So, I just came back from one of my outings to Peet’s Coffee–like many of us, I sometimes find it easier to get something done with other people around. While I was there, I noticed that out of eight people working on something, I was the only one using just pen and paper. Everyone else had laptops. There’s nothing surprising about this–what I really noticed, and feel sheepish about, is that I was kind of getting off on the fact that I was the different one.
Oooh, look at me, I’m quirky, I’m artistic. Look at me marching away to my different drummer over here. Gaze in befuddled admiration at the splotch of ink on my fingertip.
Really, Lori, get over yourself. You were listening to your iPod headphones the whole time, and most of your prose is done on a keyboard. It’s only poetry brainstorming and some therapeutic journaling that gets the pen and paper treatment.
I suppose I get creative about fuel for my vanity’s fire, especially in this stage of my life. Today, the guy next to me in Peet’s tapping away on his laptop probably has a JOB he’s working on, after all, one that might even pay him MONEY…and it’s hard on my ego that I don’t, so I try to tell myself that I am special in some way to make up for it.
And maybe I am special. But not because of some cream-colored paper and a $1.99 rollerball pen.