For somebody who went to college back when only people whose thing was computers had computers in their dorm rooms, I’d like to think I’ve been pretty fine with the digital world coming along and changing everything. Because obviously—putting aside the whole loss-of-privacy issue—it has changed so much for the far, far better. I love my iPad, and the wonder that is Spotify, and ordering a book and having it just appear, like magic. I have even become—somewhat to my horror—one of those people who prefers texts and emails over actually calling a person on the phone, which now seems as forward as dropping by a friend’s home unannounced.
But at the core I am, and shall remain, analog. I like writing things down on paper, for instance. Things like grocery lists, or the name of the book that a friend has just mentioned, or somebody’s email address (unspeakably un-modern, that last one). I also write things down because I am at that age when you just start forgetting things—sometimes quite important things. And I write all of these things down on these absolutely itsy soft-cover notebooks, which I carry with me always, like a middle-aged version of a blankie. They’re super-lightweight and literally the size of the palm of one’s hand and come two to a pack and in a ton of different colors (I favor the yellow and vaguely Hermes-ish orange; so easy to spot in a jam-packed handbag).