The lost art of the personal email

I was doing an inbox search and found a friend’s email from 2005. Several paragraphs long, it was a description of her life with her girlfriend in Tokyo where they taught English to Japanese students.

In her letter, she went into detail from the size of their bedroom to the taste of the iced tea she liked to drink. She described their favorite students one by one, and then discussed how she felt about her job, her new city, and her relationship.

When I read it at that time, I didn’t think there was anything odd about that letter. It was an ordinary letter similar to the snail mail letters we used send to and receive from friends who were far away.

But now that it’s 2015 and our email inboxes contain not much more than work emails, online purchases and spam, a long eventful email such as that one from ten years ago stands out, because nobody writes personal emails anymore.

No more personal letters

Go check your inbox and see when the last time was that you got a long personal email. These days any messages from friends come by way of text or Facebook direct message. They are short, full of stickers and emojis, and usually await the recipient’s reply or reaction before proceeding to the next paragraph. 

Sentence construction is not a priority in direct messages and chats. One does not identify an objective in chatting nor follow an outline of discussion in this medium.  Often it’s just two people catching up, engaging each other or getting bored before one or both drop off for another activity without any conclusion to their communication.

I used to spend hours typing up long responses via email talking about my current state, an anecdote from the past, and wishes for the future. 

I minded my grammar and spelling, and never abbreviated as these letters were never typed or read on a mobile device. More often than not, I brought handwritten drafts to type in the internet cafe, cursing aloud when a long letter typed in a browser didn’t go through, the browser or computer crashed, or worse – the power went out.

There were periods of silence between emails as internet access was only through desktop machines connected by wire to dial-up modems. There was a certain sound it made that made my heart beat faster at the prospect of another world waiting.  Between these connections, sentiments of happiness and sadness were saved, steeped, composed, and when it was finally possible – sent.

The writer of the long email then took a risk. The recipient was a captive audience who had no choice but to read and wallow in the email, or not at all. We carried what we wrote and read for weeks at a time until a reply was received or a situation was resolved. If it called for a longer real-time discussion, then a chat or a call would be scheduled.

Our emails didn’t compete with Facebook walls and Twitter feeds. Emails were simply it. They were paragraphs of sentiments thrown to you the way paper letters took weeks to be sent and read.

Social media killed email updates

Social media removed the need for the individualized update. When people post photos of their day’s moments and emotions as status updates, everything is seen in pictures and posts meant for the world. The long thought-out sentiment has ceased to exist. There is no longer introspection meant for private consumption. The description of an event or emotion has become unnecessary when a photo says it all.

With messaging and chat, waiting for a reaction to each line before proceeding removes the flow and construction of letter writing. As chat participants, we have mastered the art of the “OK” and “and then.” We are experts in the use of various emoticons and stickers to show we’re still paying attention (even if we’re really not).

These days, if you get a long email you’re usually in trouble. The person writing you must have something so important to say that he or she didn’t want it to arrive piece meal via text or direct message. He or she decided to write, read, and re-read something before sending. Funny how that used to be the only way we communicated only a few years ago.

Forwarded emails are also now a thing of the past, with our gullible titos and titas now plastering our Facebook walls with their false health claims and online hoaxes instead. If we want to show a friend what we received via message or text, there’s always the screenshot.

If not for our desk jobs, we would probably lose our email skills as well, but when was the last time work emails weren’t to-do lists that are just a burden to sift through at the start and end of each day?

The lost art

I’ve lost the friend I mentioned earlier through logistics and she has no access to social media or even the Internet.  I wonder how she would be in all her eloquence in this world where personal expression is available to all and always within reach.

I used to get love letters via email. They contained long-drawn sentiments I drowned in, analyzing word choices and phonetic value, spending days and nights dwelling on preserved sentences from their senders. Now there are just stickers – cats, dogs, bears, and even cartoon characters carrying hearts. There are proclamations of love all over Facebook along a picture of flowers, chocolates, or even a photo from old times past.

I miss the days when the sentiments were mine to keep, to live and relive. I miss the privacy afforded by a letter reserved only for my eyes. 

Now we run the risk of writing emails that will be tagged #TLDR (too long, didn’t read), if it even gets as far as deserving a reply. It’s also become uncommon to receive an email that starts with a “Dear (name),” salutation.

I recently received a “professional” request via email from a supposed writer I didn’t know who didn’t capitalize a single letter or even address my name at the start. Call me old-fashioned or inflexible to modern ways of communicating but I still feel I deserve actual words and sentences, punctuation, proper grammar, and sentence construction – especially when being solicited by a stranger. Guess if I bothered to respond to that.

In the end, personal emails will probably go the way of paper letters in that it will be reserved for the purists who still appreciate the art. Even Facebook retired their name@facebook.com email addresses they once designed to integrate outside emails with their direct messages. As many as 59% of teenagers have stopped using email altogether, considering the medium too formal, lengthy, and unnecessary when texts and chat messages are the norm.

Does that mean only the old-timers will continue to use email along with the 2 million people still using dial-up? I hope not, because there are still people like me who would love to read long storied emails from a friend or lover instead of just seeing online purchase receipts in our inboxes every single time.

Do you enjoy personal emails? Or do you think they are now obsolete? – Rappler.com