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I'm sure Christmas cards are not intended to fill the writer with gloomy thoughts of entropy.
But as I write them, I realise that there are lots of people who I know well on IRC and on Livejournal, but of whose postal address I have no good idea. Sometimes I remember I've seen a change-of-address on LJ, but it'll be friends-only so unGooglable, and will have passed beyond the skip=50 barrier so become almost impossible to browse to.
At least those are people who write about what they're doing, so I feel in touch with them, and hope that, when not on Saturn, I write enough about my life that they feel some degree of contact with me. I can offer them a merry Christmas and my best wishes for 2005 here, even if I can't find postal addresses, and our Livejournal posts tell them I still exist and know they exist, which is really the only other function of Christmas cards.
But there are people I knew from school and from Oxford, who I really don't want to rationalise as having forgotten entirely, but of whom all the information I have is a three-year-old mobile number, a four-year-old street address, and a vague idea of who they were working for in 1999. Whether separately or together, these data are about as useful as three-year-old mince pies, four-year-old satsumas and a vague recollection of what someone got for Christmas in 1999; people move houses, move jobs and move phones more often than that, and mail seldom forwards.
Maybe my cunning anti-SAD purchase of three desk lamps with bright compact-fluorescent bulbs was inadequate, and I should get more of them.
But as I write them, I realise that there are lots of people who I know well on IRC and on Livejournal, but of whose postal address I have no good idea. Sometimes I remember I've seen a change-of-address on LJ, but it'll be friends-only so unGooglable, and will have passed beyond the skip=50 barrier so become almost impossible to browse to.
At least those are people who write about what they're doing, so I feel in touch with them, and hope that, when not on Saturn, I write enough about my life that they feel some degree of contact with me. I can offer them a merry Christmas and my best wishes for 2005 here, even if I can't find postal addresses, and our Livejournal posts tell them I still exist and know they exist, which is really the only other function of Christmas cards.
But there are people I knew from school and from Oxford, who I really don't want to rationalise as having forgotten entirely, but of whom all the information I have is a three-year-old mobile number, a four-year-old street address, and a vague idea of who they were working for in 1999. Whether separately or together, these data are about as useful as three-year-old mince pies, four-year-old satsumas and a vague recollection of what someone got for Christmas in 1999; people move houses, move jobs and move phones more often than that, and mail seldom forwards.
Maybe my cunning anti-SAD purchase of three desk lamps with bright compact-fluorescent bulbs was inadequate, and I should get more of them.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-19 09:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-19 09:37 pm (UTC)Another suggestion
Date: 2004-12-19 09:57 pm (UTC)Re: Another suggestion
Date: 2004-12-19 11:11 pm (UTC)-m-
no subject
Date: 2004-12-20 09:45 am (UTC)Another alternative (though it may be a bit late for this year) would be to contact the people one was still in contact with and try and combine resources with them to try and locate the missing people. I'm not sure how much I'd trust it to be up to date either but I do get sent Old Girl information from school which gives you change of address information from people, although I think it only gives you changes so you have to have kept all the old ones to have the original data for people who haven't moved. Anyway, I am sure your school would do something similar, if not more useful, if you could get hold of it.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-20 08:43 pm (UTC)My school sends notes saying they only need another £400,000 to finish renovating the music school to my parents' address; they forward them to me, and after a somewhat circuitous journey (as, knowing my school, my parents' address and my own, you will realise) they come to me. Generally they then proceed briskly to the recycling box.
no subject
Date: 2005-01-19 04:25 am (UTC)I love LJ.