You can’t get on a plane or buy something significant any more without someone asking you to offset your carbon footprint. Well, that’s probably not entirely true; I imagine that from Kigali, where that’s not really an issue, but I read about this offsetting a lot.
I would like to offset my digital footprint. I’m not talking about conflict minerals or child labor or other rights abuses, although God knows all that probably went into the Mac I’m typing on. At the moment, I’m just talking about the sheer number of emails involved in my life.
I had to go through a massive email organization project recently, because I simply wasn’t able to keep track of important emails. Doing this showed me that I’ve received more than 500 personal emails — not listserves, not Google alerts — in three weeks. One would have to assume I’m sending nearly as many to get so many…
I’ve always loved the promise of the epistle. As a kid I used to sprint for the mailbox when I heard the postman drive by, although there was rarely something there for me. And if there wasn’t, I’d read whatever was — coupons, newsletters, credit card offers to my 12-year-old sister (oh, ’90s, you were the days!). I lived a very fulfilling analog version of all the time I now waste on the Internet.
And I find the latter far less fulfilling. Maybe because the expectations are so high? The Internet promises not just immediate communication, but constant meaningful communication. Every time you sit down you expect to be seen, heard, and wowed, to affirm and be affirmed in nanoseconds. But 500 emails? I don’t know what they all said…and thanks to the archive function on Google, I never need to know (until I do, and then I can search for them. God bless you Google, master of our universes). I’m pretty sure I spent a lot more time staring at this bright-shiny box feeling lonely than I did feeling connected. Meanwhile, I had shit to do.
All of this is to say, I’m going on vacation. I haven’t had a real vacation in years, and my sister is coming to visit. She managed those credit card offers far better than I did, and she can afford to come to Africa for two weeks just to hang out with me. We’re going to wander the whole of amazing, beautiful Rwanda, or as much of it as we can, and soak up place and sound and smell. We’re jumping into wonder out here. And we’re not going to go digital about it. Retro is the new radical.
In my stead, I offer you this compelling essay about friendship in America. It’s a nice meditation on what real friendship is — which might help explain us Americans to our baffled African friends — and why we Americans seem to have so little real friendship in our lives these days. (Hint: What’s your digital footprint?)
