My Silver Pen, Essay Example

I originally found it on the sidewalk outside of a Subway sandwich store. I almost stepped on it. When I looked down, I noticed it sparkling in the sun and decided to pick it up. I tried writing on a piece of scrap paper and saw that the pen was in pretty good shape so I kept it. I started carryng it around on a daily basis and no matter how much I used the pen it never seemed to get any lower on ink. It also stayed shiny and silver without a scratch or any lettering or marking on it whatsoever.

I’m the kind of person who keeps track of their personal possessions. I’m that way because I like to have things on hand when I want or need them. For example, when I need to jot down a note to myself or a number or directions someone is giving me, I like to be able to reach into my pocket and pull out a pen. For almost a full month, the silver pen was my “go-to” pen. The pen was my favorite for two reasons: first, because it felt so perfectly balanced in my hand, and second, because I liked the way its soft tip flowed on paper.

Superstition is something that I’ve always had a weakness about. I don’t walk under ladders and I avoid black cats. I’ve been known to wish on a star now and again. The feeling I had when I picked up the pen was that it was a good omen, something that suggested an unexpected gift or lucky break. I distinctly remember feeling a spring in my step after I pocketed it and went about my daily routine. I also remember thinking that I hoped some occasion would  come along sooner than later when I’d pull our my new silver pen and jot something down, hopefully in a room full of envious onlookers. That didn’t happen right away, but I did start to jot down little notes with it, ideas for poems and stories (I like to write) and shopping lists.

As I used the pen, I noticed strange things about it, like the way it seemed to inspire and sharpen my thoughts. It also seemed to clean-up my signature and my hand-writing. I wonder to this day whether or not having a good pen makes someone a better writer, in general, when the rare occasion comes up that writing by hand is necessary. Another funny thing about the silver pen I noticed was that other people noticed it and a few made complimentary comments. So, yes, the pen became a simultaneous symbol of my luck and vanity. Even then I realized there was something sinister in my pride toward owning t.

A few days after finding it. I was standing in an electronics store looking at computers. An attractive salesperson asked me if I’d like to sign-up for a discount card. I said “Yes, I would” and proudly pulled out my silver pen waving off the pen that was offered tome. I made a big show of filling out the application. You might have thought, watching me, that I was writing calligraphy. When I finished I talked with the salesperson for a minute and then left, assured that when I did buy a new computer I’d be getting a discount plus another chance to chat with the attractive store-clerk. It wasn’t until I got home and was getting ready for bed that I noticed I’d lost the silver pen. It just wasn’t on my person.  I know you’re probably thinking: why didn’t you just go back into the store and get the pen? I tried, but when I went back in, someone had already found it and snatched it for themselves.  Also, I tried to get the salesperson’s cell-phone number and they laughed in my face.

I still can’t figure out where the pen came from or who made it, but as soon as I do I’ll buy another one and treat it with more respect. I still fell pretty bad about losing my favorite silver pen which for me now is a symbol of vanity and pride that is as glaring and as self-destructive as Oedipus. I had such a bad run of luck and writer’s block after losing the pen that I started think I was cursed. Over time I came to understand that finding the pen was a test of my vanity or better yet a test of my resistance to being vain. Being lucky is something to be grateful for, not something through which you should start looking at yourself as being  above other people or exempt from disappointment. I know most of the people who read this account will shrug their shoulder and think “So what, it was just a stupid pen.” But if you think that you haven’t been paying attention to what I’ve written here and that’s no surprise since my ability to write has seemingly vanished since the day the silver pen left my life.