The Anais Way

“Like a hot knife cutting through butter…” was a friend’s description of the smoothness of Inoxcrom pens.

A pen lover (and member of a group of pen lovers online), he knew his pens, complete with names and models, like cars. I love pens too (to a fault), but not in that way. I was more of the “feeling” type, i.e. “if it feels right, it must BE right” (I use the same rule for love and  grammar, but that’s a different story).

We had just gotten our bi-annual salary bonuses, but instead of blowing a substantial amount on clothes and shoes (as single people my age are wont to do at some time or another), I held onto it for a considerably longer time…and successfully bought, as my first ever purchase, a puncher.

Yes, the kind that makes little holes in paper.

J

And then, I got myself what my grandmother would call, a souvenir. My grandmother is a fan of the lottery bets recreationally, with a couple of “steady numbers” memorized. Whenever she wins, she buys something special (usually a housedress, a duster in bright colors) to celebrate her good fortune.

I did the same. But not with a housedress, of course.

I bought…a pen.

Nothing too fancy, that's for sure, but it was a stainless steel Inoxcrom pen that [literally] had my name on it. I had it engraved with “Stephanie Eloisa”, and although it seems like a frivolous purchase, I assure you, it is not.

(No, you can’t wear a pen, and no, it is not JUST a pen, and yes, it was well worth it. :-p) 

I’ve been writing a lot of stuff these past few days, with my job being like it is…a never-ending recording of my patients’ life stories. It is a painstaking process to churn out voluminous chronicles of their lives, and though I may exaggerate somewhat, this is all true. And, writing it out with a great pen makes the difference.

Anais Nin didn’t write with a Panda. Or a Dong-A sign pen in her prime. She probably wrote with an…Inoxcrom. :-p

In her crazy lifetime full of living and loving, Anais Nin probably had to be able to sit down and write out her thoughts and do so enjoyably because of a good pen and paper. I’ve been reading snippets of diary entries (she’s most known as a diarist) and I’m halfway through Henry and June, a book tagged by some as extremely erotic. (Although I didn’t think so, because I was more fascinated by her accounts, by her wit, and by that way she described people around her with such palpable, and yet technically superior grace.)

Which is why I could not imagine her on twitter, though. Or on facebook. (Although her quote, "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom."  Would seem to sound awfully cool as a status update on FB, don’t you think?)

I feel the same way, I suppose. Although I enjoy twitter’s urgency and immediate fulfillment of one’s urge to document one’s little life events and current preoccupations, I for one, can’t fully embrace it. 

And in terms of status updates on Facebook, you can only say so much. Instant gratification of our need for posterity seems to be the norm nowadays, and I have nothing against that.

For a more pleasurable writing experience, I recommend a dose of Anais Nin.

To write. To sit down with pen and paper, to think, and rethink, and put your thoughts in order…with nary a thought for whether your current piece is going to be “popular” or not (Although if it is, then it won’t be quite so bad, either. ;-)).

I am not a blogger. Nor am I a writer just yet.

I, well… I just write.

I breathe, I live and I tell my stories.

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"We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect."

                                                                                    — Anaïs Nin

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Hi. This is my entry for the rejuvenated blog rounds, Round 2. Major Props to Doc Remo for hosting and getting the ball rolling again. We needed a jolt (a.k.a. a much-needed defibrillation to get our blogging hearts restarted again), right?

I’ve only started reading Anais Nin on and off since last week. After reading about her diaries and writing from a book about journal writing, I got really curious, mesmerized by her gift for describing people. It would come in handy for my job, I suppose, as we deal with detail… So I looked her up, and I got my hands on a copy of Henry and June, a sexually risqué piece of work, or so they say.

LOL. I mentioned this to a friend, and when he looked it up online he was aghast and adding the other ebook I shared with him, he commented, “Is this the type of literature you’re into?”. What can I say, he wasn’t a writer…and judging from his reaction, he may never understand the beauty of the words, the mellifluous harmony of writing which marks Anais Nin’s pieces.

Tsk tsk.

Admittedly, I’m not a big fan of her way of throwing herself at life without reserve, and of her loss of 

control on certain issues, but by golly, can she WRITE…and what style!

 She is a thin, permeable membrane of emotions and lusty love for living…which makes it almost scary to want to be like her. Yet, I know my limits. I want to live life to the fullest and write about it and all that, in a style like hers, but I can never fully let go.

(In the same way that I can’t overshare on twitter, facebook, and blogger. But this comes pretty close.)

Good morning. :-)

~ S.