I just deleted a folder full of emails from an ex-girlfriend. They lingered in my Email account, mostly becauee I never look at the folder sections, they're there for the purpose of not clogging up my inbox. But, like anyone, I had to look before I dumped it all. I saw the chemistry, and then the quick disolve. We had something and we lost it. I thought of keeping her email address, and maybe sending her a note, but instead I copied and pasted this mistake "bright, rich anamorphic transfer (1.33:1)" instead of taking care of holding on to her e-mail addy. Freud may have been right on this one. I also recently shanked my Friendster account simply because I never went there and didn't care about it any more, of which she is a member. Friendster is so past tense anyway. My last email to her was dated June, so I'm a month ahead of a year delay on that one.
But this leads to another thought. My desk has a drawer filled with old love letters and pictures from other relationships. I never look at them, but I can't bring my self to toss them. This thought I think is a natural response, the only thing I've ever destroyed is a set of picture I wouldn't wish a garbageman to stumble upon.
Other than that, my nostalgia closet isn't very deep. I have a journal from Russia, and it hasn't been cracked in ages. And one yearbook. Otherwise, I just have a small collection of my past writing, from high school and college (the college stuff is embarrassingly on line. When it comes to being a journalist, and good grammar, I've learned more in the last three years then I ever learned in school, and I still have bad habits, like run on sentences that never seem to.... JOKE IS OBVIOUS).
This all reminds me that I got a letter on Friday from a high school friend I haven't talked to in years that had a picture of her second child. I doubt I will respond. Though I guess we're all guilty of navel gazing from time to time, publically and privately, this type of post is generally as deep as my nostalgia goes. And I think it's the reason why I decided to not include the ability to respoond to stuff like this. Sometimes my writing is just simply meant to be me metaphorically whispering my secrets into a hole in the wall, which I'll momentarily cover with dirt.