I finally got my lost package of office supplies from FedEx. After unpacking the box, I had the urge to sharpen a pencil that I ordered for one of the engineers. I haven't used a wooden pencil in a long time. I think the last time I used one was way back in middle school. I remember when they gave us the list of things to buy for the next school year and erasable ballpens were on it, it felt like we were coming of age. It was a symbol that society trusted us eleven-year-olds, somehow- that we could declare something in ink and use the pen eraser only when we were really sure we wanted to take back what we said. That was a great thing. Using a ballpen for the first time meant no turning back- no more pink spots on schoolwork or holes from constant erasing. Ballpens meant you had to be sure you had enough conviction to give the world a piece of your mind. It's just like learning how to drive and getting your own car. Public transportation, then, becomes ghastly. Or when you get your first paycheck, there's no way you can ask your parents for extra cash unless you have a face made of pigskin.
On second thought, the paycheck part is a bit overboard. I'd still ask my dad for money, just for ol' time's sake. Walking to places ain't so bad either. Not all places, though. Everything in SoCal is miles apart. But pencils, I can still do without. I have a lot of conviction and enough on my mind to ink and blot everywhere I go.
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