Eric Zuniga, Campus Carrier deputy news editor

            This semester, I have spent innumerable hours staring into the dull glow of a computer screen, writing essays, completing readings and knocking out assignments. The sight of a student crouched over their laptop is just as common at Berry as that of deer gently grazing or skunks menacingly roving in the night. At any time of day, in any building, you will find somebody typing and tapping away at some sort of computer. Our brave new digital world offers many conveniences, but I want to pay tribute to one of humankind’s oldest and finest inventions: good old-fashioned pen and paper. 

            The stipulations of the modern world mean that, for the most part, we type up anything we need to write on our laptops. This is perfectly utilitarian, but I can never help but feeling that there’s something deeply unsatisfying about pressing shallow mechanical buttons to do something that can be as creative as writing. When you write with a pen in your hand, you literally shape each and every letter, word and sentence you put to paper—you have a far more direct connection to the writing. I have always found writing with a pen to be more natural and more effortless than typing, and I feel that this ease always comes through in the quality of the writing I produce. 

             It is nearly impossible to submit handwritten manuscripts as final assignments, and it may be impractical to even handwrite your first drafts, but I would suggest at least breaking out some paper and ink for your planning and notes. When you have nothing but pen and paper in front of you, there are no distractions—not even the clock that ticks in the corner of a laptop screen. The unbounded nature of handwriting fits the creative process of brainstorming perfectly. Your ideas become real objects, physical blots of ink that you can actually manipulate and draw connections between. 

            That same physicality is why I choose to buy print copies of any book I read and print out readings for my classes. Many view physical books as objects that should remain pristine, with some being wary of even simple spine wear, but I see printed publications as things to be marked all over. If you’re reading something actively for a class, the ease of making markings, underlines and comments on paper is tremendously helpful. Even when I read for pleasure, I often underline important or striking excerpts and make comments in the margins—it’s just satisfying to make your reading truly personal. 

            There’s one final quality, often lost in digital media, that is easily captured in print: beauty. Let’s face it, many websites out there today are ugly and hostile. Open a news article in a major publication and you’ll likely see a barrage of obtrusive ads and subscription prompts. Every page follows the same basic template so that different content can be shuffled in efficiently and expediently. It’s convenient, but there is still nothing that compares to the humanity of a meticulously designed magazine spread or the lifelike clarity of a well printed photograph. With digital technology, we can read, watch, communicate and write more efficiently and in more ways than ever before, but the ancient innovations of ink and paper still have their uses—and their elegance.