you, that such things happen. . .
Oh, and I am SO happy that I can finally type with both hands. I am frantically trying to make up for lost time over here.
Over the past several years I have not kept up with my letter writing. I haven't sent out Christmas cards in at least two years. Christmas comes (or at this point 'came') around right after finals. I was too busy, focused, and absentminded during those times to write them, and too burned out and exhausted afterwards. Shopping for presents was a nightmare, being it was a week before Christmas. And writing thank you letters. . . I won't go into that.
But as I reflect on it (while the vicoden starts to settle in) I remember how much I used to love letter writing, and getting letters in the mail. I even used to get compliments from the adults (family members and friends) on my writing, which encouraged me to keep at it and consider, at age 13, to pursue English/writing as a career. And now I have a huge box of all the letters I wrote to friends over the years. I've decided that I'm going to try to promote and keep up with my snail mail again.
I think that with all the time that I have spent hibernating, thinking too much in my solitude, as well as going through my entire past as I unpack from the move, has made me sentimental. As I was sorting through all the mail and cards I've gotten, I was amazed at how many people kept in touch with me, but that eventually over time, I just lost touch with some people. It's odd (and kind of sad) that life,a nd everything it violently throws at you, that such things happen. . .
Oh, and I am SO happy that I can finally type with both hands. I am frantically trying to make up for lost time over here.