Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair…

Sandi Thom’s voice comes through the radio. I had just come home from a busy day at work, and a pile of mail was waiting to be sorted: electricity bill… home phone bill… mobile phone bill… real estate notice… council notice… letter from Muriko in Japan… invoice… wait, a letter from Muriko?

When the head of state didn’t play guitar, not everybody drove a car…

I back up one square and stare at an overly decorated envelope sporting a Hello Kitty drawing, my address neatly handwritten in black ink right in the centre. Muriko was my pen-pal in high school, when having pen-pals was a big craze. Ever since e-mail took over, we stopped writing so regularly and I’ve forgotten what joy it could bring to be receiving a letter in somebody else’s handwriting. I smile and tear open the seal.

When accountants didn’t have control and the media couldn’t buy your soul….

It’s not everyday you receive a letter in the post these days, at least not one that is not a bill or a payment notice. With technology handling all our daily communication between friends, colleagues and even family, I don’t even seem to talk to my sister anymore. Instead, we have our daily chat on MSN.

When computers were still scary and we didn’t know everything…

The lyric rings in my head as I read through Muriko’s accounts of her recent life. Recent is a relative word now. The post had taken 7 days to delivery this letter from Nagoya in Japan, to Sydney in Australia. Ten years ago, that was still pretty fast, but today in this digital age, 7 days is already ancient history.

The internet and online technology have only been booming within the past two decades, yet we seem to have adapted to it extremely fast. Everyone have an email address or two, and everything is discussed through online forums and chat. When we used to make friends from playing sport and joining social groups, now anyone can have a friend somewhere in the world without leaving their desk. Online communities such as MySpace and Facebook have taken over the meaning of friendship, where you can “request” to be someone’s friend whether you know them or not. A “friend” is no longer someone who lends a shoulder to cry on, rather, is whoever bothers to visit your profile and send you virtual kisses.

I had to request my sister to be my friend. Now that was awkward.

When pop stars still remained a myth and ignorance can still be bliss….

Having also being sucked into the virtual friendship world of these online communities, I have managed to find my cousins scattered all over the world, old primary school friends, old colleagues and even, random friends I’ve met while backpacking around the globe. It’s amazing. Even when we know ourselves that all our phone numbers are stored somewhere in a phonebook, we rather be friends online. There is something about hiding behind text that gives us the courage to express ourselves, where all our personal details, including what sexual preferences we have, are broadcasted to everyone to access, where we “accept” friends simply by looking at their photo, and clicking on the button. Friendship is no longer about sharing a childhood memory, or giving physical and moral support. It’s now in forms of virtual kisses, and complimentary comments.

Muriko’s letter finishes by reminding me that she now has an email address, and I am welcome to email her if I wanted to. She has also listed a few other ways to contact her: her MySpace account, her MSN sign-on, her ICQ number and her Skype name.

Oh I wish I was a punk rocker with flowers in my hair.

The song finishes, and the DJ announces there was going to be two adverts before he returns with more songs. I pause, thinking what I should do next. Slowly, I reached for a pen, found a suitable piece of note paper. I started to hand write a reply to Muriko.