I sometimes tell myself I am going to delete all the sent mail that is collecting like so much detritus on my computer. It's not doing anybody any good, I think to myself. I should just be rid of it altogether. My computer will run faster, and the sent mail won't just sit there. It is, after all, taking up valuable space on my hard drive.

But then I start going through the e-mails, and I find myself incapable of parting with it all. There's so much time invested in that Sent Items folder, so many words, so many stories. What if I forget them, and then I can't go back and look? And so it is, much like the National Geographic collection I held on to through two moves, that the only time I look at my sent mail is when I'm thinking of getting rid of it. That's when it starts to seem special.

Once again, I find myself paging through the Sent Items that have amassed on my laptop, a computer I just started using for e-mail last October. During the last three months of 2002 alone, I wrote to people about my new job, my trip to New Jersey, my love of rainstorms, and some of the minor hopes and fears that don't warrant actual phone calls or in-person visits. I wrote to procrastinate while attempting to write my novel-in-a-month and to tell people about the birth of my new niece, Lilly.

While I read through these e-mails, a general image slowly begins to emerge. I am able, in some small way, to achieve a fairly objective view of what I'm like, and how other people might perceive me. Allow me to give you a couple of examples.

I am a thoughtful and supportive friend:
"i didn't know pig shit made you happy, but now i know what to get you for your birthday!"
"congrats on getting laid and quitting smoking! what a busy week you had!"
"Good luck tonight! Just keep pretending she's not out of your league, and she'll probably go for it."

A savvy political commentator:
"And what the fuck is up with Florida? Jeb Bush? Again?"
"dude, bush is such a jackass."

A master detective:
"john? i'm guessing on your e-mail address. is this correct?"

A kind and loving aunt:
"...my sister gave birth to Lilly Noel this afternoon... She was 9 lbs, 14 oz at birth, which makes her a very big baby. Out of curiosity, I did some web searching and learned that the average female turkey that gets sold at the supermarket weighs between 9 and 12 lbs, so she's about the size of a small turkey. I feel a little guilty comparing my new niece to a turkey, but it was the first thing that came to mind by way of a size comparison."

A girl with hopes and dreams:
"wow! i've always wanted a little donkey."

A theologian:
"maybe there's a really nice god who's not very competent. maybe the old god died, and he's just sort of getting a feel for the whole thing?"

I am disillusioned:
"what is the word 'doeth' doing in a fortune cookie? 'dashing and bold'?? i give up on fortune cookies."

An intrepid photographer, as evidenced by this photo I sent with no subject, and no accompanying text:

It is because of exercises like this one that I'm incapable of deleting any but the most inane messages from my Sent Items folder. Oh, I'll get rid of all those test messages that I sent when my ISP was on the fritz. But if I delete the rest of them, how will the future me ever know what I was like?