Lost Skills & Dead Blogs

This is my attempt to get back into any sort of journaling or writing. 

M and I were chatting yesterday in our usual Thursday night video call.

For context, M and I lost touch in the years after we graduated from college. I was burrowed in notes at medical school in New Orleans, while she was in DC scampering after her golden retriever puppy. Around the time that the craze and uncertainty of the pandemic began to peter out, we reconnected. She was now in Seattle, while I was back in California. We finally saw each other in person in October 2023, at a wedding in San Francisco. She asked me if I had ever watched a Chinese drama called "Eternal Love." She then proceeded to dovetail into a ten-minute exaltation about how great it was, which led me to say the fateful words: "You're going to have to watch it with me, because otherwise I am never going to do it."

Since then, we've managed to stick to a near-weekly schedule for almost a year. I've never maintained a long-distance relationship with quite this success, but I suppose it helps to have 8PM on Thursdays physically blocked off on your calendar. Sometimes we watch an episode of Eternal Love, but most of the time, we just end up chatting. The fact that we are on Episode 52 out of 58 should tell you how we've fared. The pleasant bonus to all this is that we now text nearly daily and are extremely up-to-date on each other's lives. 

Going back to last night, we were talking about Daisy, who is currently riding high on the early fumes of an all-consuming romance. I won't betray the details of how pathetically invested we--two old ladies in long-term commitments--have been in regards to their dear friend's unfolding Hallmark movie. But this led to us to reflect on dear friend's romantic history and realizing that neither of us remembered the details of what led to the demise of her last relationship.

I searched Daisy's name in my Gmail account and uncovered a series of e-mail threads that had been completely obliterated from my memory. These were surprisingly quite long e-mails--multiple paragraphs, back-and-forth replies--and I was also shocked by how much deliberation went into what I wrote. There was a certain rhythm to the syntax that I would never even consider for a second when typing up a text.

Here is a snippet from one of my e-mail replies:

 Daisy, 

You've shared a lot with me in the past few weeks, and I feel rather honored that you've opened up so much about this to me. I think, in return, I'll tell you a little bit about what I've gotten out of this whole experience. 

You scoffed at me once when I referred to Jay as your first love. As much as you want to deny it, that's how I will always see it. Some people describe that first love as raw, intense, all-encompassing--and the pain that it leaves behind can be just as consuming. I wasn't physically around for the duration of your relationship, so only you can judge the first part of that statement. But the aftermath of your break-up and the blow it dealt to you is enough to convince me of the latter. 

You once wrote that the six months have changed you. In those six months, I saw a side of you that I didn't know could exist. The break-up consumed you. When we weren't talking about music recommendations or my own drama, everything led back to Jay. Why you couldn't listen to The xx anymore, why that asshole still hadn't returned your things, why you were so much better without him, etc. I didn't mind, obviously--because you know me, I don't mind listening. But I was surprised by the sheer amount of emotional outpouring coming from you--you, who never displayed this sort of emotional chaos in college. By February, when you told me that you'd seen a therapist and you were meeting Jay for the first time, you started documenting your wild mood swings about Jay to me on a daily basis......

I will spare you the rest. But it kind of rattled my brain to see that I used to communicate with a friend in this manner. And this wasn't the only e-mail thread; I used to have sprawling threads with several other friends.

We don't talk like this anymore. Sure, people will still write personal newsletters and maybe write posts on places like Substack or Patreon. But there was a time in my youth when everyone at school was blogging on Livejournal or Xanga. The act of writing in long-form requires reflection; in the act of formulating your words, you need to unspool and examine the chaotic threads swarming in your head. I'm open to listening to dissenting opinions, but I don't believe posting photos or editing videos on Instagram or Tiktok involves this degree of reflection. 

Which led to the question that M and I discussed. Are we even capable of this anymore? I used to be an avid blogger. I've tried to switch over to physical journaling countless times and have left the carcasses of barely scribbled notebooks in my wake. 

Here's to seeing how this goes.