The might of a pen

If the pen is indeed mightier than the sword, I need no security system in my home. I collected all the pens in my (clean) apartment today. I gathered them from the coffee table, the kitchen table (that doubles as a desk), the kitchen counter, the nightstand, the table that sits behind my couch, and the top of the refrigerator. I have, unbeknownst to me, strategically placed pens at arm’s length throughout my apartment. I am perpetually poised to jot down my thoughts, things needing doing, or blog ideas.

I write compulsively.

I was a senior in high school when my AP English teacher told me that I wrote well. It was the end of the year and the assignment was simply to write a piece of prose to share with the class. Sitting at the cusp of graduation and college on a stool in front of my peers, I recited what I wrote about my future.

I don’t quite remember what I wrote, but the gist was something to the sum of defying expectations, reaching for some dreams, and being a little uneasy about it all. I recall something about knowing where I wanted to be in the end but not knowing what the path would look like – wanting something that resembled the American dream, only different.

Ms. Lovett praised my ability to put into words what so many others were experiencing. I didn’t recognize her compliment at the time. (I rarely ever do.) But now, nearly 10 years later, I find myself still writing about the future – about balancing expectations and about dreams that look even less like the American dream and about this uneasiness I have about it all. I don’t know if I am verbalizing what others may also be feeling, but I would hope that maybe I am. That would be a good goal to achieve.

Thank you, Ms. Lovett, for giving me this gift of self expression.