The beauty of cursive writing

Every time someone asks me to actually write something on a piece of paper, I cringe. I cringe because I am so off using a pen and paper (yeah, I can sound snooty that way :)), that the very thought of what my handwriting has degraded to, makes me shudder. And then when I see the proof of the damage years of neglect to cursive writing can do, I am appalled at the unrecognizable codes I see on the sheet in front of me. So, what I have started doing is writing everything in capital letters. Sure, it looks ridiculous but at least it’s legible. For some people, cursive writing comes naturally, even after a gap of 10 years. For me, sentences might start with a legible A or B but then it trails off to what can only be described as straight lines. Like a code. That you, yes you, need to decipher. Exciting? Umm, not really.

To do some damage control, I bought myself an ink pen today. Along with the ink bottle. Yep, almost felt back to school. But boy, did it feel good! I even bought one of those small notebooks, with the lined pages.

So, with this determination, I plan to start writing a few sentences everyday. I don’t care what I write, as long as it’s cursive. I’ve always found something immensely poetic, fashionable even (in an old, lived-in sort of way), about ink pens. The way you fill the ink into the body of the pen, the way the ink magically flows through the nib onto your paper, forming perfect vowels, syllables and sentences. It’s actually poetry in motion – PIM. Plus, it’s intensely satisfying to write something with an ink pen. The fact that it can be washed away with water doesn’t dampen my spirits at all. Not unless that’s my notebook you’re talking about!

 

 

 

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