I know that the iPad and other devices like it (eReader, netbooks, etc.) are supposed to be advancements in technology, designed to make people's lives easier, bit in a lot of ways, my life has become more challenging because I'm trying so hard to incorporate this piece of technology into my routine. I've found that in doing so, I've had to rework and/or delete many of the habits that help me function on a day to day basis. For example, I can no longer doodle when I take notes if I want to do it on the iPad. I've scoured the app store looking for something that will simulate a blank notebook which I could easily type notes and doodle on, but I've found nothing. The apps that I have found for just doodling (I've tried out 3 different ones) are really more like the "Paint" program on a computer than drawing on paper. As much as I've practiced, I still find it incredibly difficult to draw or even to write legibly on the iPad (or with the "Paint" program). I spent the entire hour of last class trying to sketch a really simple doodle of our classroom, something that would have taken maybe 5 minutes with pen and paper, and by the end of class, I still hadn't figured out how to make the tables proportionate to each other. For the first few weeks of school, I took notes in all of my classes with the iPad "Chapters" app, which allows for typing in a variety of fonts but not doodling. Around maybe week three, a sketchbook somehow snuck into my bookbag, and my inner doodler had this kind of vicious awakening where I didn't take notes at all for about two days and instead I just doodled throughout all of my classes. At this point, I'm trying to strike a balance to appease my inner doodler and to make use of the iPad. In classes where the teachers draw a lot of charts, I write my notes by hand because it's really difficult to draw a chart on the iPad without having to import it from one program to another. In classes where the teacher talks really fast, I use the iPad because it's faster for me to type than to write.
In a lot of ways, I sympathize with Corlis Benefideo, especially when he is labelled "an obstructionist," because I feel like in a lot of ways I am my own obstructionist; the habits that are ingrained into me get in the way of my ability to surrender to this faster, more convenient way of doing things.
I am an avid list-maker. I got the "Easy Task" app, which allowed me to put all of my homework assignments, chores, and whatever else I felt the need to put in a to-do list into one space. It even allows me to rank the importance of each task on a scale of 1-5. For some reason, however, I have taken to writing to-do lists on my dresser in Sharpie, as well as programming them into the "Easy Task" app. There is something immensely satisfying for me about crossing items off a tangible to-do list that the "Easy Task" app just can't capture. Also, with all of these tasks written on a rather large piece of furniture in my room, anytime I'm in my room, I am accosted by this brightly colored list of things that I should be doing. The closest that the "Easy Task" app gets to grabbing my attention is a little red number that sometimes shows up to indicate the number of tasks that are due that day or that are overdue. As much as I've tried to train myself to perpetually monitor this app, some part of me apparently wants to be oblivious to what I am supposed to be doing because I haven't yet been able to get in the habit. Surprisingly enough, I don't carry my dresser around with me all day, and I do carry my iPad with me; so, the iPad is where all of these tasks are first recorded. I do find it convenient that I can just pull out my lightweight all-in-one to-do list/calendar/notebook/Internet source whenever I need to.
That being said, I get this terrifying crippled feeling whenever I'm in a place that doesn't have Wi-fi, and I feel an overwhelming need to check my email or look up facts about Pope Joan or Iceland or something. I swear, I think of more things that I need to do involving the Internet when I don't have access to it than I ever think of when I have no problem connecting. I'm probably not the only one who gets this sense of panic when the Internet is unavailable. I think that my generation, as a whole, is used to instant gratification, and when we don't get what we want as rapidly as we're used to, it's hard to handle.
Anyway, something else that struck me when I was reading this story was the amount of personal detail that went into Corlis's maps. He drew them meticulously by hand, with more intricate detail than any map of which I'm aware, and yet he lost his job as a cartographer for the government because he did not work quickly enough to appear bureaucratically valuable. Mr. Trevino was taken aback by the personal detail and "the soul" in Mr. Benefideo's work because he felt that it was so rare, a kind of lost art. I found this comparable to something that happened to me a few weeks ago. Facebook notified me that one of my friends (not a particularly close friend, just someone I'd had a few classes with) was having a birthday. I went to his Facebook wall to wish him a happy 20th but decided against it when I saw that his wall was already strewn with happy birthdays from his other 100 Facebook friends. Because this was during my doodling rampage, I decided to hand-make him a birthday card. I gave the card to him the next day in class, and he seemed confused but pleasantly surprised. At the end of class the thanked me for the card, saying that he really appreciated the personal touch, that none of his other friends had gotten or made him anything for his birthday, and that the card made his day because of that. I probably spent about 10 minutes making this card, which is maybe 9 1/2 minutes longer than I would have spent typing "Happy Birthday" in a Facebook post, but I think that the extra 9 1/2 minutes were worth it. The personal touch with birthday cards has been dying out for awhile, though, not just with Facebook posts but with the generic Hallmark happy birthdays before that. However, if all of the birthday boy's friends had taken the time to hand-make him birthday cards, my crappy card would not have been very special or meaningful. I really don't know what I would do if I got as many hand-made birthday cards every year on my birthday as I do wall posts... Wallpaper my kitchen with them? Save them forever in a shoebox in my closet? I don't know.
I also thought it was really interesting how much work Corlis put into studying the places before he actually created the maps. To other cartographers, it may have seemed like a lot of unnecessary work, but to Corlis the process was completely essential to the creation of his project, his vision. I identified because I go through similar processes before I write any big assignments. If I'm writing from a text, I always print the text and write all over it until all of my ideas are on the paper with the text (unless it's a book, then, if I own the book, I write in it, if not, I use a separate notebook or write lightly in pencil). Next, I write a very skeletal outline of what I want to say. After I've rewritten the outline several times with enough details added in, I start writing my paper, either by hand or on my typewriter. This forces me to re-type my work and thus re-read it, hopefully catching any errors and working out any clarity issues. That being said, it takes me a very long time to write things. It's probably not the most efficient way to do things, but for me, the process helps me to work through all of my ideas, to organize my thoughts, and to go through a series of revisions before I ever begin writing. In order to write this blog, I kind of condensed this process, but I can already tell that this blog isn't going to be as organized or concise as I would like it to be. It's already sort of stream-of-consciousness in some places...
I particularly liked the conclusion of the story because I felt like Corlis was talking directly to me when he was saying, "You represent a questing but lost generation of people... But the real question, now, is what will you do? ...don't make the mistake of thinking you, or I or anyone, knows how the world is meant to work. The world is a miracle, unfolding in this pitch dark." Really, it was this giant "aha!" moment for me where it felt like Lopez just reached out to me and said, "Holly, chill out. You're not doing anything wrong by using your iPad and pen and paper. There is no 'right' way to do things; do whatever feels most right to you." For some reason I've been really stressed out by trying to use the iPad whilst staying true to my own habits, as idiosyncratic as they may be. This story has reminded me that the iPad is really just an experiment. No one knows how the world is meant to work, and therefore, no one knows how we are meant to work in the world. I can decide whether using the iPad is right for me, but I can also choose to use a notebook, a computer, a typewriter, a planner, or yes, Robert, even a stone tablet, if something else works better for me.
(As an end note, I am typing this on my laptop [shame on me, I know] because when I try to type it on my iPad, the New Post screen will open, but it won't let me type anywhere other than the title box. It lets me highlight the page, and then it freezes. I don't know why I am having this problem, and Google doesn't seem to know, either, so for now, posting on my laptop is what's working for me.)
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