The Times, it is a changin’
I hate change. I remember once when I was a little girl, my father was tucking me in, and he said something benign, like, “One day you’re going to be a big girl.” I was looking at my hands, my fingers, when he said this, and suddenly it hit me: My fingers are going to get bigger. They won’t always look this way.
I panicked. I liked my fingers. More than that, I couldn’t imagine what the change would bring. It made me hugely anxious.
Now my fingers are indeed bigger (though not that much, I’m sad to say), and that particular change, it turns out, was not catastrophic. But the New York Times web site—my homepage, for god’s sake—has an entirely new look. And once again that familiar sense of doom has me in its clammy grip. Why did they have to change?, my inner child whines. And why to a format so confusing and overlinked?
The New York Times makes me pop an extra Ativan
liz | 11:12 AM | Uncategorized
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