Lately I’ve been feeling old.
Wanting to stay in on Saturday nights, waking up earlier in the mornings (although, I admit, this is the most challenging), having no desire to play video games. Less enthused about the little things that used to excite me in my earlier years, like gadgets or new technology.
Then, the other day, I was having a conversation with a friend about blogging (or my lack thereof), and the subject of my preference for pen and paper came to light. I do enjoy writing, but I find greater satisfaction experiencing the ink flowing smoothly from the tip a pen resting between my fingers, gently pressed against the fibers of a sheet of fine paper whilst tracing passing thoughts in my head. I find that this simple appreciation is lost in today’s world of electronic communication, between tweets and texting. But why shouldn’t it be? In a world where instantaneous communication is available at our fingertips through some interface, be that a keyboard, keypad, or a capacitive touch screen, what necessitates such crude tools of communication like a pen and paper?
The same can be said about reading. Why waste all that space and paper when you can have all the literature in the world, delivered conveniently to you in the form of an e-Reader?
Ever since I was a child my passion has been embracing technology, adapting my lifestyle to the speed, ease, and convenience it offers. I’ve been typing on a keyboard since I was 8 (1992), emailing, and instant messaging since I was 12, in 1996 (oh America Online, you made such wonderful drink coasters and frisbees), texting now for over a decade.
But I still enjoy using pen and paper. I enjoy picking up a book, feeling its weight in my hands and its pages between my fingers.
Does this make me old, a hypocrite, or both?
