/Death of Writing

I learned how to type before I ever got the hang of writing with pencil and paper. Growing up during the transition from paper to screens, schoolwork often felt split between two worlds. Math homework? Worksheets. Essays? Typed and printed. By the time I hit my later years, my school district had handed out Chromebooks to every student which eliminated 80% of worksheets.

I still remember fourth grade, juggling cursive lessons alongside learning how to type in computer class. Even back then, cursive felt like an outdated relic, while typing was framed as the essential skill for the future. What shocked me most was how many of my classmates couldn’t type properly - or even navigate a basic file system. I guess I took my own familiarity with computers for granted. After all, I’d been glued to a keyboard for years, from playing Flash games to grinding on Roblox. Naturally, I was the best typist in the class. It’s probably no surprise that this constant connection with keyboards eventually evolved into an obsession with mechanical ones.

But before I fell in love with mechanical keyboards, I was obsessed with another mechanical writing tool: mechanical pencils. For reasons even I can’t fully explain, I upheld this strange self-imposed rule of using a single pencil for the entire school year. This ritual probably started in middle school, and I stuck to it as best I could - though losing or breaking my pencil could easily ruin an entire week.

Here’s how my pencil lineup progressed over the years:

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• Pentel P205 – 6th Grade
• Uniball KURU TOGA – 7th and 8th Grades
• Pentel Graphgear 500 – 10th Grade
• Pentel Graphgear 1000 – 11th and 12th Grades

All of these were 0.5mm pencils, and I only upgraded when I found something truly better. That said, it wasn’t a perfect system. The Pentel Graphgear 1000, for example, became a favorite of mine despite its fatal flaw: the tip is notoriously fragile and prone to bending if dropped. To no one's surprise, I dropped it plenty.

Before I reveal my ultimate upgrade, I should mention my brief fling with fountain pens. I experimented with a few, including the LAMY Safari Clear and Kaweco Student, paired with Pilot Iroshizuku Kon-Peki ink. They were fun, but ultimately, pens never stuck. They’re bulky, messy, and just not as practical as pencils - especially for someone like me, who erases a lot. (Shoutout to the Pentel Hi-Polymer Eraser for always having my back.)

Fast-forward to college, where my trusty Graphgear 1000 still came along for the ride. But increasingly, I found myself carrying it around more than actually using it. Most of my work - especially as a Computer Science major - was done on my laptop or desktop. Pencil and paper only came out for math classes, and even then, it felt more like a formality than a necessity.

A couple of years ago, I finally upgraded to the Rotring 600, a German-made pencil that many consider the holy grail of drafting tools. It’s a beauty - weighty, precise, and impeccably designed. The shift from Japanese pencils to German ones feels like the difference between their respective car manufacturers. Japanese pencils, much like Japanese cars, are all about clean, practical design - focused on efficiency and reliability. German pencils, on the other hand, have a sharper, more aggressive edge, with an emphasis on precision engineering and a touch of luxury. The Rotring 600 embodies that philosophy. It doesn’t just feel like a pencil - it feels like a tool.

It’s been my go-to for over two years now, even surviving a tip-bending mishap. Unlike my old Graphgear, though, Rotring makes it easy to replace the tip. They also offer an upgraded model, the Rotring 800, with a retractable tip to prevent bending altogether. But for now, I’m content with my 600 and can’t justify spending $50 on an upgrade.

Still, I can’t help but wonder: what happens to my collection of writing tools after I graduate? As much as I love these pencils, the truth is, I barely use them anymore. Most of my work - whether as a software engineer, competitive gamer, or just someone who spends way too much time in front of a screen - is done digitally. Physical writing has become rare.

Sure, there are exceptions. Signing something, maybe? But even that’s increasingly done with digital signatures. Writing a letter? Maybe, but it feels like an edge case. I’m even struggling to think of hypothetical scenarios where pencils, pens, and paper are truly necessary anymore. They’ve been quietly phased out in favor of phones, tablets, and laptops.

I don’t think this shift is inherently bad - it’s just... change. And while part of me mourns the decline of writing by hand, another part of me sees it as inevitable. For now, my Rotring 600 sits on my desk, waiting for the occasional math problem or doodle, a relic of a time when writing felt more like a necessity than a choice.