I'm a big fan of technology. Trust me, if someone had told high-school me that one day I'd be able to carry 400 CDs in my pocket, I would have done a little dance of joy, complete with a high kick or two, because I was good at those then. But when does technology impede what we do? When does it detract? Is that even possible?
I used to have to write creatively on paper. Getting my fingers on a keyboard felt foreign and clinical, so I reserved it for school assignments and developed drafts. When I hand wrote, I could watch my handwriting change with my thoughts--neat and precise when my brain worked slowly and methodically, then frantic, messy, and large when my hand fought to keep up. I bolded important or angry sentiments, pressing hard into the page and leaving a fading shadow of the significance on the leaves below. I loved the mess of revisions--it showed the path I'd traveled to get from then to now: imperfect words perfected, awkward sentences made graceful, and characters developed into lifelike people. Different shades of blue, black, green, red, and purple crowded together in the areas I worked the hardest on, each color from the closest pen available at the time and creating a timeline of my work. A beautiful chaos that word processors eradicate.
One of the problems I had with typing was the lock-down feel it gave. I had to be at the computer, which didn't move. I felt chained to a desk--the same place, the same view--and if inspiration hit when I was nowhere near Mr. PC, I was up the proverbial creek. I could carry my notebook everywhere. I could write outside in the sunshine, in the corner of a coffee shop, or at my desk during a lecture I felt like ignoring.
But now, I'm addicted to typing. The change was gradual, beginning with my fondness for the easy, digital organization offered by disks (and later the flashdrive) and the "convenience" of laptops. (I guess they are convenient, but to me, I felt like I imagine mothers of infants must feel. Do I have all your gear/necessities? Great, now let's pack you into this giant case/carrier and lug you around. Oh, now you're hungry. Let's find a corner with an outlet/privacy.) But I've digressed. Yes, laptops are (mostly) handy, and flashdrives are AWESOME, and as I've collected more and more files and reference material, these things make my life so easy.
And so I turned. I went almost completely digital. I used to hand write 90% of the time, and now that's reversed. I even invested in a netbook this past summer, and it's usually within arm's reach.
Books have undergone the same transformation. I looked at those Kindles (I'm a complete Amazon junkie, by the way) and thought, "How cool! I can have all that information on one little device. My purse will be so light without the giant fantasy novel or hardback edition in it. But I can't." I had a lot of (really great) reasons, too. I love the feel and smell of books. I love to pass them on to people who will read them and discuss them with me. I love watching my bookmark progress from front to back. And I love staying up way too late just to get to the end because I can see with my very own eyes that I'm nearly there!
That's when my parents bought me, my sister, and my brother each a Kindle to share with our spouses. That was in December. Those original four Kindles (the three gifts plus my mother's) has grown into nine. My dad, husband, two sisters-in-law, and niece have all purchased their own since then. I thought I'd hold out, but I fell in love at an almost embarrassing pace. I explain this attraction with our shared Kindle account. We all have access to the same books. And since my family is spread out between California and Kansas, this device has actually brought us together and opened several great discussions about reading. If it weren't for my family's shared Kindle love, I'd definitely still be a "recreational user," but I'm glad I've given in.
I do miss the feel and smell of paper. It bothers me a little bit that digital isn't as permanent as tangible. And sometimes I do feel like the outsider when I can't lend a book that I have on Kindle. However, all I have to do is walk into my library, the product of 10 years of collecting. There I have all the paper feel and smell I need, and I'm reminded that I can fit maybe two more shelves in before my books start needing a second room.
As I pack my netbook and Kindle away in my purse, I realize that I'm a traitor in the worst degree. I can admit it because I love it.
No comments:
Post a Comment