In
moments when technology malfunctions I wish I could fall back on the
'old ways' but that's not always possible because the old equipment
no longer exists (or there are no parts to help it function) or the
brain has adapted so well I can't remember how to use it and look at
it (if I still own such an antiquated item) with utter bewilderment,
and a growing sense of frustration.
When
it was the washing machine I wanted a mangle or a tub you manually
operate; when it was the flat-screen TV, I a wanted a box where to
change channels you had to get up and push the buttons; when it was
the kettle, I wanted one you could heat on the hob (and a hob you
could bring it to boil on) until it sung, rather than having to
resort to a saucepan; and when it was the laptop I yearned for a
manual or electronic typewriter. Just to be able to tap away, in
spite of more pressing concerns.
We've
been forced down this line and, for the most part, I detest it
because when it goes wrong you're screwed, and have to take measures
that are not as uncomplicated as they could be. Particularly if
you're a single woman of a certain mindset and of limited means,
including knowledge and confidence in these matters. Actually being
single and a woman is not important, though I do think it still means
you can be preyed upon or undermined, where sometimes even just being
labelled so can make you feel small. But who's doing the labelling
here? Oh, it's me! Hmm, interesting...
No,
I will not follow this diversion, as diverting as it might prove to
be because it could also be the undoing of me, and since this is
being drafted by pen on paper my words are going uncounted and the
space allotted to me is not the same as staring at a half-filled Word
document or typewritten page. I do not want to harshly (or hastily)
edit what I set down here now when I come to set it (and see it) in
print. Though I know already that will indeed be the case: I will
censor myself, cut or expand. We all do that, no, used to do that,
unwittingly or knowingly, because these days it seems some people
have removed those filters, from themselves and that of others. Is
that or isn't it a good thing?
It's
confusing, that's what it is. What can I say? What can't I say? What
will offend, even if that wasn't my intention? What will be
misconstrued from the slip of a tongue? and not from as is now
usually the case a slip of a finger since the words here will have
been dictated already to paper and I'll be merely copying.
I
will not change a line! But then again, I might, because I might not
be able to resist phrasing it better or doing away with it
altogether. I've even struggled not to do that when typing an
employer's letters. Are you sure you want to put it that way? Well,
okay...said with a shrug and a rising of eyebrows... you're the boss.
This
penning of words is rather freeing though I did have to adjust my
brain upon picking up the ballpoint. Thoughts directed by pen somehow
do not form the same as when directed by piano-playing fingers. And
it looks a bit of a mess with poorly developed letters, scrubbing
outs and interjected words. It's not so clean as a screen document
and has to be gone back over more often. Yet this was once my
standard practice: only committing handwritten papers to stark
typeface. How quickly that can change! It's as if I've taken up a new
sport that I'm, in a manner of speaking, not agile enough for. The
ballpoint is miles ahead, less concerned with what is written than
leaving a trail of black ink across the page. On the road (not Jack
Kerouac's) you might say: Eat my dust! A pencil (and subsequent
rubbing outs) would be a more suitable tool for that though.
I
really should come to a close as I think by now I'll have eaten up a
Microsoft Word sheet. And done so as a hare rather than as a
tortoise. The latter being the objective of this exercise: to get
tortoise
in somehow. I had banked on getting shell
in too. Maybe I still can...since I can only think and write at home,
when I'm alone, so if Alberto Manguel's private library is his
tortoise shell than home (wherever that might be) is most definitely
mine.
Picture credit: Tortoise-A, 1977, Maki Haku (source: WikiArt)
All posts published this year were penned during the last.
