You're my favourite notification

Archived from Jul 20, 2023:

I saw a person walking up the street with a shirt that said just that: “You’re My Favourite Notification.” It was, of course, in a terrible Etsy cursive font, but that’s not the point.

Instinctively, I thought of a few people, and was simultaneously struck with thoughts of my friends far away and how grim a slogan that is. I left home six years ago, seven years ago? The time isn’t the point; it’s that I still visit home to see people I talk to every day. I left Winnipeg with best friends, and years later, I still hold them close and dear. Even using the turn of phrase “hold them close” made me laugh, because literally they are very far, but they still feel so close, even if that proximity is created digitally. The thing about the shirt, which I’m sure this unsuspecting person didn’t intend to elicit, is I was struck by the dichotomy of long distance intimacy compared to digitally maintained loneliness.

I want to be clear, I have no way of knowing if I would still have these relationships if I had been afforded different technology in my life, but what I do know is that I am grateful. It’s easy to fall into the trap of assuming virtue of yourself, that you would have gone above and beyond in any instance, but I think that’s unfounded and inaccurate. I have many friendships that span over a decade: I’m the kind of person that is hard to shake once I’ve decided I like you. But at the same time, it’s hard to feel like the maintenance of those relationships isn’t contingent on the technology we have at our disposal, how could it not be contributing? In a different day and age, would we have called enough to maintain the friendship? Would we have mailed pictures to one another? There’s no way of knowing, but what I do know is I love the ability I now have to let my friends know I’m thinking of them, even in the silliest of ways.

So, first, a love letter:

“The frequency keeps the space open for moments of depth.”

I asked a few friends that I have long distance relationships with how much they felt that technology afforded us the ability to stay so close, or was it something more about who we are as people? The general consensus was that it was a mix of the two. Foundationally, our friendships are built on trust, and the ease with which we can frequently connect doesn’t necessarily replace more meaningful or intimate moments. Rather, it keeps the connection open so when those things do arise, it feels as natural as it ever has. Perhaps in a time of less technology, we would have made phone calls or written letters, but there is certainly something to be said for the ease and consistency that modern technology affords when it comes to relationship maintenance. There’s calls, texts, video calls, voice notes, memes, group chats, spread across different apps to regularly let others know you’re thinking of them. This isn’t a substitute for the actual work of a relationship, as one friend pointed out, rather, it accentuates it. She attributed the many years of calls, texts and trips to see each other to a foundational trust and faith in good intentions we established many years ago. When one of us doesn’t respond for a while, there is no malicious intent assumed, rather a respect for the other person’s life or, even more likely, an immediate knowledge that they are off camping, working or any number of things because we still tell each other basically everything. We share openly, because we know we will be met with understanding.

Before I left home, I lived through Winnipeg winters. Deep, dark, cold and long, looking for ways to pass the short days, especially after exams were over. Despite living on the same street, a friend and I would watch the same show in our respective apartments, unwilling to brave the cold. We would text a countdown, and proceed to message one another in lieu of having a conversation while we watched whatever was the choice of the day. We still do this. It makes more sense now that I live in another city, but there is a strange nostalgia to the habit that I love. This was something not born out of distance, but out of love and cold that would struggle to be replicated in another climate, another technological phase.

Am I a good friend? Or am I an OK friend with access to great technology?

I don’t mean to earnestly ask these questions, but rather I can’t help but wonder, in the face of that strange and atrocious shirt, how different my life had the potential to be. I know, deep down, in my bones, how intensely I love. Again, I am not an easy person to shake, but how much of that intensity is afforded to me, both positively and negatively, through our modern forms of communication? There’s no way to know, but I am so grateful for the in jokes and rituals that I have built both near and far over many years. I love watching my friends grow and change, hearing about the steps along the way. I adore getting voice notes, excitedly telling me about a new project. I love getting baby announcements via late night GIFs. Yes, that actually happened. I love all the way I am connected to my friends, despite the distance, but of course, all of these pale in comparison to a tight, long delayed hug and laughter ringing in the air.

Second, a hate letter:

There are so many articles about how the architects of modern social media won’t let their own kids touch the shit. Fine, you’re within your rights to raise your kid however you want, but to make a social poison, then conveniently have the means to raise a child outside of it just rings incredibly hollow to me. They’ve already been paid handsomely, frequently leaving when the whole thing becomes too morally cumbersome while insisting they had to, because if they hadn’t, someone else would have, because if they hadn’t, someone else would have, and someone else would have. Repeat, until you are sufficiently tired.

We have watched the repercussions of social media, and the rapid development of technology in general, in real time for the past decade or so, each year feeling more extreme than the last. Mass disinformation, the erosion of privacy, the mass isolation I have written about more than once, mass layoffs due to automation and the very real and material consequences that come with all of these. Jobs lost, evictions, radicalized conspiracy theorists terrorizing the real world, rent and grocery prices skyrocketing with no end in sight. These networks have come to shape and define so much of our lives, both materially and digitally.

I hate the idea of a person being reduced to only being a notification. When I saw that shirt, a few people in my life immediately came to mind, and on that thoughts’ heels was intently confirming all the things I know and love about those people. Surely, they’re more to me than notifications. I needed that confirmation. I suspect the person wearing the shirt thought it was sweet, whereas I desperately needed to make sure I hadn’t reduced those I love so dearly to a few pixels on a screen. I understand how we relate to one another had changed a lot since 2020, and technology afforded us a lot of access to our loved ones we couldn’t have otherwise. It is hard to feel like this hasn’t been turned on us. I do think a lot of people need more quiet time than before 2020, but it also feels like sometimes all there’s time for is a text, a meme, a notification, distance or not.

Between seeing that shirt and writing this, a study came out from the CCPA Rental Wage Report. Toronto ranked absolute shit: a minimum wage worker would have to work 134 hours a week to be able to afford the deep and intense luxury of a one bedroom apartment. I have two jobs to make ends meet, they total weekly as well over 40 hours a week. I love to see my friends and yet, I am tired. It feels deliberate to be told that being a notification is good enough. We’re all so busy! You’re friends have more productive things to be doing! Be grateful to be a notification, at least you can be that. I see the power and use of social media as a tool, but ultimately, it doesn’t replace seeing loved ones or foraging real community bonds. I want to build a better world, and I believe that comes not from notifications themselves, but from the love that surrounds them.

Sorry for the late newsletter, friends! I accidentally toggled the scheduled post to 8 PM instead of 8 AM and didn’t even notice until I realised I hadn’t received a notification. Speaking of, how do we feel about the 8 AM on Thursdays? If I’m being honest, I literally rolled TTRPG dice to decided on a day and time each week, so it’s hardly set in stone. Is early good, or more of a late morning post like today? Feel free to leave an answer below, and as always, thanks for being here, friends!