Thursday, July 22, 2010

reviving a dead horse again

I have edited my previous post because it could be read with a tone of spite. That was not my intention, though statistically about half of the two people who read this blog assumed it was angry/negative/hurtful/etc. Since i knew it wasn't spiteful, I assume you, dear other reader, thought it was.

My apologies to the blog I linked to, I did not realize he would take it personally. The purpose of my writing is simply to express myself, share my thoughts, critique culture (esp Christian pop culture), etc. without tearing others down. I admit the post was not loving, and so it has been changed. Everything I said was true, though it could have been expressed more kindly.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Captive and Free: a story of pens

There are two types of pens in this world. Those which are captive, and those which are free. They are easy enough to tell the difference: captive pens cost more.

We pay a premium to purchase pens that don’t seek every opportunity to be free. Like humans, a pen’s first inclination is one of independence. And, like humans, a pen’s will must be thwarted for the greater good. ’Tis truly a loving pen who whispers into your ear “your will, not mine be done”. I have one such pen. She is a Waterman Phileas. Medium nib. Font of wonderment. I yearn to feel my hand glide across the page with her smooth strokes. This feeling is only intensified by the fact that I am frequently forced to use a cheap pen because I did not treat my philly well.

You see, a part of her fell off (the back endcap), not my fault, and I foolishly thought it was stuck inside the cap. My hasty solution: grasp at the apparent gold inset ring I thought was stuck with a dentist hook. Sure this would have pulled it out were it there. But it weren’t. Instead, I scratched the bejeebies out of her cap. And so, she plugs. If I choose not to write with her for a couple hours, I am assured an ink-stained tongue due to my feeble attempts at freeing her precious spout of the scratch-induced clog.

There are cheaper pens, of course. But they are wont to evade your every grasp. Even now, my normally-full pen cup only holds three of these utensils. Even the nicer disposable pens wander off, though they seem to be semi-domesticated, and last a while longer. More like a feral pen than the wild ball point stik, my second choice (pilot G-2) have all fled from my desktop. I have searched my office for any remnant of their presence, but they are gone, seeking shelter in the hands of someone who considers them to be a “good” pen. That is, worthy to be stolen from a church.

There is no real point of this post, other than to describe the nature of pens. Only a slight recommendation: try a good pen sometime. Not a cartridge pen, not a ball point, but a true fountain pen. They will not leave or forsake you, you will not let them. They will be predestined by their owner for good works. You must learn how to guide them across the pages of their long lives, maximizing the inkflow and minimizing their wear. A good, submitted pen is worth its weight in gold.

p.s. feel free to read into this post as much or little spirituality as you like.