Once upon a time, I had pretty handwriting.
I might even call it artistic. My doodles in high school? Kinda epic. I hand addressed all the invitations to our wedding instead of paying a calligrapher, not because I could do calligraphy, but because I could write well enough… and I wanted to save that money for more booze at the reception.
A while back, my mother brought over a bag full of things she’d saved throughout my childhood, and somehow she wound up with a binder full of notes from my freshman year in college.
Yes, kids, back in my day we had to WRITE WITH PENS ON PAPER during class. There was no bringing a “laptop” or an “iPad” to class. We didn’t even know how to text back then. We actually had to CALL PEOPLE.
I never realized how much I’ve digressed in the writing-things-on-paper-with-a-pen department until I saw what once was right in front of me.
Oh sure, it wasn’t my best work, but these were merely notes I haphazardly jotted down in preparation for a final, and already 100x more legible than what I can produce with a pen and paper today.
Take, for example, the notes I used to help prepare for the Twitter party I hosted last night:
Is it cursive? Is it print? Is it hieroglyphics?
You’ll maybe see that sometimes I can’t be bothered to write the slash part of the letter “i” and simply put a dot in random places.
My fingers are trying to move fast but my brain is all, “SLOW DOWN, the ‘M’ has TWO humps!” And my fingers are all, “SON OF A BITCH, can we just type this shit?!”
And then my brain is all “Wait… how do we spell that again?” and my fingers are all “YOU ARE SLOWING US DOWN. WHO NEEDS PROPER SPELLING? THAT’S WHAT SPELL CHECK IS FOR.”
And then my brain is like “Why can’t we stay between the lines? Where are the margins? Why do I hurt?” and my fingers are like “Just delete it! Oh wait, right, WE CAN’T. I’ll just scribble the hell out of it and we’ll move on, OKAY?”
So, in like 10 years I’ve regressed to handwriting worse than I think I ever started out with. I’ve seen my early, early work. My kindergarten letters, though lacking flair and style, were at least legible and consistent.
It’s all in direct correlation to the amount of time I spend vomiting the contents of my head by way of keyboard, of course.
I blame you, Internet. I blame you.