Well, I never write in pen, so I don’t really have a favorite.
However I do have a favorite pencil. Purple pencil. I lost purple pencil in May of 2002. But wherever he is, I’d like to thank him for helping me through pre-cal and for writing out that first long-hand, high school version of my novel.
Since then, I have taken a more egalitarian approach to pencil ownership so as to spare myself emotional trauma. I buy Paper Mate PhD pencils, both old and new style, and I have lost two black ones, one blue one, one red one, one cherry red barrel one, and I’ve smashed one green pencil in a fold up couch. Of those that have survived…here is how they monitor my morning routine.
Midnight II and Jade II live on my nightstand. Their erasers are defective for some reason I can’t figure out, but they work fine for keeping track of my reading journal and my one-line a day journal, which I fill out in the previous evening. They see me wake up and hit snooze a couple times, or alternately drop my phone on my face while I check the news in bed.
I finally get up and go to the kitchen to heat up a cup of water. Then I pad into my study to read through Facebook and check emails while I sip my water and stop sneezing—allergies are the worst. Pencil Onyx III watches this from his perch in the front of my book bag, and occasionally he escapes to help me write down my morning thoughts. Pencils Michelangelo, Donatello, Leonardo, and Raphael (all cherry red barrels with shiny star stickers to designate name) watch from my corner writing desk, although recently, they’ve started hiding in my book bag, lap top case, or jacket pockets.
Following that, I do some kind of at-home exercise, turn on my aquarium and herb garden lights and wander aimlessly, as monitored by Silver Streak or Blue Streak, the pencils that live alternately in my kitchen or in my work-out notebook. They are not PhD pencils, but they were Christmas presents from my parents, so they get positions of honor.
Then, you know, I shower and get dressed. Midnight and Jade make snarky comments about the poor fit of my trousers and how I should really just buy some new jeans or something. And finally I walk back and forth through my apartment like eight times, collecting my keys, wallet, phone, lunch, books, and Onyx and we generally go on down to campus.
Anyone else have bizarre attachments to writing implements?