I remember when I anticipated email. When email emerged and AIM was the height of instant messaging, I used to love reading the new and various messages I got. These days, I now look with contempt at my email boxes. That’s right. I’ve got two. I kept one from my internet heyday—when AOL had upwards of 35 million subscribers, and those subscribers were people who actually maintained a real, authentic online presence. Then, there’s my Gmail account that holds the most deliberating messages, because I had to join Team Android.
Presently, I hate email because I’m always bombarded with fawning bequests for my attention. Because I’ve recently obtained an English degree, I get these opaque, schmaltzy love letters from graduate schools desperate for me to spend more money. And while I mull over that, I’m expected to nurse a plethora of social dings and dents from friends and family who have complained or trumpeted their viewpoints on some wall, that’s actually a collection of expressions that I may or may not care about.
Ultimately, email has become the trash-bin of feelings that are disguised as “marketing”. Companies demand American consumer attention so gratuitously that the line between what consumers actually want and what businesses desire is not actually there. Their feelings are superimposed over the facts of your bank account. If we look at the present politics of American government, we can see how feelings outnumbered the facts, and voters were tricked into a steaming mass of feelings that they thought they had.
Feelings, numerous as the messages in an overcrowded email box, are cluttered if they aren’t filtered and later dismissed by a exhaustive mix of common sense and hypothetical purpose. If the function of a message is eventually lost, users end up with a stream of data and no distinction with which to use that data. Yes, Facebook uses my data. And Instagram might do so too. But, my emotions aren’t always indicative of all my facts. One of my English teachers, remarked that truth is never partial, it either is or isn’t.
Feelings are like email. They change from moment to moment and day to day. So how do you separate your email? Maybe you understand that email—just like everything on the internet—is designed for a skill called, PLANNED abandonment.
Feelings like email don’t have to stress you out if you make a decision to take what you need and walk away from the rest. Because like feelings, email will be there… long after you’ve deleted the last message.
People will court your feelings, and if you are not invested in questioning what factors determined what you felt… you will end up as clogged as that email box, never empty and never without “DATA”. Data has no motive other than to be used by people to make executives money. I’m sure people are probably gonna make money from this.
There will always be a campaign to join and a notification to see, but the time you have to acknowledge these infinitives isn’t infinite. Plan to leave well-enough right where it is, because time in the human realm is very limited. Now, let me go delete more empty threats before I lose my nerve.