Address books are pretty high up on my priority list right now. While setting up the new computer, I figured I might as well update mine, somehow, some way. I’ve had my e-mail program set up so that every time I respond to e-mail, the e-mail address I send to gets added to my personal address book, if it isn’t already there. My big mistake is that I don’t regularly go through the address book and weed it out. It’s got close to 400 “cards” in it, and the majority of them aren’t “clean”.

There are cards that have no names … because the people attached to them were too lazy or too clueless to enter in a first and last name in their e-mail profile. So I have e-mail addresses that are just about as useful to me as a list of phone numbers plucked haphazardly out of the white pages. Who are these people?

There are cards that have names that make no sense to me … because the people attached to them were too cute, too private, or too immature to put their real names in their e-mail profile. So I have e-mail addresses, nicknames, and screennames for people I’m not sure I even know well or not. Who is Afullflame? Are they family, friend, colleague, or what?

There are cards that have names but are duplicated twice, three times, or even ten times over … because the people attached to them can’t make up their mind what names to put in their e-mail profile—with or without their middle names, capitalized or not, real name or pen name, whatever—or they can’t make up their mind what e-mail address out of their ten to use. So I’m left wondering which e-mail addresses are best and the most up to date for certain people. Can I still reach them via this one, or can I delete that now?

There are cards that have good solid names and appear only once … but who the hell are they, and why don’t I remember who these people are?

It’s mostly my fault, I know. I don’t clean up the cards as soon as they’re made, and I don’t add to the cards for future reference. Mailing addresses, phone numbers, URLs, birthdays, and notes on who these people are to me. I don’t do any of that stuff, and my mind is like a sieve. I’d forget my own name if given half a chance.

But part of it is due to the sheer number of people that pass through my life, digitally or otherwise. I don’t really initialize contact any more. I mostly respond. And if I don’t hear from someone for a very long time, they slip from my more immediate memory, and their names get lost in the ether. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t remember half of the people in my address book. Like Amy Miller—I don’t know if I know her from work, from life, from online somewhere, or if that’s just the real name of an author, whose pen name I would actually recognize. I have no clue.

I want to delete these names from my address book, but I’m too afraid that I’ll have one of those light bulb moments later and regret that I’ve deleted it.

So I spent all day going through my address books and separating the names into separate address books—one for each of my two main publishers, one for family, and one for friends. It took me all day because even though I did it in the quickest way I know, I’m compulsive. I exported from the address book and worked in a spreadsheet format to make life easier on me, but I filled in every field I could. Then I imported back from a tab delimited text file and then did the entire process twice, just to make sure I got each book through okay.

And while I contemplated all the people passing through in my life, I withstood the extremely loud sounds of Mexican laborers on my balcony as they removed the wooden beams from above and cut through the dry wall, leaving holes above my window and throwing plaster all over my work area.

Yes, live people passed through my wall as I tried to sort out the people who have passed through my e-mail. As a result, other than a Japanese lunch, I got nothing else done today. My eyes are swimming.

Now I know why, in heavily populated cities like New York, no one except out-of-towners smiles at or greets the people passing by. There are too many people, and any attempt to commit any of their faces or names to memory would be futile. It’s a bit like responding to e-mail only when a response is required.

I’m April, and I’m just passing through. I’ll clean up the plaster. No response required.

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