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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me

3.28.2008

Archived Out Of My Life

My relationship with the internet began via AOL 2.0 and a clever yet misunderstood screen name, UltraKatie. Back in the late 90s there wasn't the social stigma for people to go in chat rooms; in fact, it was one of the only things for a 11 year old to do, other than reading TV message boards, once I finally logged on (remember back in the dial-up days? Sometimes it would take half an hour and at least 10 phone numbers to get through). With a SN like UltraKatie, though, I encountered a lot of advancements that were a little too...advanced.

"A/S/L...let's see whats so ULTRA about you ;p"

"i'm pretty ULTRA myself ;p....m/19/10 inches & a webcam..."

And so on and so on. The reason I was usually in these chat rooms in the first place, besides the fact that I was a bored preteen, was because there is something pretty cool about being able to connect all over the world. Yes, even those packing 10'(which, of course, was always a little confusing since I never knew what they were talking about). This opportunity to connect was often lost on me, however, as I usually just used the opportunity to pick chat room fights. Clare and I used to go into various rooms--Toronto Singles, Goo Goo Dolls Rule!, Vive Guedelajara--and just talk smack about whichever the focus was on. For example, a visit to any Atlanta chat room would involve things like "THE BRAVES SUCK!" and "YOU GUYS LOST THE CIVIL WAR!" and "ANDRUW JONES SUCKS!" This never went over well and we'd usually get kicked out, but we'd just move on to the next room, having our fun ("you like alanis!").

I eventually grew out of the internet taunts. I eventually grew on to bigger and better things, like profiles and AOL Homepages, and later, this blog. And if there's one thing I've learned about the WWW is that what you put on this thing never goes away. The internet is like a never ending filing cabinet of shit, of photos, of profiles, of everything; and as email services keep adding to their hard drives and expanding, it'll become even easier for certain things to never go away.

I'm addicted to my Gmail. It's an addiction that is slowly starting to wane since my job blocked the internet (!) and I can only check it at 7am and after 7pm. That's 12 hours of mail and GChat time that I'm missing out on putting in orders for spot times in Peoria, 12 hours of emails I can be sending or possibly even receiving. As you may have read a few days ago the emails I think I'm getting are actually not being sent, but you get the idea. I miss it.

I used to look forward to emails from people--friends I haven't heard from and have since started a long, cleverly-organized-by-Gmail convo with, even friends I hear plenty of but still like seeing their bolded message as I open up the page. There's something nice about a full inbox or a RE message. There's something even nicer about old emails I've never deleted, because Gmail gives me so many gigs I probably never have to. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. Some of these old emails make my heart swell or make me think of different opportunities or just plain make me laugh, which is nice, and it's nice to know they are there. Some of these emails, though, just make me a little sad.

That's where Archive comes in.

Knowing me I'd never have the guts to delete these emails, but seeing them displayed on the pages of my inbox started pissing me off. So one night while sitting in bed, I went through my pages and pages of emails and Archived all the ones I didnt' want to look at anymore. And in a second they were gone, sort of. Always there via a search or a click of the "all mail" button, but for the most part, filed away in the great Google file cabinet in whatever it is the internet is made of. It's stupid of me to pretend that I'm not sitting here right now hoping for some movement in my Inbox, for a mail that'll make me smile or make me sad and that I'll read a hundred times over. But at the time it felt good seeing them disappear, even if i hope it won't be forever.

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I wonder if my writing has even improved?