In life, there are the good times and the not-so-good times. I'm sure this is not news to any of our students here at Granite State College. Things in my life are on the upswing. You'd think would be a good thing, but it makes me nervous. I've started checking over my shoulder. I mean, what goes up must come down, right? I have even started using a pencil.
I never write in pencil. Never. Not even to do crossword puzzles. I love writing in pen, making a permanent and confident mark, the ink soaking into the paper. Pencil implies weakness and wariness, not to mention math class. My sudden need for a pencil reinforces inability to enjoy the good times, and my anticipation of failure. Why make anything permanent when it's all going to get messed up anyway?! I'm looking at the pencil right now. I think it's laughing at me. Stupid pencil.
Why do I have such a problem enjoying the good times while they're here? There are several answers to that semi-rhetorical question that I won't go into here, but what I want to do right now is take a deep breath, relax, and attempt to embrace the pencil.
I am a work in progress and, like the pencil, I can try things out on a temporary basis, employing the eraser to make changes as needed. The changes won't always be clean on the page, but that's acceptable by most people--it's how pencils work. I like the idea of stopping every so often to sharpen the pencil to a nice, clean point, one that will inevitably snap, scare the crap out of me, and tear the paper. Hey, that's life. You just go sharpen your pencil again and try not press so hard the next time.
As our adult education courses begin this week in Claremont and Lebanon, I think maybe I'll keep using my pencil. So things aren't permanent, so things aren't perfect. Things are still good, and the pencil reminds me that, yes, I will stumble and I will smudge, but I am still moving forward and I should celebrate that. I can roll with the sucker punches life gives, and if I have a nice, sharp pencil with me, maybe I can even fight back.
I never write in pencil. Never. Not even to do crossword puzzles. I love writing in pen, making a permanent and confident mark, the ink soaking into the paper. Pencil implies weakness and wariness, not to mention math class. My sudden need for a pencil reinforces inability to enjoy the good times, and my anticipation of failure. Why make anything permanent when it's all going to get messed up anyway?! I'm looking at the pencil right now. I think it's laughing at me. Stupid pencil.
Why do I have such a problem enjoying the good times while they're here? There are several answers to that semi-rhetorical question that I won't go into here, but what I want to do right now is take a deep breath, relax, and attempt to embrace the pencil.
I am a work in progress and, like the pencil, I can try things out on a temporary basis, employing the eraser to make changes as needed. The changes won't always be clean on the page, but that's acceptable by most people--it's how pencils work. I like the idea of stopping every so often to sharpen the pencil to a nice, clean point, one that will inevitably snap, scare the crap out of me, and tear the paper. Hey, that's life. You just go sharpen your pencil again and try not press so hard the next time.
As our adult education courses begin this week in Claremont and Lebanon, I think maybe I'll keep using my pencil. So things aren't permanent, so things aren't perfect. Things are still good, and the pencil reminds me that, yes, I will stumble and I will smudge, but I am still moving forward and I should celebrate that. I can roll with the sucker punches life gives, and if I have a nice, sharp pencil with me, maybe I can even fight back.
Powered by Compendium
Comments for Writing in Pencil