Photo by Boopsie Daisy
Some days I am not sure which I like more: paper or pens. I started being very particular about pens circa age 12, when I was high into my note-passing-in-class phase. I had discovered the difference between the Bic fine point and the standard medium point and how the fine point turned my handwriting from clumsy and chunky into loopy and feminine. I wasn’t going to touch a medium point pen again if could help it. Even if they didn’t make the fine point in pink or purple, and let me tell you, that was a big sacrifice.
As I could find finer and finer pointed pens, I got happier and happier. A roommate at college had fine point gellyroll pens in every colour under the sun, and I think that could have been the biggest reason to housesit for her one summer. The flat was teeny-tiny, the oven didn’t turn on and the drain clogged like seventy-two times a day, but I could sit next to a sunny window with approximately one-hundred-and-sixty-three shades of fine point pen and doodle and write to my heart’s content.
I could only write in my teacher planner with the 0.4 pens from Paperchase, and I colour coded my grading sheets with the 0.5 because they came in the much better colour scheme of aqua, pink and purple.
And all my scrapbook pages are finished with this pen, which I buy by the box and have in a dedicated drawer that is exactly the height of my right hand as I stand at my table.
Of course right now, I am working on things involving fountain pens, with extra schwoops and curls. With ink in a pot. It’s all rather lovely.
xlovesx16 February 2008