Someone Wants Me

After upwards of 400 job applications submitted from the East Coast to the West Coast and the No Coast in between, finally someone wants me.

It took until the interview process to realize how much I actually want/need a job. I mean, I knew I needed one, but it wasn’t until something actually seemed promising that I felt that drive again.

I’ve loved the jobs I’ve had. And I haven’t had many. I started at Goodwill when I was 16 and worked there for almost four years, then at a car dealership for almost four years, then at NP Dodge for a year. Then London for three months while I finished my masters, followed by a couple years of unemployment and self-employment.

When the Target opportunity came up, it reminded me of the NP Dodge opportunity. When I was desperately trying to get away from the car dealership, I saw an opening for an escrow officer at NP Dodge and had no idea what that word even meant. I knew I fit most of the requirements and I knew that I was a quick learner, so I went ahead and applied on a whim. Much to my surprise, I was called in for an interview. I remember exactly what I wore. I had a great time in the interview and was told that they had a few others to do, so I should hear at some point. I went home and took a nap and was woken from that nap with a phone call: a job offer.

I ended up absolutely loving escrow and real estate. And I really excelled at it. After a few months, I was promoted to a salaried position and had a junior officer working under me. Soon after that, I was handling all of the REOs and FSBOs. It really killed me to leave. I know I wrote about it in here somewhere. It really did. I should have gone back, actually, after finishing my masters. I was just so sure that I’d land the perfect job in social media somewhere in New York.

Until I didn’t. I had quick-links at the top of my browser for HBO jobs, BBC jobs, BBC America jobs, AMC jobs, NBC jobs, ABC jobs, Discovery jobs, Time Warner jobs; pretty much every major network. I was on LinkedIn for hours every day scrolling through page after page of social media manager jobs and the like. I realized quickly that with the SM manager positions, they required anywhere from 1-5 years of experience. I applied anyway, but it was just one meme after another.

I had limited myself to the coasts, so I started pulling in from each direction. Okay, no one in New York or California wants me, maybe something in Connecticut or Washington? Okay, no one there, so maybe Colorado or Chicago? On top of that, I had started applying for whatever job was available at the places I actually wanted to work (the networks). Got a receptionist job open? Okay, hire me. Someone needed in the mail room? I’ll do it. Finally, I was applying for the same thing in Omaha, wondering if I’d ever be able to do anything remotely like I had dreamed.

When I moved to Minnesota with Andrew, I started looking around at anything surrounding me to see what kind of jobs were available. Lo and behold, the same IT/nursing jobs that were in Omaha were up here, too. i.e. nothing for which I was qualified. I found some social media or otherwise media-related positions open, but either I didn’t have the experience (cue the memes) or I just didn’t get the job in the end.

I’m sure I’ve said it before, but just in case I haven’t: I know how extremely blessed and fortunate I am to having been able to support myself off of my savings/trust for so long whilst looking for a job. I wouldn’t have been able to do it, much like much else, without my grandparents having the foresight and ability to create such a thing. I think it also enabled me to not search as frantically, and it definitely allowed me to hold out for the right job. Even when I panicked and got anxiety about my dwindling savings, I knew I had at least another year, if I so needed. But then it’d be gone, and what would my grandparents say, if they could?

So in the midst of another mild panic attack regarding just that topic, I decided to see if there were any openings at this Target Express down the street. Yes, Target Express. Google it. It’s amazing. I’m obsessed with it. I’m possessive over it. I need one like, in my apartment. Anyway, there was a Team Lead position open. My first thought was, oh I don’t have any leadership experience – thinking, I’ve never had the title of ‘manager.’ But like the escrow officer situation, I did meet the other requirements, so I submitted an application.

Two days later, I got a call about coming in for an interview. That interview was life-changing, no joke. The woman I met with just totally turned my view around: I had loads of leadership experience, I had led many people and many situations. She told me to be confident in that. She even said that I was phenomenal. I can say with 100% certainty that I’ve never gotten that compliment in my life. I walked out of that interview with my head held so high. And I actually had hope again. I didn’t even realize just how hopeless I’d become until she gave some hope back to me. I doubt very much I’ll ever have an interview quite like that again.

After that, I interviewed with that woman’s mentor, who has been with Target for as long as I’ve been on Earth. Then I got to move on to the next one, and the next one, and suddenly, I’m at the First Ever Target to make sure I will be a good fit. When the store leader of THE Target said she’d love to have me as part of her team, I legit got choked up right there in her office. Someone actually wants me. Someone actually sees value in me. Someone thinks I’d be a good addition to their team, their company. It had been so long.

I walked straight out onto the sales floor and bought a few pairs of khakis and a few red shirts.

My goal is to not only sail through training and rise in the ranks, but to hopefully express just how thankful and honored I truly am for this opportunity. I know I expressed in each interview just how much of a Target fangirl I am, but I mean, I’m actually sitting here in tears just writing this up.

Who knows what this opportunity has in store for me. And Andrew. And for us. I mean, this is going to help us with our goal to find a house in another year or so. This is going to save us so much money on groceries and everything else we need. Personally, this is going to give me something to do. Something to get me out of the house. Something to feel like I’m part of the human race again. I have worth again. I can get rid of the guilt I’ve felt for depleting my trust. Hell, I can better serve the purposes of Far From Everything Films. Just.. so many good things.

Oh, one of my favorite parts: I had forgotten to take my lip ring out when I was meeting with HR, so I apologized for it. She said, “so what? You can wear that here.”

I have half of my head shaved, gauged ears, and a lip piercing, and all of that is okay. (Here come the tears again). Seriously, it’s never been okay. I had to ask/beg permission to put blue in my hair while I was at Goodwill. I got written up at Woodhouse for forgetting to take out my lip piercing. The head on the stud was stuck and I couldn’t get it off without greasy pliers from the service department, cutting up my lip in the process. I couldn’t wear it at NP Dodge either. Nor do I remember having any sort of wild hair along the way.

Now it’s okay. Now I’m okay just as I am. Not like these things make me who I am, but they are part of me. And they’re okay. What a relief.

This whole situation is such a relief. Finally, someone wants me. Target wants me. And Target wants me for me.

 


 

Speaking of someone wanting me, I’m also blessed to have a partner who wants me, and wants me for me. In spite of the fact that I worry too much and I’m a shit and I’m petty and I hardly ever put any effort into my appearance (subject to change with impending job) and I never help with the dishes and leave hair in the shower and otherwise leave the house a mess and whine when he stays at work late and whine just a lot of the time, probably, and make the occasional comment about wanting a ring and a baby and a house and an additional dog (or four) and all these other things, he seems to love me and even like me.

I’d quote a bunch of Sara Bareilles lyrics now, but I’ve already wept enough during this post.

21 Jan to 31 Jan

Now that I’ve got the exciting stuff out of the way, I can continue on these daily prompts. I have a feeling I won’t be caught up til summer, but I’m gonna give it a go.

January 21st – Sweet sixteen:
When you were 16, what did you think your life would look like? Does it look like that? Is it a good thing?
I honestly don’t remember what I thought my life would look like when I was sixteen. I could go back and read through my journals to see what I actually thought, but I don’t remember really thinking too far into the future at that age. I’m sure I didn’t picture myself traveling so much or being jobless. Not that I can really complain.

January 22nd – I got skills:
If you could choose to be a master of any skill in the world, which skill would you pick?
Oh my God. This is like asking favorites. There’s a shitload of shit I’d love to be a master of. A lot of the skills I wish I had mastered would be used as party tricks – have an amazing singing voice for karaoke, be able to play anything on piano to show off whenever there’s a piano around, be super flexible for dance or gymnastics for no reason. Any skill in the world… I’m really not sure. I’ve kind of always wanted to be an actor. Just because I love to tell stories and watch peoples’ reactions. Maybe a good one would be being able to make decisions when prompted.

January 23rd – Shipwrecked:
Read the story of Richard Parker and Tom Dudley. Is what Dudley did defensible? What would you have done?
Well, for the sake of summary. The story is that these four guys were forced to abandon ship mid-ocean and take off in this rickety lifeboat. After however many days with no food, they kind of discussed the fact that they’d probably have to kill one of the four in the boat so that they could survive. Parker, the 17 year old, apparently got sick and was likely going to die, as pointed out by another Dudley. The next day, Dudley and Stephens nodded to each other without consulting with Brooks, the other guy, and while Stephens held Parker down, Dudley killed him. They ate the kid and were later rescued. 
Is what Dudley did defensible? It’s obviously impossible to say what any of us would do in that situation unless we’ve been in the situation. The human instinct and drive to survive will likely overpower moral in a situation like that. The kid was already sick and likely about to die – once he died, his blood would not be healthy to eat (or so they believed). He was heading toward his natural death, and they sped up the process. They didn’t know when they would be rescued, if at all. There’s always that one person in the situation who is ‘strong’ enough to take the lead and make horrible decisions for the benefit of the others. Dudley did that. While he couldn’t save everyone, he did save three out of four. Still, it’s hard to justify such a thing – it was murder after all. There had to be another option.
What would I have done? I have absolutely no idea. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have killed anyone to save the rest of us, but like I said, how do any of us know for sure? 

January 24th – Ready, set, go:
Set a timer for ten minutes. Open a new post. Start the timer, and start writing. When the timer goes off, publish.
Well, since I’m combining prompts, I’ll just move on to the next prompt when the timer goes off. Readyyyyyy, go.
-> What to talk about. I guess the next exciting thing coming up is that I’m going to Nashville to see my friend Steph. We met at the University of Evansville our freshman year of college. Neither of us knew anyone and we were actually slotted to room with other people. My roommate called me the day we moved in and said she wouldn’t be there, and Steph was roomed with this super blonde gal. And when I say super blonde, I mean like, white blonde, if I remember correctly. Then again, who knows. Anyway, I was very happy being alone in my room for the most part, but then the university contacted me and said that unless I find a roommate, I’d have to pay double for the room. Which is total bullshit. Steph didn’t like her roommate, though, and she was just down the hall a couple doors, so she moved in with me just before semester. We had a hell of a time. We both hated the school and most of the people there. We spent a lot of time at the gym, or when she got her car, we spent a lot of time just anywhere but campus. She came up a few years ago for a Husker game, but we haven’t seen each other since.
Nashville is hosting a color run at the end of the month, so she invited me down for that. Then the whole arrest happened, and the prelim hearing is now slated for, I think, the day before the color run. Dad told me to just go ahead and go, but I wouldn’t do that. I know he’s just trying not to disrupt my life. I’m still going to go to Nashville, but I’ll just go after the hearing. I should be able to leave the same day, depending on what time it is, but I think I’ll miss the color run. I’m disappointed about that because I’ve never done one. I’m not in any shape for one, thanks to being lazy and then being made even more lazy by the accident (my God, my life is super exciting). Oh well, I guess. Perhaps there’s a reason I’m meant to go down to Nashville a few days later.
Once I come back from Nashville, I’ll have to do some laundry and then repack for a week-two weeks in Australia. My friends Jen and Janine, who I met in London last summer, live there and have invited me. I’ve always wanted to go to Australia. It just so happens, also, that there’s a Comicon there. So I’ll get to see Sydney, some heroes, some nerds, and some friends. At first, I was apprehensive about going. I’m still, regrettably and admittedly, iffy about international travel after the whole London thing. I wasted so much time and money and was so absolutely heartbroken and I don’t want to go through that again. I know the whys and hows of the denial into the UK, but now getting turned away at any border is a fear of mine. I’m sure I’d be fine going to Australia because it’d be the first time I was there, I’d have tickets to the con, I’d be staying with friends, and I’d obviously have my return ticket already and all of that. But this time, should I bring a copy of my bank statement? My lease? My car title? I mean, should I say I work for my dad so that it looks like I have a job to go back to? Should I say I’m in the process of buying a house? What should I do? Last time, I thought I was prepared and I told the truth and look where that got me. I hate that it changed me. I was so carefree before. 

January 25th – Dearly departed:
Write your own eulogy.
Funnily enough, I already have. Molded 100% off of Dean’s eulogy for Jonathan in Serendipity.
“Christina Friis, prominent media psychologist for the BBC, died last night from complications of losing her music. She was 26 years old. Soft-spoken, yet outspoken, Friis never looked the part of a hopeless romantic. But, in the final days of her life, she revealed an unknown side of her psyche. This hidden persona surfaced during the five-alarm pursuit of her extensive music catalogue, music she’d only collected her entire life. Sadly, the protracted search ended late Saturday night in complete and utter failure. Yet, even in certain defeat, the optimistic Friis secretly clung to the belief that life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences. But rather, is a film reel of events the culminate in an exquisite, awesome plan. Asked about the loss of their finest colleague and friend, the BBC stable of actors described Friis as a changed woman in the last days of her life. ‘Things were clearer for her,’ they noted. Ultimately, Christina concluded that if we are to live life in harmony with the universe, we must all possess a powerful faith in lyricism and rhythm.”

January 26th – Musical:
What role does music play in your life?
I swear I didn’t read on before I did the last one, but it’s fitting, isn’t it? Music clearly plays a most important role in my life, since it could kill me if I were to lose it. It’s simple, really: I was brought up on music. It enhances my happiness and eases my sadness, it puts into words what I cannot and takes away my words when they’re not needed. I feel it everywhere – there are bits of music that make my chest flutter and ripple outward to my arms and legs. In short, nothing makes me feel the way music does.

January 27th – Sliced bread:
Most of us have heard the saying, ‘that’s the best thing since sliced bread!’ What do you think is actually the best thing since sliced bread?
I’d say social media. I know it’s not technically a ‘thing’, but it lets us talk to people we’d never normally get to talk to, it lets us express feelings we might never normally get to express, it lets us do all sorts of shit. Sure, there are drawbacks, but there are drawbacks to sliced bread, too. I mean, it probably expires more quickly than non-sliced bread.. or.. it can get squished easily.

January 28th – Ode to a playground:
A place from your past or childhood, one that you’re fond of, is destroyed. Write a memorial.
Oh, God, I could so easily do the house in which I grew up, but I really don’t feel like crying tonight. Um, I’ll just stick with playground since that’s the title. 
“The Ponca Elementary School playground. When I think back to elementary school, I think of recess. I think of running across the cement to the twisty, yellow slide. All of us. Climbing up the ladder to the top and designating one person to be the first one. Someone strong. That person would be the foundation for the rest of us. Once we were all piled up on the slide, the foundation would start to slip, and we’d all come crashing down to the gravel. Over and over again. Or a few of us girls would climb on top of the monkey bars to chat. Or we’d take turns running across the unstable, wooden bridge and jump off the other end. Or we’d go back to the cement that we ignored in the beginning and we’d kick soccer balls back and forth to each other. Whoever got a ball past the end of the cement would score a point. Whoever kicked a ball too forcefully and made it over the fence would have to run across the street and stop it from rolling away into oblivion. We never kept score. We never fought. We played. Always played. Now it’s gone. All of it is gone. It lies in ruin. It became unsafe. It became about worry, it became about fear. It wasn’t what it used to be. Our memories may have faded, much like the yellow of the slide, but they’ll always be in the recess of our minds.”

January 29th – Through the window:
Go to the nearest window. Look out for a full minute. Write about what you saw.
I’m going to treat this like my film class and just take quick notes while I stare into the darkness: Immediately in front of me are the bars on my balcony. The support beam blocks a bit of my view, but then again, it’s pitch black out. I can see light reflecting in the ice of the little pond just down the hill. Beyond that, I can see the source of the light – streetlamps outside the adjacent apartment building. I can see the lights on in the stairwells, but everyone seems to be asleep or at least has their bedroom lights off. One of the streetlamps just went out. There are cars in the parking lot – two white ones stick out among the dark ones. There are some lights behind the apartment building – they look like streetlamps, also. Again, it’s pitch black, so there’s really not a whole lot to be seen. I’m going to call that a minute.

January 30th – Burning down the house:
Your home is on fire. Grab five items (assume all people and animals are safe). What did you grab?
Can we also assume that I’ve got my phone on me already? Because I leave the house with it at all times anyway. Okay, yeah, let’s do that. I’d grab my external harddrive since that has all of my music and photos on there from both computers. I’d – oh my God. This is difficult as fuck. Um… This is the problem with worldly possessions. I mean, obviously, I wouldn’t grab my DVDs or whatever. I’d grab my laptop, I guess. That’s two things, right? I think most of my important shit is in a tub in my garage, which is nowhere near my ‘house’, so that shit should be fine. Maybe I should take my file drawer since that will have my tax returns and other documents. That’s three. Luckily, it’s fairly warm outside, so I wouldn’t need a coat. Can we also assume car keys are a given? Really, purse is a given. Still need two things. I guess, in a way, it’s good that it’s difficult to decide because out of all the crap I actual have, 99% could be replaced. OH, here’s four: my box of journals. Def can’t replace those. Also, it goes without saying that in the event of a fire, the adrenaline would make me strong enough to carry these things in one go. Still need number five. My degrees? Maybe. Oh, darn, I have two of them. Actually, fuck both of them: I’ll make number five my grandpa’s diploma

January 31st – Burnt:
Remember yesterday, when your home was on fire and you got to save five items? That means you left a lot of stuff behind. What are the things you wish you could have taken, but had to leave behind?
Well, honestly, the obvious answer is just about everything. It would save me money (although I do have insurance) and it would save me time trying to replace all of it. I have such a hodgepodge of different artifacts and I’d never remember everything. Makes me anxious to think about it. 

 

Hey! I’m done with January! I think when I started, I was 52 days behind. Now I’m 39 days behind. Not bad. February 1st already looks annoying. 

I Send It with a Prayer

I just applied for a job at the BBC in London. I’ve been more or less avoiding applying for any jobs in the lovely city because I wonder if it’s worth it. The thought of even visiting London again after what happened [see: https://friisey.com/2013/11/21/two-days-in-nowhere/] makes me simultaneously anxious and dispirited. It would be so much simpler if I never wanted to go back. If I didn’t particularly care for the city or her people or the feel of her.

But I do want to go back. I do care for her, deeply.

So, it’s frightening. To think about trying to go back. And to think about not being able. Or at least not without much difficulty. During my job-search, I had only allowed myself to apply for jobs at BBC America (among other television/film production companies here in the States). It would just be easier that way. Then again, nothing worth having is ever easy.

My friend Sophie is actually who told me about the job – social media co-ordinator. I would have seen it on Tumblr eventually, since I follow BBC One, but something makes me wonder if I’d have had the nerve to apply if I’d just seen it in passing. Actually, I’m rather nervous having submitted to the job. And yet… something makes me wonder. Perhaps I was meant to apply today. Whatever the outcome… whatever the outcome.

Clearly, I’m at a loss. I’m currently struggling to hold back tears, to be honest. I don’t know, I don’t know. Things to do with London, as my passions tend to do, make me emotional. So with a prayer, I send my application. With the application, I send my sincerity.

(My heavens, I’m gushy. But, as Mindy Kaling said: “I’m the kind of person who would rather get my hopes up really high and watch them get dashed to pieces than wisely keep my expectations at bay and hope they are exceeded. This quality has made me a needy and theatrical friend, but has given me a spectacularly dramatic emotional life.”)

The World of Over-share

Alright, I have been thinking about social media a lot lately, thanks to my master’s program in media psychology, and I think I’ve made it clear that I’m a bit of a BBC’s Sherlock fan. If not, don’t get me started. Anyway, I am also a fan of the most recent Star Trek film by JJ Abrams and cannot wait for the one about to be released.

Here’s the problem:

I got into Sherlock after the first two seasons had already been filmed, shown on tv, and put on Netflix; which was awesome, because then I could watch them boom-boom-boom one after another. As soon as a third season was confirmed by the creators, all hell broke loose. I had found Tumblr and was on Instagram and Twitter, and I hadn’t seen such crazies* since my days as an NSync fan. (*I say ‘crazies’ totally lovingly as I am one of them.) Let’s just say, thank God for the hashtag “spoiler” because otherwise I would know way too much. I like surprises, I really do. I like going into a movie having not already researched every nook and cranny and found out who plays who. It’s supposed to be an escape, not familiarity at that point. Not everyone shares my stance. It’s been a challenge to navigate Instagram and Twitter for months now because of everyone posting filming locations or photos of characters that should have died in the last series, but here they are on set again, or what have you.

Then there’s Star Trek: Into Darkness. I can’t frickin’ wait to see this movie. I am not a Star Trek fan in the least, I know nothing about Star Trek, but I do know that I loved JJ’s first Star Trek and I’m going to love this one, also. My love for the film might also revolve (a bit) around the fact that *Benedict Cumberbatch is playing the baddie. (*Gosh, what else does he star in, I just can’t put my finger on it…) However, there is a mysterious quality in this film that JJ and Benedict have fought so hard to maintain. Who does Benedict play? Is it Kahn? Is it John Harrison? Neither will say. I wish I could find the quote, but I read an interview with Benedict where he went on about why he won’t say who he is playing. It was something along the lines of, there isn’t any mystery in going to the movies anymore because all of the information is released up front or in the trailers and then people go into the movie knowing exactly who plays who or why this particular event is happening, and I am [he is] going to try to uphold as much secrecy as I [he] can. I love that. It’s true.

With social media being about spreading as much info to as many people as quickly as possible, and the people spreading the info just want to be the ones to do it, I don’t wager many people stop and think about exactly what they’re doing. Would you really want to be the one who outed Benedict’s character as really _______? The mystique, the intrigue, some of the glory would be lost.

Don’t people want to be surprised anymore? I think the thirst for knowledge can be a bit detrimental in these cases. It’s like the faith is gone. I don’t want to get to season three of Sherlock and know how Sherlock pulled off his fake suicide in The Reichenbach Fall because some yabo tweets about it before I get to see it for myself. I don’t want to walk into Star Trek: Into Darkness and know that Benedict is actually playing _______, and not be able to participate in the collective sharp intake of breath with the rest of the audience upon his reveal. 

That’s another thing I love about JJ and the creators of Sherlock (Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat) – in the latest STiD trailer, Benedict’s character is shown on some little screen with a tracking device and the name that pops up in front of him for a split second is “John Harrison.” That wasn’t a mistake, that was a mislead from JJ. I am sure of it. Same with Gatiss/Moffat – I follow Mark Gatiss on Twitter and he posted a spoiler-esque picture along with a cryptic sort of message saying that not everything being posted about filming is real/going to be used, and it’s mostly to throw people off. He did the same thing when he released the three word clues for this season*. He tweeted three words that had nothing to do with anything and then later released the ‘actual’ three words. (*For each series now, he has released three words that are supposed to be clues as to what Sir Arthur Conan Doyle stories they are going to use. For example, for last season, he said “Woman. Hound. Fall.” which referred to the episodes A Scandal in Belgravia – “The Woman” Irene Adler as the main character, Hounds of Baskerville, and The Reichenbach Fall. For series three, he first said “Pipe. Slippers. Bed.” and then later released the real clues, “Rat. Wedding. Bow.”)

Thank God for writers/directors such as JJ, Mark, and Steven for their creative integrity and keeping mystery as alive as it can be in this world of over-share.

Speaking of, this reminds me of how Alfred Hitchcock approached the release of Psycho. He sent letters to the theatres with explicit instructions on how to keep the ending a complete secret – locking doors, keeping guards, only using certain posters, signing waivers as not to reveal spoilers, etc. Even back then, without social media, he was readily aware of the spread of information ruining the mystique of his film. He wanted to hear the true screams when… you know, I don’t know if any of you have NOT seen this film. I’d hate to ruin it.

Modern Sherlock is Modern

So I’m a huge Sherlock fan – the show on BBC (and sometimes PBS).

What’s great about it is that it holds the integrity of Conan Doyle. They were timely when they were written, so why shouldn’t they be timely now? The films with RDJr are great – but of course set back in that Victorian time. The Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat BBC creation is set today, but with the same stories.

Just a few changes of course – instead of letters, Sherlock gets texts; instead of journaling, Watson blogs.

I really enjoy this interview with the geniuses behind the show:
http://www.denofgeek.us/tv/sherlock/20536/steven-moffat-and-mark-gatiss-interview-sherlock

Shrinking Vocabulary thx 2 txtn?

Having a chat with a coworker today about the differences between American vocabulary and English vocabulary, when we gradually got on the topic of the shrinking vocabulary. With social media and texting, emailing, etc, we feel like we tend to stick to the same words most of the time. When we’re only allowed 160 characters, it’s difficult to eloquently express yourself. Does that carry over into spoken conversation?

Personally, I have always been one to instant message, text, and email with full words (as opposed to abbr.) and punctuation. I don’t care how long the text is (my friends call them “novels”), I’ll be goddamned if I don’t use the correct spelling/grammar/punctuation. That being said, I’m not a grammar expert. More of a nerd.

Anyway, we’re a society of shortcuts and it’s apparent in social media/texting. Think about how easy it is to text and type (for most). Back in the day, people had to put a quill in ink and then to paper, about every couple words, and they’d write pages to send by post. If Jane Austen is any indication, people took time and effort to express themselves. Mr Darcy wouldn’t have written to Elizabeth, “hey, gurl, I ❤ u, ttyl.”

Then again, that was how they had to communicate – by letter, which took a long time to be delivered, so it better be worthwhile.

I guess our laziness comes with accessibility.

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