The Folly of the Digital Era
May 3rd 2010 06:17
A handwritten page from my journal.
There was a time, even in the late twentieth century, when we wrote with pens and pencils without our faces turning red with embarrassment. It was such a task to join the alphabets in kindergarten, but we mastered the art of it anyway because we were obsessed with our handwriting and the impression it created on our teachers. Some of the little boys in my class even had their butts whipped on a regular basis for their illegible handwritings (which was rather hilarious, though it should have been depressing). Who'd have known that one of these days, writing with pens and pencils would become so obsolete that the art of it seemed Amish. And you bet, those little victimised boys are desperate to meet their teachers from kindergarten one last time, this time with iPod touches and notebook computers that create all but the illegible.
Surprisingly, they call us Generation D.
It might come as delightful to some of my teachers from junior classes that I am a 100% obsessed with my handwriting, despite the fact that anything handwritten gets flicked into the bin and the typed word is the final word. I particularly focus on the M, since it's my initial, and being the zany person I am, I want to arrest the world with my M. I did say zany, didn't I?
After high school, I finally decided to barf out the inculcated art of writing and took to typing, which literally means punching out the keys of my keyboard. Typing is an art only in terms of speed and accuracy, but writing is an art inside out. Despite the fact that once upon a time I had to first write out my thoughts on paper and then get them typed, which just doubled the manual and intellectual labour involved, I soon got glued to my keyboard. Now, I don't have to handwrite all my articles, which must come as incredible news, but it's not. Firstly, I have no clue what must be done with my collection of fifty-odd, not so cheap pens that I gathered in my luxurious stationary-shopping sprees. Secondly, I have forgotten how to write.
Last Saturday, I appeared for my SAT and I had prepared only for the Math section. I'll have to take the IELTS anyway, so the English section didn't matter much. However, English is my favourite subject; it will be an embarrassment to fare miserably in that one. All the circumstances nearly made me cry. SAT isn't computer based, so I had to write my essay with a pencil. Guess what? It was the worst I ever wrote since fifth grade, despite the twenty-five minutes we got, which in my case is ample time. I don't think my essay was even graced with an appropriate closure. Of all the sections there were, I blew up the Writing. Don't blame me. My No. 2 pencil refused to move. Oh, and did I mention the other faux pas? My handwriting, even the maniacally practised 'M', wound up looking ghastly. My obsession for beautiful handwriting hasn't stopped blubbering ever since the SAT. I feel like one of those little boys infamous among teachers for his terrible scribbles.
Typing, which in the digital era is synonymous with writing, is a blessing - a camouflage for ridiculously undecipherable handwritings - until the need to write kicks in. Also, it sets a wider gap between those who can afford the computer and those who are stuck in impoverished, resourceless government-run charity schools. Plus the advantages of spell-check in a computer makes it impossible to know how to spell 'thief' and 'receive'.
Yet, according to the pundits, the typed word, a.k.a. the written word, is a blessing. Only if it hadn't ruined my SAT.
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