June 17, 2012 by Alex Hoekstra
June 17 again? My, how time flies. Twenty-two years alive and with so much living to do, I really have to force myself to slow down and reflect on things as I go; I have to convince myself that pausing to take stock of where I’ve been and where I am is far from a waste of time, and is instead something that makes it all the easier to figure out where I want to go next.
I’m still in San Francisco for the next few days, going to soak up as much of the west as I can. I woke up this morning with only a vague notion of what today will bring, and sitting here before setting out from my hotel room, I can only imagine where I’ll go and what I’ll see, but lucky for you, I’m bringing my camera. It’s lucky for both of us, I suppose – keeping track of life’s adventures extends their duration indefinitely. Years from now, I’ll flip through the photos I took today and remember my 22nd birthday in San Francisco – how the air tasted and the ocean breeze felt – and join my 22-year-old self by the bay again. The memories I make and pictures I take are like letters to my future self, and of course while they’ll be letters that anyone can read, they’ll mean more to me than anyone else in the world. Today’s project is inspired by these sorts of messages and memories, shared amongst those who can extract every drop of meaning from something as simple as a photograph.
Postick wants to put a stamp on the world and send it. I don’t know when the last time you got a hand-written postcard (instead of a facebook wall post) was, but for me, it was an occasion to remember – even one to celebrate. Now, Postick is making more memories mailable with a clever postage label fit for anything from a granddaughter’s crayon masterpiece to a great-grandfather’s first photo in America.
There’s something strangely wonderful about receiving postcards. It’s hard to describe since it’s a little piece of card. But it’s much more than just processed wood and a hand written note. It’s a thought of someone that spontaneously manifested somewhere else in the world. A thought so strong that it transformed itself into hand-written words on a piece of card. That random little thought survived a complex (and fantastic) postal system, continents, human error and the forces of nature and finally made it into that exact little mailbox. It’s a miracle!
Tatjana (Postick’s creator) has summed that up far better than I could have hoped to, so I’ll leave you for now with the hope that you’ll help the world put its memories in the mailbox by supporting Postick before June 19. Now I’m going to go have a birthday worth remembering (and one worth mailing to friends).