Confessions of a Sensitive Man Headline Animator

Thursday, November 16, 2006

The Inbox

The Inbox.

Your voicemail, email, recording machine, and mailbox.

On a pretty bad level, these inboxes are at times full of crap, spam, telemarketing practice speeches, and family "love."

On a tolerable more neutral level, they are full of messages from old friends you haven't seen in years or not so close friends you don't feel like talking to. Here, it is your mood or present physiological condition that determines whether these messages are worthy of your attention and response.

On a very good level, inboxes are full of responses from your crush, admission letters from graduate schools, rebate and refund confirmations, gossip and unexpected affirmations and compliments from people you want to hear from.

This is one example of how some people's brains would process (and categorize) information upon looking at through their inbox. It's a routine. Like all normal activity, however, the most ordinary and regular of routines can be brought under a new light after the occurrence of shocking events...like a car accident.

My inboxes have been more of a crutch than a chore since October 16, 2006. The number of messages I had received after the accident - on my voicemail, email addresses etc. - reflected the amount of good relationships I developed over the years and it is my intention to preserve those relationships to the best of my ability.

It also made me think about small notes, hellos, and other messages I had ignored in the past. Think about it. You have one friend who drops hellos once in a while. You ignore her for months thinking that she'll be around anyway to talk to some other time. Then you brush death. Will you be around to ask her how she's doing?

Think about it. People are going out of their way and breaking their routine to ensure that they are preserving their relationship with you.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

So true.

Almost (but not quite) makes one want such a life changing experience myself. It seems that you who experience such epiphanic events are frequently granted the whole "new lease on life" phenomenon.

The rest of us who have not been -- dare I say -- graced by a brush with death, have to work a little harder because it's not quite a pavement-hard reality.

What you say is heart breakingly true, and I hope this sense always stays with you and doesn't fade or whither too much.