Kaeleigh and I are rarely in the same place at the same time, despite living in the same town, taking the same classes, and operating in the same social sphere. The basis of our friendship is none of these typical markers of camaraderie. Instead, our connection remains embedded in the ether of Apple Voice Memos.
More intimate than a text and less demanding than a phone call, voice memos offer the perfect intermediate means of communication for the modern age. Far from another fad of technology-obsessed society, voice memos require levels of attentiveness, recall, and consistency that some “in-person” relationships don’t.
My daily voice memos with Kaeleigh range from five to 20 minutes in length. They’re personalized podcasts about our days’ events: commentary on campus celebrities looking more haunting than usual, critique of a dumb comment said in class, or a deep dive into That Thing That Happened In Middle School.
Some days feature lighter topics than others, but each note contains threads of conversations we began over six months ago when we no longer occupied the social scenes we’d grown accustomed to over the years. Call it grief, call it the frontal lobe development, but listening to “Starships” for the fourth time at a fraternity event no longer seemed appealing.
Voice memos were a creative way to engage when neither of us respond to text messages for days or weeks on end. The blue “play” button with an accompanied transcript taunts the listener to tune in.
Mundane noises like the crackle of cooking eggs, the metallic crunch of a chip bag, or the sharp pings of signal chirps accompany each note. I know the sound of Kaeleigh’s gluten-free chicken nuggets cooking in her air fryer and the jingle of her doorknob more intimately than I know any of her nonverbals. There are no physical cues to signal emotional states, so both speaker and listener must pay closer attention to how the stories are being told. There’s a standard format to follow with each delivery:
- You begin with a series of introductory remarks, often prefaced with a belated response excuse: “Hi, sorry this is late. Hope your headache is gone. I’m walking home from class.”
- Next, you address content from the person’s previous memo, usually empathizing: “How else were you supposed to react? I’d cop a felony.”
- You then report on any sightings of ex-boyfriends, best friends, or celebrity professors: “I think he needs to wear a tiny bell around his neck like a cat so I stop jumping every time he rounds the corner!”
- Finally, you add whatever strife you’re dealing with that day: “I accidentally turned in a paper about Plato and on the title page, I wrote ‘Aristotle.’ I’m considering dropping out.”
We’re able to include one another in the parts of our lives we don’t directly share. Even if Kaeleigh and I don’t spend a weekend night together, I’ll be sure to hear an account that wouldn’t translate well over text. Kaeleigh will have the utmost grace and stoicism bearing life’s greatest burdens, but threaten firearm violence if someone plays a Pitbull song she doesn’t like.
Something about the faceless, yet intimate design of the interaction encourages a closeness that has transformed our friendship. For two notoriously aloof women with health complications and avoidant tendencies, voice memos are our chosen means of growing together. I’ve had more candid discussions via voice memos about chronic pain, relationship struggles, and academic pursuits with Kaeleigh than with my therapist.
Voice memos enable us to report directly from the in-between spaces of life — the dark confines of our bedrooms, the backend of fake social media profiles, and speedy walks to and from class.
At some point in each voice note these days, we joke about how a few months ago, we were reporting from the trenches of despair. We’d send long accounts of that day’s challenges and ask for advice. But now, they’re different. Our voice memos are lighter, our spirits higher.
Technology has transformed communication and interpersonal relationships in undeniably nuanced ways. I’m a staunch advocate for handwritten letters, seeing those you love in person as often as you can, and making the effort to call someone even for a few minutes. But voice memos offer an opportunity to target certain relationships that are stuck in the no-man’s-land of intimacy.
Ally Hall is a senior studying Rhetoric and Media.
