: Bought a fountain pen & what it represents about not being a bitch to myself
In middle school, someone gave me a Lamy fountain pen and I fell in love with it. There was a store near my house where you could buy ink cartridges, so I always had a healthy supply. Then, one day I lost the fountain pen and was left with a bunch of useless ink cartridges, which made me feel guilty.
After college, I got my first job, I decided to buy myself a new Lamy fountain pen, thinking of how much I liked the first one. Of course, I also had to restock my supply of ink, long lost in the shuffle. That job that had me moving around a lot, carrying papers, coffee, pen etc. from room to room. So of course, I only got to use pen #2 for a few years before losing it as well. Again, I ended up with a bunch of spare ink cartridges rolling around and taunting me in my desk drawer.
After this, I resolved never to buy a fancy pen again. It felt hopelessly indulgent to buy these nice-ass pens under the pretense that the reusable ink makes them good for the environment, then inevitably lose them and wash away whatever environmental or anti-consumerist rationale might have justified the purchase.
It didn’t help that over the past decade or so, people who are (respectfully) way too into schmancy stationery have taken over social media and the blogosphere. Fountain-pen guy is now a type of guy, one who makes videos of calligraphy and pen strokes that mesmerize, but are embarrassingly impractical. I don’t want to be like that guy, right?
It’s crazy how much psychology I have built up around this silly little non-hobby. I am a very frugal person. I avoid fancy restaurants, expensive vacations, and clothing. I currently own four pairs of shoes and often think about which one I should get rid of. And somehow I have talked myself into hating fountain pens, which is crazy when you consider that I love fountain pens. I like the way they look, I like writing with them, and I like how the fact the I like writing with them stimulates me to write more.
Is that stupid? Does that make me sort of a poser amongst writers? Idk, maybe? But who cares. I have enough assholes in my life; no need to be one to myself.
I’m in Europe now, and yesterday I bought myself a Lamy fountain pen. It was 22 euros. I chose the fine weight this time after trying a bunch. I got a design with a transparent shell because it reminds me of those old Gameboy Advances where you could see the circuit board.
Honestly, I might buy myself another one while I’m here, probably a medium weight to round out the set and have one for the work bag and one for home (to minimize shuffling). It’s highly probable I will lose one or both of these pens in the future, but 22 or even 50 euros for a few years of happy writing is worth it to me now.