My recent favoritism to the insomniac’s lifestyle has drawn me closer to mindless tasks that the strong would cringe at braving. Yet somehow, in the hush of the evening, these tasks seem more appealing. Perhaps because nobody will know if you fail at them.
The objective for the evening: cleaning my office. Now, to most this might only seem to be a drab, nuisance of a task. Nothing more than a necessity. But my office, conjures the spirit of my mother, a creative project master with the paraphernalia piled in every crevasse to prove it. Tonight I sat among my unfinished art projects, and breathed in the joy of a women realizing she has transformed into her mother. Better yet, after years of teenage arguing, I’m quite satisfied with that revelation.
Upon realizing the project of cleaning my office needed a more ambitious timeline than one evening, I looked around to find one small part of the chaos I could bridle. I decided to organize my writing utensils. A containable task among the shambles. Pens in one pile; markers, highlighters and pencils each in their own place. That’s when I realized I had a hundred pencils for every one of the others. I haven’t written in pencil in years. Why so many? A pencil is simple enough… Lead (no longer really lead). Plastic (those wooden things are arcaic nowadays). And the timeless eraser at its crown (funny that the eraser withstood the test of time).
I guess I stopped using them; though, I am not certain why. Pencil markings are messy. If you write long enough, black smudges will glove your hand; if you write longer, your hand will transfer evidence of its presence everywhere as your hand drags across the page. Transferring smudges is not always bad. In children’s artwork, these smudges create the most precious drawings complete with baby fingerprints shaped like dainty flowers. But, the miraculous thing about pencils is in its crown. You can keep the good marks, and simply erase away the mess.
I’ve been writing in pen for several years now. Permanent and heavy. It reeks of absolute professionalism and confidence. Not much hope of the good stuff rubbing off on anything or anyone else. Not much hope of erasing the bad either.
I’ve been writing in pen too long.
This year, I resolve to write more in pencil.