So I have this little... problem. I don't like to abbreviate. Which, by very definition, makes me a horrible texter. <-- Even that word? Texter? Feels icky as a former newspaper employee. Also? It sounds dirty. Texter. He texter and she didn't like it. See?!
Also, I obviously have a problem with going off on tangents and never returning. More on that another time.
If you were to receive a text from me, your phone would suddenly sound like it was malfunctioning, hiccupping one text alert after another, several in succession, all because my text is the length of a small novel, sans abbreviations of course.
Hey, it's Megan. I was thinking about this the other day (because something you said made me think of this so I just had to tell you now) and we should really plan on taking a trip somewhere this summer. Maybe somewhere beachy? I don't know. Do you think that might be too pricey? Maybe we would be better off going in the off-season? Or do you think we should do something different? I don't know why I'm even mentioning it; I'm not sure I can even afford it, but I thought I'd run it by you. I'll email you later so we can talk about it more in-depth because it's so hard to get your point across via text, you know? Hope all is well!
Yeaaaah. True story, fake text.
Someone more textual than I (and I realize that's not at all what textual is supposed to mean, but c'mon, for the sake of this post, let's go with it) will send me a text every once in a while and my Blackberry will let out a lone *CHIRP* letting me know someone had something, um, more brief to say.
OMG ur whack. rofl ;) xoxo
It would take me like eight sentences to say that same thing and I could never even attempt the "ur" in place of you are or you're without getting an eye twitch.
But get me on the phone - or worse - I hear the beeeeeep on your voicemail and I suddenly have nothing to say. Well, nothing coherent.
"Uh... This is Megan. [nervous pause, pace the house two very quick times] It's like, shit, what day is it? I don't know. ANYWAYS! Yeah! Call me. It's Megan! [nervous pause, pace the house two very quick times] Um, so, bye! [slam the phone down]
[Come back two minutes later to realize I never hit 'off' on the phone; this is 2000-something, not 1985 - we don't hang up phones without pushing a button anymore, MEGAN.]
This is why my cell phone voicemail outgoing message is still the automated one that came with my Blackberry. THE PRESSURE! I mean, you only get one (fine, endless opportunities) to get the message right, but do you do the creative thing? the professional thing? the play-it-cool-I-don't-care-that-you-called-'cause-I'm-cool-like-that thing? *brain short-circuits*
Also, this kind of thinking might explain my blog posts. Come to think of it.