13,664 photos gone forever
Recommending an app: SwipeWipe
For the last 211 days, I’ve done the same thing on my phone every morning around 7am, usually while feeding the baby her bottle. First, obviously, I knock out Wordle (my starter word is PIANO) — then I slide over to the third page of apps and tap open SwipeWipe.
Swipewipe is an app to help clean out your digital library.
Every morning, it shows me every photo on my phone from that day over the years — as befits the name, I swipe left to delete it or swipe right to keep it, and then after one more chance to review all my selections, I can quickly free myself of my digital trash.
There’s a gamification aspect of keeping your streak alive (which is how I know I’ve done this for 211 days) and a satisfying visual about how many photos I’ve deleted and how much memory I’ve saved.
I’ve had an iPhone since 2012, so I have photos going back nearly 13 years — in the 211 days I’ve been reviewing my pics, I’ve gone through tens of thousands of images and screenshots.
I scroll in reverse chronological order, swiping past newborns, pregnancy bump shots, work accomplishments, airline tickets, headlines I tweeted, screenshots from my first conversation on Hinge with my now-husband, late nights in campaign offices and drunken karaoke nights, and of course, nearly 12 years worth of pictures of my dog.
Deciding what to keep and what to delete is mostly pretty easy. I don’t need to hold on to a dozen photos of the baby covered in yogurt — one or two will suffice. Screenshots of headlines that make me mad all over again can go into the trash; videos of the dog romping in the (probably lead-filled-but-who-cares) ball fields near our old apartment can stay.
Starting my day this way is like downing a shot of espresso but instead of caffeine, it’s a surge of ~feelings~ — of nostalgia, of happy-sad memories, of wonderment at the passage of time, of rage I’d forgotten I had or of heartbreak I’ve long since healed.
I like it though, for two primary reasons.
First, I like jogging my own memory. I’ve got a good head for facts and figures, especially for anecdotes and data related to my work — I can recite dozens of Run for Something candidates we’ve worked with over the years (and also, somehow, all the lyrics to Superman by Eminem) — but my memory for my own life is meh, at best.
I have very few stories I can easily recount from my childhood, and even now, as an adult, I’ve somehow memory-holed a lot — most of the things that have stuck are the things that I documented.
It’s fun to remember: Oh yeah, we did throw a great Run for Something party in 2018! I forgot about that that night in 2020 when we went to see Coyote Ugly at the drive-in theater! My bachelorette party was really fun!
It’s also refreshing to confirm what I’ve forgotten. The bad things I’ve documented for whatever reason — the criticisms, the articles that made me furious, the pictures from the not-so-fun nights out — have all faded. Seeing them and realizing I’ve forgotten about them is a good reminder to present-day me that any emotional bruises cooking today will, like nearly everything else, eventually fade.
The second reason is related to that: Going through my life in this way hammers home how time passes and things change.
I have a ring I’ve worn on my right middle finger for nearly 20 years that says in Hebrew, “gam zeh ya’avor, which translated, means “this too shall pass.” According to the stories, it was inscribed on a ring that King Solomon requested when he asked for an object that would make him happy when he was sad and sad when he was happy.
Scrolling the digital detritus of my life each morning and seeing my dog get slower and grayer, tracking the change from positive pregnancy tests to chaotic toddler and smiley infant, following my work’s ups and downs via Instagram stories that saved in my photo library — it’s the same kind of reminder as my ring. Everything changes, always. Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse, but change is the only constant.
Especially right now, I like keeping that perspective. This bullshit — which includes but is not limited to Trump, frustrating Democrats in Congress, that the baby keeps waking us up at 3am just to talk to herself for 45 minutes, all of it! — will not last forever.
Time will pass. Onward we go.
Anyway. Get the app! It’s not free, but I’m glad I paid for it: $7.99/week or $79.99 for a year.
Two book recs:
Woodworking by Emily St. James — A funny, tender, beautifully written novel about Erica Skyberg, a 35-year old recently divorced English teacher and about-to-come-out trans woman who befriends the only other trans woman she knows: One of her students, Abigail. This book is so good and so (unsurprisingly) insightful about the interiority of a gender transition in all its forms, and there is a twist of narration toward the end that is so deftly done it floored me. I loved this.
Deep Cuts by Holly Brickley — Percy Marks (an aspiring music critic/writer) and Joe Morrow (an aspiring musician/singer/songwriter) meet at a bar near Berkeley in 2000 and kick off a partnership/collaboration/romance/situationship that lasts over a decade, across careers, cities, and heartbreaks. I am aggressively uncool about music so only knew maybe half of the references in this but still, really enjoyed the tortured friendship/relationship and the vibes.
Other reading recs:
Why dads should read more motherhood memoirs. [The New Fatherhood]
The baby-gear industrial complex — now supercharged with technology and optimization methods — is out of control! [Business Insider]
“Gen Z’s attitude to work derives from the feeling that giving one hundred and ten per cent is pointless. If they’re never going to be able to afford a house or climb to the top of a company, they might as well make their nine-to-five enjoyable.” [The Standard from the UK]
oooh, thank you for this! Best possible way to gamify something to reduce my "monthly storage" fee to Apple and also to feel unburdened by my digital detritus!