I still love writing my reminders and tasks on paper. I find the writing experience itself very enjoyable. I enjoy the feel of pen or pencil sliding against and, sometimes, almost digging into the paper. I enjoy quietly scolding myself for my bad penmanship and I like to secretly gloat when I occasionally get it right.
Take note: I said “on paper.” I prefer writing on bits of paper and loose notebook pages. It’s chaotic, ugly, and light years away from the organized-systematic-girl that I look like and want to be, but I guess it’s the kind of tragedy I can live with. I have planners, but they just never seem to have enough space. I have notebooks, but they remind me so much of high school so they crush me.
Another thing I love about writing on paper is that, based on experience, it helps my memory better. You know how they say that when you take notes in class, knowing that you wrote a certain thing can sometimes help you remember the thing itself? In your mind, you automatically flip the pages of the notebook and glimpse at the upper right area–yes, you’re pretty sure you wrote it there–near the big, bold header written in red.
I can’t help but feel bad whenever I choose to write on paper, though. It feels like I’m betraying my smartphone. But it’s not my fault that even if my phone is in my hand 80% of the time, I never remember to look at the damn notes that I painstakingly organized and typed the night before. Whereas no matter how small my sticky notes, receipts, and bus tickets are and no matter how deeply they are buried in my giant lola/diaper bag, I always know when there are notes I have to look at.
My sister is watching a movie on Cinema One. Sam Pinto is a sort of project coordinator working with the son of the President on a big project. As if a girl who looks like that would rather work 9 to 5 to earn.