Letters. That is the important thing.
I had it all planned out in late night inspiration. That I would try to do a creative thing each day of the week. Updating this would be one of them, such as it is.
But letters.
I wanted to write one every week. But doing so requires recipients possessing at least two of three qualities. First, a willingness to receive such a gesture, then an appreciation of the time it takes to do so, and/or the courtesy to respond in like kind.
It takes two parties for a letter to be a successful endeavor. I am fortunate to be acquainted with a few people fitting that criteria, and there are probably more if I had the courage to propose such a thing. For a while during school, I wrote letters to myself to read later. School was stressful at times, and I wanted an outlet to channel that frustrated creative energy into a medium where I could review it at a better time. They were personal in their insecurity and questioning as to what I was doing with my life if one of my main enjoyments was reading and occasionally commenting in notes my thoughts on them.
I was miffed at the notion that my college library was underutilized in proportion to its wondrously packed hallways of books. The most popular features of the university library were its computers and meeting rooms. So I set out to leave notes in certain books, as an experiment to see whether they circulated at all. I was delighted when about 8 months later, a person found my note in a Neil Gaiman graphic novel and told me that my note was appreciated.
It is the little things like that which can really make my day better. During New years, I watched a Demetri Martin special "If I" with a friend. I had seen it before, and I remembered enjoying it. (The entire program is available on Youtube). It is an autobiographical routine in which Martin explores his life through the lens of the different dictionary definitions of "If." He is too clever for himself at times and the audience sometimes needs a second or two to catch up. But the presenter is patient with them, allowing for pauses between his narration of habits and motivations which led him to where he is now. Martin loved brain puzzles as a child, then he made his own puzzles, then used everyday life as a puzzle, then himself as something to be solved. It is a progression into introspection and he admits of the dangers of treating life as an abstracted game.
My friend watching it didn't find it as funny as I did. He found it to be painfully true for where he is in his own life. And it is. I was laughing at the accuracy of his observations in application, but the internally-directed humor helps dampen the blows he takes. He doesn't blame the audience for not examining their lives better, but offers his life as a living example of the troubles he had when he did exactly that.
Little things add up. And getting a personal letter in the mail is delightful. It makes me very happy. But in order to get that feeling, I have to find someone else who also finds joy in that as well and is willing to reciprocate. I worry that I will run out of interesting things to say, but I shan't know if I don't make the attempt to exhaust whatever I have at the moment.
These days, I look forward to coming home and having a hot cup of tea. It is a seasonal habit for me in these cold days and gives me motivation to carry on during the duties of the day. It is a ritual, a closure, and a restorative all at once. What a wonderful little subculture it can be, though I know it is quite a public one elsewhere in the world, I can pretend it is a private indulgence for me alone.
Good night.
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