Graphite and Gauntlets

            I hate writing in pencil.  Its dirty graphite smudges across my page, leaving behind grey paths and lines which trespass without respect.  The delible nature of its craft succumbs to fading, and what once were well-defined and crisp letters slip to hazy outlines.  Pencils require continual maintenance, stain the bottom of the writing hand as it slides across sheets of paper, and the fragility of a pencil tip can hardly withstand the jostling of a school backpack.

            Okay, so maybe I exaggerate.  But truly, I’m not a pencil woman.  Writing in pen makes me thoughtful, deliberate about what I write; I know the permanence of my letters.  My pens glide across the page with unresisting slide, and present me with a multiplicity of color options.  Also, I don’t like erasing.  Although it may remove the bulk of the marking, a shadowed background body of whatever was previously written remains behind.  Underneath those new words is the remnant of your mistake.  Frustrating.

           

              I walked an hour late into class today.  If you know me, you know I don’t do that.  The oversight: a tendency to reverse things coupled with a new school schedule.  I mistook EGEN 125 for LIT 285—that is, a 2:40 class for a 1:40 one.  Unknowing and chipper, I walked into that classroom only to be met by the shaming stare of 35 students situated in their desks, fidgety from the hour of discussing Greek literature.  My confidence got me to my desk, but there ended.  As I walked the classroom-front gauntlet, seventy fazed eyes surveyed my embarrassment.  What could I say?  Any excuse would only heighten my intrusive presence.  So I sat in my desk, head down, looking at my book for the remaining 25 minutes. 

Now, what does this have to do with pencils?  I have no idea. For some reason, they were hanging out in the same space in my mind, asking to be written.  The human mind naturally sees connections, but I'm at a loss.  I suppose it's up to you.  Leave a comment; let me know how it goes.