Raise your hand if there are guilt-inducing e-mails buried in your inbox? That’s what I thought. How about the voicemail your mom left you a few days ago? Or that returned-to-sender Christmas card you meant to find an updated address for? Let’s not even start about the old grade school friend who recently friended you on MySpace. Instant communication is surely a blessing but it can also feel like a curse. It’s hard to believe e-mail has been a part of my life for 12 years now. Although I was a fervent pen-pal before that (I requested stamps for my birthday every year), it’s difficult to remember waiting patiently for responses to arrive—it was just a bonus when they did. Today I might send a card by snail-mail if I think of it in time, but sending a lengthy letter to a friend seems archaic—what would I have left to share when the person has likely been keeping up with my blog or Facebook status?

I’m being mildly hyperbolic, but I have to be honest—in my life, the family and friends who aren’t reachable via computer get the short end of the communication stick. These days I’m particularly poor with the phone—I’m rarely home, my cell is off or missing most of the time, and I’m terrible about returning calls.

But even e-mail has lost its luster. I manage to keep up with the volume at work, because to a certain degree my job depends upon it, but personal e-mail has suffered lately and I find myself unable to respond at length even when I care deeply for the sender and they obviously put a great deal of time and effort into writing.

It may sound heartless or lazy, but I suspect all this may be a result of what technology experts call “information overload.” This theory posits that we’re so overwhelmed by the amount of data and the number of channels through which we receive it that eventually we struggle to make decisions—a phenomenon known as “analysis paralysis.”

We know logically that it’s unrealistic to keep in touch with everyone we’ve known—but we do have a say in where we put our energy. Quality and quantity in relationships may not be directly opposed, but we may be able to deepen their meaning by making more deliberate choices about who we contact and how frequently.

Try this exercise: Draw two concentric circles. Write the names of the people you trust most inside the inner circle—people who nurture and energize you. In the outer circle, write the names of others you value. Put some thought into which relationships you’d like to grow and which may not be as rewarding. How could you go about shifting the proportion of energy you spend?

Perhaps it’s as simple as being more explicit about our intentions and desires with the people who matter most. It couldn’t hurt to reiterate that a relationship is valuable and that you’d like to be in contact more often. I might be able to compromise about using the phone with folks who aren’t online as much, or reply more briefly to e-mails rather than waiting so long that the guilt outweighs my desire to be in touch.

What are the methods you use to prioritize and communicate appropriately? How has technology changed the ways in which you keep in touch?

Taryn Chase reads all of her fan mail, but may not be able to respond to each one. (She’s always wanted to say that.)