This blog is linked to my author web site. It's an outlet, an update, a place for a writer to rant and perhaps take solace in the fact that there are other writers out there experiencing the same joy, malaise, exhaustion, etc.
I intended to write a lengthy post on the state of society, and texting, and kids, and members of society giving money to kids for texting, but then became so depressed about the topic that I popped a couple of aspirin and went to bed.
So, the texting thing is old news by now.
I also entertained the idea of starting to train for next year's texting competition. I don't text much. Don't have an unlimited texting plan. I think every time a friend sends me a text and I respond I get hit with a 20 cent fee. I probably shouldn't own a Blackberry just for that reason. It's overkill. I check the Sox scores, scroll through email, use the calendar feature (barely), and once in a while place a call for pizza on the ride home.
I'm a digital immigrant.
So, texting...well, I'm up to nine words a minute. It's really not a dexterity issue, I assure you. It's more to do with repeatedly pausing to push my glasses back up on the bridge of my nose. My eyes tend to water staring down at the tiny keys, fingers nimbly flying over the wrong letter. I'm wearing out the backspace button.
I'm also trying to get the lingo down, too, to help expedite the texting process.
rofl: rolling on floor laughing
lmao: laughing my a$$ off
ttyl: talk to you later
mctikm: my carpal tunnel is killing me
Etc, etc, etc.
I wonder about our kids.
Between texting 13,000 messages a month, carrying backpacks that weigh 40 pounds, and sucking down Monster energy drinks, most members of our younger generation appear destined to become hyped-up cripples with lobster claws for hands.
Not a pretty picture at the old folks home.
Right now I'm pecking away (two-finger style) at my laptop. No paper, no pen. Just keys and a screen.
When I was a kid, I would sit in the backyard writing with a pen in a notebook. I could spend hours writing stories and tales, incorporating the sights and sounds around me.
Do kids even know what that's like anymore? Is it possible that in the not so distant future we may be looking at a generation that never holds a book? Never composes a written piece on paper? Never grips a pencil, licks the tip, and pours out their mind at a frenzied pace on a pile of white-lined paper, scrawling it out all in cursive replete with crossouts and arrows and circles?
Is that a bad thing? A good thing? Is it progress?
And if so, at what cost? $50,000 for speed texting? Really? Give me a pen, a notebook, and slow cursive any time.
I think I'm going to take two aspirin and call it a night.