Today, in keeping with my routine, I opened the repurposed bag where I keep my ecosystem journals. I removed the bundle of journals, extracted the one I wanted from the white elastic band, and then reached in for my gray mechanical pencil I had started using because I really like the eraser. I was somewhat taken aback by what I found; eight writing implements. There were two gel pens, one Sharpie fine tip pen marker, three stick pens from hotels, one elegant ball point pen we got from the funeral home, and the sought after Bic mechanical pencil with the good eraser. There are people who carry a plethora of pens, pencils and markers, typically in a variety of colors, so that their written journal reflects their moods or ideas in some established color coding. This is not the case here. The presence of the mass of choices was not a reflection of my desire to encode my journal responses as the implements were all basically the same basic shades as either blue or black ink except, of course, for the pencil which was, as noted previously, there because of the eraser. What was immediately evident to me was the affirmation of my well-known habit of picking up rather than leaving behind, and the way it plays out when it comes to anything related to pens and pencils.
I realized I had this tendency during my many years of working in an office. There really are, I had discovered, two different kinds of people. If a person was at my desk to sign something, and there was a container of any kind for the person to pull the pen from, the person either slipped the pen into their pocket or returned the pen to the container. On a rare occasion, a person would pull their own pen from their pocket, sign the document and as conversation ensued leave the pen behind. This profile helped me begin to determine that people either picked something up or left something behind when it came to pens. When I opened my desk drawer it was easy to see what type of person I was as there was always a plethora of pens and pencils. Over the years, pens and pencils were carried along in my purse and accumulated in our home. By the time I retired, I had boxes of pens, and, if I sorted through them, I could almost identify where each pen came from and why.
Getting back to the pens in my bag, I could reasonably assume why I had each of the pens. There were two gel pens, one black and one blue, both fine tips. These were a reminder of the days when I was very particular about what pens I wanted to use. Gel pens have a smooth, almost elegant feel while writing. Black ink is crisp and definable, and this pen was obviously important because it was a Paper Mate Ink Joy Gel 0.7 with the traditional clicker. This meant I had purchased that pen. The other gel pen was a blue stick pen with cap. It was a uni, with a logo for Motivational Concepts, Inc. advertising specialties, and a phone number I would never have needed to call. Such is the case with all pens created with advertising. The company that distributes them counts on the pen being picked up by a person who carries it away and then leaves it somewhere to spread the word; they are apparently unaware that those of us who pick up pens seldom leave them somewhere other than in the desk drawer near the paper clips, rubber bands, partially used post it notes and aged mints wrapped in white glossy advertisements. I likely pocketed the blue uni stick pen based on the gel pen properties as I’m fairly certain I’ve never had a need for an advertising specialist.
Moving on to the hotel logo stick pens, these are an industry standard. They are found on the table in the hotel room along with a pad of paper topped with a hand signed note from the household staff hoping for a tip at the end of your stay. There were two with caps intact and one without a cap which was unusual as I don’t typically take the chance of getting ink on the inside of my purse, pocket or bag. The hotel pen disappears into the same suitcase as the little bottles of shampoo, conditioner, body wash and individually packaged make-up cloths. Taking the pad of paper is optional, although I already knew I had more than a few in my desk drawer. Hotel pens are found in the house in a bowl of random items we can’t bring ourselves to throw away but hardly ever need.
Which brings me to the funeral home pen. We are of the age where we have lost most of our older family members and are now losing friends who are near our age. Our local funeral home started putting out a container of pens during Covid instead of having a couple of pens at the podium where those who attended the visitation could sign the register. The container was intended to allow someone to sign with a pen and then leave it in the container so that it could be sterilized. The pens do have the funeral home logo on it, and they are elegant pens, white with gold colored trim, ball point with clicker. More than one had ended up in my husband’s suit jacket. As admitted carriers rather than leavers, there is a growing collection in a somewhat special place because they are considered the good pens.
This leaves the Sharpie pen, fine tipped, black. I purchase them in a package of six. They compete with gel pens as my preferred writing implement. In fact, until I discovered the gel pens in the box in the closet that’s on the de-clutter list, the Sharpie had no real competition. I vie away from off brands, of which there are many, as Sharpie ink tends to not smear or end up on the side of my hand that I inevitable drag across the page while I’m writing.
Last is the mechanical pencil. This one is gray, and there are two others in the office supply area of the hall cabinet. The importance of the eraser is that it is one of the soft kind that really does erase very well. Not ink, of course, but pencil markings come clean and that’s important in laying the design in my orange dotted page pseudo bullet journal that I bought for $1.25 at the Dollar Tree.
So, to answer why I had ended up with so many writing implements is two-fold. The first reason is related to location. The repurposed travel bag that holds my repurposed ecosystem journals is always near my lounge chair in the living room, which is next to the table with the sliding shelf that holds the special pens, where under said table is the smaller table where the bowl of pens, paper clips, and packages of lead that went to his mother’s favorite no longer around purple mechanical pencil happens to rest. The second reason is about habit. When I get ready to carry my bag to my studio every morning, I grab a pen. When I get ready to go to the bookstore to write, I grab a pen. When I decide to go sit on the back porch and take my journals with me just in case a great idea springs up, I grab a pen. What I apparently don’t do is check the bag to determine if there is already a pen in the bag. As best I can tell, the only writing implement I’ve been keeping track of is the gray mechanical pencil I am currently convinced I need to keep nearby because of the eraser.
If I’m being honest, and most of the time I do try to be honest, I am easily obsessed with a variety of things, albeit my obsessions are often fleeting. I pick up an idea. I pick up a thought. I pick up a memory. I want to keep them, not leave them behind. It’s not about pens and pencils, but with making sure I can capture my ideas, thoughts and memories. My mind has always wandered and now that I’m older, I do seem to forget more easily. Writing has always helped me retain an idea or an impression which is why there are lists on the kitchen table and on the refrigerator and on the wall by my desk in the Studio and in my planner. I guess if I put a post-it note inside my bag to remind me there’s already a pen in here, I might not grab yet another writing implement on my way to wherever I was going. That assumes I’d take time to look in the bag, and we have already established that’s not likely to happen, especially if I’m momentarily obsessed with a place I’ve decided I need to be.
This Post was inspired by Pri’s May 10, 2025 Note found at https://substack.com/@priyaspace