I don’t like 3-D movies. I might have thought they were sort of cool when they first came out, but that never outweighed the fact that they give me a headache and hurt my eyes. I find it very distracting to wear big, bulky glasses when I sit down to enjoy a movie and even more distracting to see a blue and red aura surrounding all the characters on the screen. And honestly, there are only so many ways you can incorporate a fist being thrown out at the crowd. Don’t screenwriters find it slightly irritating to have to limit their scripts by the amount of random things they can have pop out of the screen?
Alright, so maybe my problem isn’t just with 3-D movies. It just seems to me like a lot of technology development these days is aimed at fixing things that aren’t broken. As I write this, there are probably hundreds of engineers developing 3-D movie equipment. And it’s not even just movies anymore—we’re talking phones, computers, and basically anything with a screen. I know I can’t be the only person who appreciates good old-fashioned flat films, but I also know that my kind must be getting increasingly outnumbered, because the 3-D fad seems to be growing at an exponential rate. It seems possible that my children will grow up never having seen a movie not in 3-D, and I think that’s a shame. I understand that it is a passion for some people, but couldn’t some of those engineers direct their energies toward laser surgery or something?
The 3-D takeover is something I could probably live with if I have to, but I am an unyielding opponent of the Nook. When I read, I like to be able to manually turn my pages, annotate things I like, and measure my progress by how far my bookmark moves toward the end. It’s a whole sensory experience, really. I love looking back at my old books, seeing the little lines in their bindings, and remembering exactly where and when I read them. They take on character that way. I hate to think that paper books are going extinct because we are constantly striving to develop new ways of doing old things. I just can’t believe that there are people who prefer to stare at a screen than the page of a book. Sure, throwing an e-reader in your beach bag is a lot easier than carrying a library on your shoulders. But libraries look so much classier in a home. Admit it: you know you’ve always wanted to have the opportunity to show a guest your private library and claim, truthfully or otherwise, “I’ve read every one of these books.” Your Kindle will never give you that. It just won’t.
Now, admittedly, I am a really big fan of my iPod. I can’t complain about it too much. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t wish we still made mix tapes from time to time. Receiving a playlist over the Internet just isn’t the same as finding a scribbled-on compilation CD of love songs in your locker. I’ve never actually had that experience, but movies make it look like it’s pretty fun. I bet it would be nice to hold a tangible CD in your hands and know that someone handpicked the 12-14 songs that conveyed exactly the message he or she wanted. And I’ve just completely given up on the idea of having someone standing outside my window with a stereo blasting music, “Say Anything” style. I’m pretty sure people don’t even own boomboxes anymore. That’s one thing that iPods can’t do as well. Technology is meant to make things better, but it also takes the rough humanity out of everything it touches.
The thing about living in a society that is constantly moving forward is that we never really get the chance to appreciate the present. Books are good, and movies are good. Why do we have to revolutionize them? There are some classics that are just meant to stay unchanged. I have yet to meet a person who doesn’t love to play the original Pac-Man. And, as much as Photoshop-professionals impress me, I would prefer to see a hand-made painting in a museum any day. Technology definitely has its place in the science world, in the health world, and even in the entertainment world. But honestly, I think there are just some things that should be left alone.