Old School Appreciation

A couple of years ago, I made a life-changing decision to purchase a Kindle, which I believed was the epitome of modern innovation. The convenience it offered was unparalleled, as I bid farewell to the hassle of searching for bookmarks, and the built-in backlight made late-night reading a breeze. The exceptional battery life further solidified my admiration for this digital marvel. However, as time went on, I discovered that my love for physical books remained unyielding. There was an inexplicable allure in the tangible experience of holding an actual hard copy, immersing myself in its unique scent, and relishing the satisfaction of turning the pages with my hand instead of a mere flick of the finger.

A vintage-looking copy of Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein (Book Outlet)

When I embarked on my university journey, I decided to put this preference to the test. I alternated between reading digital copies of my textbooks and using traditional hard copies. Inevitably, the latter won me over. I found that I could engage with the texts more deeply, and the ability to jot down notes in the margins proved invaluable. Whenever I encountered a poem or text that was only accessible digitally, I made a point to print it out, enabling me to delve into the material more effectively and make meaningful annotations.

I also purchased a simple, inexpensive Chromebook for school. It perfectly met my needs—a lightweight, compact device that allowed me to work on essays and engage in writing endeavours. Though I tried using it to take notes during classes, I quickly reverted to the time-honoured method of handwriting notes. The act of physically writing helped me retain information better. After each class, I diligently recopied my notes, enriching them with additional ideas or relevant page numbers to bolster my future arguments. These meticulously crafted notes became my steadfast companions during the intense periods of midterms and finals, playing a pivotal role in my academic success.

My appreciation for old school didn't stop there. I recently told my boyfriend that I prefer streaming services such as Netflix over DVDs. After spending time at his place and revisiting the world of DVDs, I developed a newfound appreciation for their charm. The inclusion of bonus features and the effort required to access a specific movie contributed to a heightened sense of enjoyment. It reminded me of the days when I would eagerly explore the horror section of the local video store or diligently search for rare anime titles. The satisfaction of finally stumbling upon a long-desired VHS or DVD was unparalleled.

A VHS copy of the movie "Back To The Future'' auctions for $75,000. (CTV)

While I am an avid user of Spotify, curating playlists with my favourite tunes, I'm equally proud of my collection of vinyl records and my cherished record player. To my delight, even my kid has developed a preference for vinyl over CDs and digital music. There's something magical about the nostalgic sound of scratches and pops that enhances the music experience, making it feel more authentic and rich.

Recalling a significant milestone in my life, the purchase of my condo brought mixed feelings. Although I was elated with its spaciousness and three bedrooms—considerably rare for a condo—it irked me that everything inside was modern and devoid of history. However, my perspective changed after visiting my boyfriend's small Ontario town, where I was captivated by the charming houses in his neighbourhood. From elegant Victorians to wartime houses, each structure held a sense of history and character, and I couldn't help but revel in their appreciation.

My living room in my condo

Through these experiences, I've come to realize that sometimes, embracing the old ways can be just as gratifying, if not more so, than indulging in the latest technological advancements. The satisfaction derived from tangible interactions, the pursuit of elusive treasures, and the enchantment of history offer a profound reminder that "new" doesn't always equate to "better."