The Meaning of Life Can be Found in a Pen

What is it about that little tiny stick of ink that inspires, takes hold of the soul and forces the bearer on a journey. Armed with such a sword, I always feel as if I can take on the world. It is interesting to look at a thesaurus entry for the word pen; one finds such lovely words as forge, discover, imagine, and poetize. An exceptional pen embodies all of these things and more. A pen of superior quality is creativity incarnate. You know what I’m talking about. A writing instrument so fine that the ink runs smoothly onto the paper like a brook gently meandering through a lush meadow. The heavens open up. Angels sing. However, one can also find terms such as dungeon, vault, crypt, imprison, and jail in the same entry. A poorly crafted pen is no better than a jail cell. It confines at every turn. The ink restrains. Our voices wind up shut inside of us. Such a pen is all that is wrong with the world today. Those of you who understand this litany surely recognize my need to acquire exceptional specimen at all costs. I have been known to spirit away such fine instruments from doctors offices, banks, my bosses desk and even from friends’ houses. Like a pack rat, I leave behind a lesser version in its place and go on, giddy about my new armament, looking for a blank canvas to give voice to my soul.