I ordered an item from eBay. The parcel, however, have never arrived. Lost on the way. It happened again. It reminds me of the last time when a picture postcard got lost.
I was in Oregon. I had a job and lost it. I was looking for a work, and the process of applying for a job was affecting me mentally and physically. I was writing application letters continuously, constantly, over a certain period of time. I did everything possible. I looked for the Sunday paper for potential employers, went to libraries to study resumes, went to community colleges for courses that might increase the chance of employment, and frequented the local municipal employment office for job opening and resume hints.
During my hardship, my parents visited the United States. Traveling is one of the only pleasure of life that they have. The modest pleasure of life and they are pleased to get American foods especially because they are so plentiful and cheap. They prefer warmer climate and Oregon was too cold. They sent me a postcard. We have been communicating via emails, but their own handwriting on the card should have been something else. Their handwriting is pretty and prettier than most of the people nowadays out of necessity. There have been no machines that are helping us now to write. My father has always been modest on his own handwriting. I liked his thick and strong style of handwriting and said so but he never listened. "I wish I could write better," he said. "There are those which are simply amazing." referring to people who has been writing with brushes instead of pens in those days.
It turned out to be that I had not had the chance to look at their handwriting. It was because, the post card never has arrived. It was lost in the way. The reason? The mailbox was not locked. But who would benefit from stealing a mere postcard?
The next time I had trouble with the mailing system was this year's when the modem apparently left outside without my signature. And now, I am having trouble with the eBay item. The item has not arrived. Again. This time, I am beginning to see the reason why I possibly should not trust the system. The simple math tells me that this is too much. It is not that I use the system too often for those kinds of things to happen.
The postal service is suffering from the loss of the volume of first class mails. It may simply because tweeting, Facebook, emails and cell phones are more trustworthy for those sort of correspondence. Time changes and the technology changes. But something never do, like our love and pain that comes from the deprived opportunity to communicate. Like the music and literature that tell the same old story of wars and the war deaths, the lives of human, the toils and hardships of life, have something common that unites and defines us as human being.
I was in Oregon. I had a job and lost it. I was looking for a work, and the process of applying for a job was affecting me mentally and physically. I was writing application letters continuously, constantly, over a certain period of time. I did everything possible. I looked for the Sunday paper for potential employers, went to libraries to study resumes, went to community colleges for courses that might increase the chance of employment, and frequented the local municipal employment office for job opening and resume hints.
During my hardship, my parents visited the United States. Traveling is one of the only pleasure of life that they have. The modest pleasure of life and they are pleased to get American foods especially because they are so plentiful and cheap. They prefer warmer climate and Oregon was too cold. They sent me a postcard. We have been communicating via emails, but their own handwriting on the card should have been something else. Their handwriting is pretty and prettier than most of the people nowadays out of necessity. There have been no machines that are helping us now to write. My father has always been modest on his own handwriting. I liked his thick and strong style of handwriting and said so but he never listened. "I wish I could write better," he said. "There are those which are simply amazing." referring to people who has been writing with brushes instead of pens in those days.
It turned out to be that I had not had the chance to look at their handwriting. It was because, the post card never has arrived. It was lost in the way. The reason? The mailbox was not locked. But who would benefit from stealing a mere postcard?
The next time I had trouble with the mailing system was this year's when the modem apparently left outside without my signature. And now, I am having trouble with the eBay item. The item has not arrived. Again. This time, I am beginning to see the reason why I possibly should not trust the system. The simple math tells me that this is too much. It is not that I use the system too often for those kinds of things to happen.
The postal service is suffering from the loss of the volume of first class mails. It may simply because tweeting, Facebook, emails and cell phones are more trustworthy for those sort of correspondence. Time changes and the technology changes. But something never do, like our love and pain that comes from the deprived opportunity to communicate. Like the music and literature that tell the same old story of wars and the war deaths, the lives of human, the toils and hardships of life, have something common that unites and defines us as human being.