I absolutely love pens. I feel about my pens the same way some feel about their cars. They’re important to me, and when I find a special one, I cherish it until I either lose it or it gives up in exhaustion. Some might find it strange. I find it strange, but more and more I think that I should just accept it. Musicians are particular about their instruments. Artists are choosy about their paints and brushes. Why am I so unforgiving about my love of pens?
I like notebooks, too. I like anything you write on or with, really. I love going to the school section of the store (any store) and looking through their writing goods. I’ve spent a small fortune in pens. Loose-leaf paper, as well, though I almost never use it. I can’t think into a word processor like some, I have to write everything out longhand, so it’s necessary, right? Right? I’ve tried to break myself of the habit, but it’s so hard to pass up such pretty things. I romanticize things easily. Anything odd catches my eye. This entry, for example, was written on a loose-leaf sugarcane paper I found at the office supply store. I like this paper: it’s tan, not bleached blinding white. The boundary line colors blend easily into the surface, so it’s easier to read, and it’s so nice and crinkly when written on.
I’m very demanding of my pens. Nothing too cheap or flash, they must be dependable and comfortable in my hand. One of my favorites is the Zebra Gel Roller. It only comes in medium point, which I’m not fond of, but it’s so smooth. (*sigh* Love is never perfect.) My notebooks, too, I hold to similar standards. No high-priced journals for me. I must have something modest, functional, and, above all, college-ruled. Spirals aren’t good as regular writing notebooks, they bend too easy. Hard covers are more versatile than plain card, but they’re so hard to find. So many requirements! Only the stately composition book comes close. Do you know how hard it is to find a college-ruled composition book? They’re not cheap, either.