Technological Dependancy
My greatest realisation since embarking on my journalism course is that I am utterly useless without a computer.
When I signed up for the course, I pictured myself in a plush classroom with computers and swivel chairs. Instead, we have a tiny room with plastic seats and are forced to communicate thorough the quaint, old fashioned medium of exercise book and biro.
I'm not complaining, but I've found my handwriting skills have deserted me and I have lost the ability to think unless I'm staring into a screen. Even the purchase of a spiral bound Sex Pistols notebook hasn't been enough to entice my latent calligraphic talents back into the fore.
I should have realised it a while ago when I was writing a letter to a friend. The only way I could manage was to produce a web page and then hit print.
It's not just there for the serious things in life, either. How on earth people used to get through the working day without emails from friends in the real world is quite beyond me.
So I now have a paranoia about power cuts. It's not just a case of being without heat and light anymore, it's about a complete detachment from the world. No gossip, no news, no bitching, no shopping ... brrrr, it doesn't bear thinking about. I think I need to purchase a generator.
3 comments:
Tell it like it t-i-s Miss It.
I used to pride myself on being a gentleman of letters loving nothing better than writing letters to mates in the Americas which would run into double figures sometimes.
I had to address an envelope today and it looked like something from a special needs English lesson.
I hang my head in shame.
Yuk - plastic seats = sweaty buttocks, as I have found to my cost in the Retro several times now. I always insist on fabric.
I'm with Dogdriller on the seats.
I also find it hard to write nowadays, and get annoyed that a red wavey line doesn't appear under my spelling mistakes.
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