So...I am unusually attached to my pens. I love them. I use them each day. But not just for anything. The ink is precious to me. These aren't just any pens. Its not like some UTA bus pen that you get for for free along with mints off a table in the Wilk, and its definitely not the kind of pen that that you would tape a plastic spoon to and set by a cash register. No, they are Pilot Precise V5 Rolling Ball pens. They come in seven colors: black, red, blue, green, purple, light blue and pink. To offer some insight into the emotional attachment I have toward my pens, I will share a journal entry from India. It was the first night in Bangalore. I was sharing a room with Nate, Ashley and Melanie. I think I was a little troubled by a few things and so when my pink pen died, it was a breaking point.
Oh, and two disclaimers: I don't really feel that the loss of a pen is comparable to a the loss of a loved one. That was just me getting a little carried away in my emotions. And I don't believe in using the word "freakin'" and later crossed that word out of my entry. Sorry. Anyway, on to the illustrative entry:
8 November 2007
"Happy freakin' Divali. My pink pen did. Its like a death in the family only it effects my daily life more directly. I love my pens. I use them to 1) write in my journal and 2) mark in my Book of mormon--it is what makes my most valuable possessions precious. But behold, "now [it] is gone and my sorrow cannot bring [its] return." But losing it put me into a wierd mood. In the words of Ashley, "You are freak." A penless, awekward freak mourning the loss of an inanimate object. Dang. now its time to get onto my urine-infested exucse for a matress on the floor that costs me stinkin' $7. Okay, now let's be honest. I'm in India. I'm with friends. I am surrounded by incredible experiences....But I really am sad about my pen...I'm too aware of my blessings to stay unhappy--even if my hands and lft leg are covered with the pink blood of a dear friend whose life was so unexpectedly cut short. It had so much ink yet to give...I really am sad about my pen. But life is good and I am blessed..."
Anyway, life with my pens is good. My sister Rachel got me a new pack for Christmas and I love them. I am presently using the red and black pens for the scriptures, black for class notes, and I alternate among colors in my journal entries. So there you have it. I love my pens. I've come a long way though. Afew years ago I wouldn't let other people touch or use my pens, but now I can share. Further, I have lost a few more pens since that night in Bangalore and it didn't catalyze a breakdown. But all the same, I love my pens.
2 comments:
hahaha, i was SO looking forward to this post. and you ARE a freak, let's just face it. and so am I...just for different reasons, haha. Happy freakin' Diwali.
O good grief! How can one so gifted as yourself be so wise beyond your years in some arenas of life and yet so utterly ridiculous and absurd in another? Do your parents understand what make you tick? I dare say not! O be wise . . . because for one thing, it is more becoming of you. From which parent did you pick up this tendancy for absurdity anyway? By process of elimination, my guess would not be your maternal side. :o)
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