Inspiration Monday: Keep on Truckin'

"Keep on Truckin'." We throw that around a lot, and we know what we mean. When the going gets tough, keep on going. You can't get much simpler than that.

I've said this phrase a lot lately (and had it said to me), so it got me thinking about how such a phrase became part of our everyday vernacular.

When I'm out driving on the interstate, I do think about the big trucks and the people who drive them. Much of the time, I'm trying to avoid being stuck beside them because, courtesy of my overactive imagination, I can just see my car getting swept up by one of those huge tires, leaving me and my car on the side of the road like a crumpled tissue. If cars were dinosaurs, a big rig would be a T-Rex and my Nissan would be something little and cute, like a prehistoric turtle. I'm not betting with those odds.

I also think about the people driving those trucks and what it would be like to have their job. It's a hard one, no doubt. Lonely, monotonous, exhausting, and a little dangerous. I imagine that sometimes life would feel a little surreal, since people in the transport industry definitely have to play fast and loose with time and space. You can't make a hot meal, you're stuck eating what you can find on your route. You can't curl up in your bed with your spouse, you have to crash in the sleeper or, if there's time, grab a quick night's sleep in a strange motel bed.

I can see some romance in it though. I would miss Husband way too much to ever hit the road like that without him, but the idea of driving on and on, all alone with my thoughts, is kind of appealing. There is so much to see in the world, and I keep saying I'll get out there to see it one of these days, but I never have the time. If this was my job, that is all I would have: time to drive and look and think. Interstate just looks like interstate, but there is life happening just off the sides, always.

I guess it is the illusion of freedom that appeals to me, but I am smart enough to know that it is just that: an illusion. That is why we say, "Keep on truckin'," after all. No matter what happens, they have to get where they're going, intact, and do it on time.

I could see a story in that. Maybe you can, too. Imagine you're the one in the driver's seat. You're high off the ground, the biggest thing on the road. You're controlled; you have to be. Those tiny cars just keep zooming around you like a swarm of gnats, and it is your job not to squish them. You're tired, your eyes are dry. There's a cramp in your neck. The cab of the truck smells like onions. You want a hot shower in your very own bathroom more than just about anything, but there's no use worrying about that. You've got a job to do.

Your trailer is special. This isn't just another load of Florida oranges coming up for a high school fundraising sale. This load, you're told, means something. You don't know what it is, and the boss isn't telling you. The rig is locked tight with a special combination lock, and you don't have the code. Whatever this is, it has to reach its destination, and it has to be there on time. They're waiting.

This is not a smooth run. You've lost a re-tread and your gas gauge doesn't seem to be working right. You hit a familiar truck stop to refuel, only to find it closed and boarded up. Then there's something about the way that State Trooper is tailing you that you just don't like.

Blue lights. Big surprise.

What's in the truck? Why is it so important? Where are you going? Where have you been? What's with all the bad luck, and is there a reason for it? Why does the cab smell like onions? Fill in the blanks and see where it takes you. Just make sure you reach your destination on time.

Tools of the Trade: Ink Review - Noodler's Dragon's Napalm

Sometimes, you just want an ink that makes a statement.

When that mood hits you, this is your ink:

Noodler's Dragon's Napalm

When you hear a name like "Dragon's Napalm" you should already be prepared for an intense, unique color. This ink definitely delivers in that aspect.

The man behind Noodler's Inks, Nathan Tardiff, has stated that he wanted to capture the unique color of Mercurochrome, a popular antiseptic in the 70's and 80's, known for the fluorescent red/orange stain it applied to everything it touched.

This is the real deal:

Photo courtesy of Kevin Vreeland via Wikipedia

And this is Dragon's Napalm:

I'm a little too young to remember ever having used Mercurochrome, as it was already falling out of fashion in my youth due to concerns about its mercury content, but there is no denying that it is a unique, vibrant color that probably invokes memories for a lot of people.

Personally, I went after this ink because I wanted something fun to write with when I felt I needed a little pick-me-up. Sometimes a little novelty goes a long way with me. Anyway, this ink doesn't get to come out of its cave too often, but when it does, I really enjoy it.

I haven't noticed it staining any of my pens yet, but I don't know if that is because it isn't as stain-prone as I would think given the high dye content and color, or if I have just confined it to pens that are pretty resistant to staining anyway. Noodler's inks are a polarizing topic in the fountain pen community since some of the zany ideas that work their way out of those Noodler's bottles can be a little finicky if you aren't sure what you're getting into. Personally, I'm a Noodler's fan and use their inks widely. That said, this is one I handle with care, much like Noodler's Baystate Blue (which is about as controversial as the Affordable Healthcare Act). I haven't actually had any reason to believe this ink would harm a pen--repeat, it has never harmed any of the pens I've used, including my husband's beloved Pelikan m800--but I do tend to confine it to pens I know I can take apart and clean easily and ones I do not believe will conspicuously stain. I do not have to be burned by a dragon to know that fire is hot.

I have to admit, I long to see this ink sitting in a clear demonstrator, like my TWSBI Diamond 540. That color can really wake you up, and I think it would be fun to see it sloshing around in a crystal clear pen.

As for performance, this ink is on the dry side. I tend to like the smoother feel you get from more lubricated inks, but dry inks are not inherently bad. If you use finer nibs, you might notice a little more scratch when you write than with some other inks, but it is not a deal-breaker. Dry inks do tend to make me a little paranoid that my pen is going to clog, so that is sometimes a distraction for me.

This ink is certainly dark and clear enough to use for regular writing, though you might want to put on sunglasses if you're reading back a full page. It is also great contrast ink, and I can see myself reaching for it to underline or edit. You would certainly not miss any margin notes written in this stuff.

This ink is so hard to photograph. I did the best I could with the review, so hopefully it is close enough to give you an idea. Probably not, though. This stuff really burns out your eyeballs in person.

This ink is pretty magical stuff. If you're suffering from a case of the writing blahs, Dragon's Napalm will cure them. If you don't believe me, check out this Youtube video from NoodlersFan:

Parable of the Peanut Butter

Consider for a moment that you are a big fan of peanut butter. You are more than a fan, you are a connoisseur of peanut butter who can explain the merits of both crunchy and creamy varieties without bias, and you know the answer to the age-old spreading question: spoon or knife (but you're not telling).

You've tried peanut butters far and wide, and you know quality. For some foods, the generic store brand might taste just as well as their name-brand counterparts, but not peanut butter. With peanut butter, you have to suck it up and go with the good stuff.

You're perusing the grocery store shelves one day to find that last jar of honey-roasted Peter Pan amongst all the Jiffs and Skippys (Skippies?), when your eye falls on one jar in back. It is glass, not plastic, and you know that label. This is not your regular store-brand peanut butter. This is imported, superbly creamy, impossibly delicious, and--whoa. Expensive. Very.

You can't pass it up. You are a peanut butter connoisseur, remember? This is the kind of peanut butter you've been looking for. You're buying it, even if it means you have to put back your copies of Writer's Digest and the National Enquirer. There's only this one jar, and you're not likely to find this stuff again. You tuck the jar in safe next to your bananas and eggs and head for the register. You cock a disdainful eyebrow toward the jelly as you pass. No way, jelly. Not this time. This peanut butter doesn't need your help. It is special. 

You get home and pull out a slice of Wonderbread for your ultimate sandwich. You look at it on the plate, so plain, so white, so boring. This peanut butter can do better than this. It doesn't need any plastic-bag loaf training-wheels bread. You pull out a giant baguette and slice it open. You've broken out the good bread and that means you're putting a lot of pressure on this peanut butter to be able to turn your expensive baguette into the biggest, best peanut butter sandwich you've ever seen, that anyone has ever seen.  You open the jar of peanut butter and take a whiff. Your mouth waters. In goes a spoon and you taste it.

Wow.

You weren't wrong.  This peanut butter is the real deal. This peanut butter actually wants to make you happy; you can feel it in all your taste buds.

You set to work spreading the peanut butter on the baguette. At first, you put down thick creamy blobs. It spreads so well, so smoothly. It is certainly well-behaved; it would spread just as well with a spoon or a knife. The bread is coarse and bigger than it looked at first, and now that you're noticing it, there isn't as much peanut butter in the jar as you thought. As you push the peanut butter over the surface, you realize you have to rethink your peanut butter sandwich making strategy. This is no chintzy white-bread peanut butter sandwich, this is an epic mega-sandwich! You are determined you will succeed, so you push and push the peanut butter, spread, spread, spread until you have a thin layer over the entire baguette. Very thin. You scrape the bottom of the little glass jar one last time for good measure and then...it is time. You take a bite.

It's...okay.

It's...bready.

It's...bread. Mostly.

Where's the taste? You think back to the way the peanut butter first hit your tongue straight out of the jar: strong, fresh, smooth, plentiful. Where has that magic gone? Where has the freakin' peanut butter gone?

You open the sandwich and have a look at the pitiful smearings of your expensive PB-no-J hanging on to the surface of the bread. It's there. It's all there, but it's not enough. The bread is too big, the jar too small. There is more to a dish than the presence of right ingredients, and there just isn't enough peanut butter to turn this bread into a sandwich no matter how far you've spread it, because there's not enough of it to be what it is supposed to be.

You scrape your knife over the bread, trying to reclaim some so you can have half an epic sandwich at least, but it's no use. You really smeared that peanut butter in there. It's smashed down into the bread, an irretrievable done deal. You go back to the jar, but there it sits: empty, only a few sad daubs clinging to the glass. There is no more. There will be no more.

You have your sandwich all right, but your ingredients are wasted just the same.

So, tell me. Where are you wasting your peanut butter?

Tools of the Trade: Ink Review - Noodler's Firefly

There are a lot of reasons to pick up a pen. Most of them involve writing something down (and some of them involve poking at the space behind your desk to scoot out that quarter you dropped). Once the writing is done, there's usually cause to read it back. To study it, maybe to edit it. For me, that's where Noodler's Firefly comes in.

I used to get along fine with a handful of felt-tip highlighters for most of my studying and editing. (By the way, have you ever noticed how highlighters tend to just multiply in drawers? I do NOT remember buying so many, but I have lots. Maybe I need to sit them closer to my spare change jar so they can teach it some tricks.)

There is nothing wrong with a good felt-tip highlighter. They get the job done, they're cheap, they're easy to obtain. They're simple tools. They're just not as much fun as they could be.

I got this ink because Lamy decided to release this pen as it's 2013 Limited Edition Safari:

Neon Yellow Lamy Safari. It's more neon than it looks.

When I saw that pen, I saw instant potential for an excuse to a) get a cool new pen and b) find a way to replace yet another common writing tool with a fountain pen.

I ordered my Neon Yellow Safari with a 1.9mm italic nib. An italic nib is one with no ball of tipping material on the end of the nib, usually cut straight across (or sometimes at an angle, called an oblique) and used to provide essential line variation for calligraphic writing. Or, in this case highlighting.

1.9mm is a wide nib, too wide for most casual writing, even if you're accomplished in penmanship. For my purposes, it was perfect.

I went in search of the highlighter ink that would most match my fluorescent yellow pen, and Noodler's Firefly was top of the line. Noodler's and a few other manufacturers make other highlighter inks in various colors, but as soon as I loaded Firefly in my Safari, I knew I had chosen well. It is such a perfect match for that bright, eye-searing yellow I am so well-trained to spot when scanning documents, and it showed up flawlessly on all the text I tried it with.

I was hoping that the fountain pen highlighting method would produce less smearing and ink-transfer when highlighting over handwritten (or ink-jet printed) words than felt-tip highlighters. Sadly, it was not to be. Highlighting over fountain pen ink is especially bad about this, but I noticed it happening with commercial ballpoints and rollerballs as well. Even though this is just as common with standard highlighters, this is a fountain pen which uses capillary action to produce ink-flow, and which can also suck up ink small amounts of pooled ink as it writes. That left the pen writing with a lingering black muddy quality for longer than it would take to de-smudge a felt-tip with a few scribbles.

Another concern is the water resistance. Be warned: if you are using this ink on an important document, keep it away from water! This is one of the most water-soluble inks I have ever used. It literally ceases to exist when it comes in contact with H2O. It is entirely erasable, and that's not a good thing in this case. 

The other issue I experienced was with the pen, not the ink. The 1.9mm nib I received had very tight tines and required some tweaking to get it to flow well. Even once that was done, I noticed that I had trouble keeping the nib flat on the paper, sometimes losing contact and producing a skip. The ink is thin and not very viscous, so it didn't help me out with maintaining flow like some thicker inks will. I also found it to be kind of scratchy and not as pleasant to use as I'd hoped. Part of the problem is with me--I am a left-handed underwriter, and while it doesn't affect my ability to use most pens, I have always struggled with italic nibs of all sizes. I do much better with an oblique that follows the natural contour of my grip and enables me to keep the nib connected to the paper in a more natural way.

This set-up took some getting used to, but I am very happy with the ink. It works great on laser printed and commercially printed pages. I may purchase a Platinum Preppy Highlighter pen in the near future. All Platinum Preppies are easily convertible to eyedropper fillers, meaning you can seal the threads and fill the whole barrel with ink. That would give me a felt-tip alternative to use with this ink, and I guarantee it will be more economical in the long run than going through piles of standard highlighters.

As with some other bright inks, this one proved difficult to scan. My scanner is designed to AVOID picking up highlighted sections, so I had to take a photo instead. It doesn't capture the fluorescence very well, but it is there, just as bright and useful as the drawerful of Sharpie highlighters apparently everyone has.

Of course, if you get a bottle of this ink and it doesn't fit your needs, you could always do what I suggested in the review: smear it all over your hands and go outside at dusk to strike fear in the heart of every firefly for miles.

The comparison is a Sharpie highlighter. When a highlighter is doing its job, it isn't supposed to be legible, right?

Inspiration Monday: From Observer to Narrator

I'm currently reading On the Road by Jack Keroac. While it is billed as a novel, Keroac made no secret about the fact that it was built from his own experiences. The narrative rumbles on and on in stream of consciousness like a jazzy drum solo, complete with unexpected adjectives that ring in your ears like cymbal crashes. Every interaction the narrator has with another person is colorful and alive, not because of the amount of details provided--on the contrary, he blazes from one place to the next like a shooting star in Mexican huarache shoes--but because of the ones he chooses to include. This is a gift Keroac had, for sure, but another reason he was able to capture so much noise and turn it into music was that he was purposeful about it. As a writer, Keroac did not just observe. He observed with intent.

Through years of writing fiction, especially those projects with a dash of fantasy, I have become well-practiced in observing entire worlds unfolding only in my head. How a person talks or drives a car or folds his pillow under his head comes from the jumbled trunk of collected experiences stored in the attic of my mind. There are all kinds of odds and ends in there--little bits of conversations, half-remembered sensory experiences, a few scars, and probably a good amount of Jell-O.

I didn't store all those things in the back of my mind with the plan of someday channeling them into a story, a blog post, or even to color the way I see things when I read books. They are largely just things that somehow stuck with me for better or worse, unimpeachably stamped with my perception and voice, that find their way out of the box when the time comes. These things can be useful, but they aren't intentional. 

I recently tried a little experiment. During a conversation with Husband, I grabbed up a notebook and I narrated him. He wasn't sure what I was doing at first, but I read what I had written back to him afterward. He not as amused as I was, but he was a good sport (because as sports go, he is the very best good one). I noticed a few interesting things. There is a cadence to his speech and a little dip in his accent that is all his own. I must have known; we've been married for years. I would recognize his voice anywhere, but I still hadn't noticed. He didn't talk like I write, he talked like he talks. Instead of remembering him on paper, I captured him.

Try it out this week. Don't just listen to the world around you, listen with intent. Write things down the way they are, not the way you remember them. Put on your journalist's hat and tell it like it is. Not only is it good practice for developing varied character voices, it is a great way to stockpile images, dialogue, and scenes that could come in handy later. Pay attention to the nuance. Give yourself a chance to really notice things. It'll become second nature, and you'll find yourself remembering things in a new, purposeful way.

It is one thing to go through life as an unexamined observer, but once you become a narrator you take on the responsibility of opening your readers' eyes to the way you see things, and underneath, why you see them that way.

Your life story is happening now. Tell it.

Point in Time

There are a lot of things I love about my job working with people who have experienced homelessness.

For one, I get a front-row seat to some of the greatest personal comeback stories anyone could ask for. I've seen people rescue themselves from human trafficking, unconscionable violence, dehumanizing addictions, and textbook-defying mental and physical illness. These same people get jobs, they go back to school, they get medical and psychiatric care, they learn how to read, they make friends. They go from streets, shelters, abandoned buildings, and sheet-and-tarp tents, to sleeping in beds (really sleeping, which many haven't done for years), washing their clothes, grocery shopping, and paying bills. These are all things most of us take for granted, but for my clients these are milestones. Not everyone has the kind of success they write about in human-interest newspaper stories, but most are on the road to seeing themselves as individuals again, remembering what it is like to have the privilege of being a "person" instead of being branded: HOMELESS.

My job is never, ever, ever, ever boring, and it allows me to see up close and personal the one really true magic trick a human being can perform:

Transformation.

It's beautiful. Completely. Every single time.

Today's adventure was the nationwide Homeless Point-in-Time Count. This initiative is mandated by the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development to gain a census of the sheltered and unsheltered homeless populations around the country's major cities on one given day, strategically chosen as the day after the estimated coldest night of the year. Service providers and volunteers are dispatched into the city to locate and interview unsheltered individuals.

The Point-in-Time Count is the only opportunity some of us ever take to spend a day taking stock of our city. This is a day spent looking around corners, behind things, under things, peeking through the looking-glass to the places our cities don't want us to notice, the places where invisible things like to hide. Invisible people.

Today, my coworker and I were assigned an area of the city we don't normally frequent. It's kind of funny, really, because this area is much nearer to my home than to my work, but it still felt foreign. We peeked behind parking lots, in alleys, around overpasses, and under bridges. My coworker, (who has a future in NASCAR if this career doesn't work out for her) pulled several EXPERT U-turns on seven lane highways to get us near enough to approach people. We met some interesting people today, ones I won't forget. It's hard to believe they have been there all this time, practically in my own backyard.

I work with people who have experienced homelessness for a living, and days like today still have the power to open my eyes and remind me: homelessness is a crisis. It is a complicated, tangled-up, no-easy-answers problem, but that is no excuse to forget. It is an emergency for these individuals, day in and day out, through all points in their time whether we are counting or not. Their lives are happening in these hidden places we are trained not to see and their every activity is centered around survival, whatever shape it takes for that person. It is profoundly unjust, and when we forget this (or just refuse to look), we lose a piece of our humanity.

I'm going to endeavor to remember to peek around corners a little more often, and to remember the people who may be carving out an existence there: people who are sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, and hopefully someday--neighbors.

Tools of the Trade: Poopoopaper Panda Poo Journal

On a trip to the Memphis Zoo last year, I ducked into the gift shop with Husband and my friend. They meandered around, trying on safari hats and sunglasses, smugly ignoring all the snake memorabilia hiding on the shelves. I do not like snakes, remember? So, that left me creeping around the aisles, holding my breath and steeling myself so I could walk past the big display of plush snake stuffed animals (ages 3+). I was quickly becoming a nervous wreck and needed something to focus on so I could bide my time in safety.

My sixth sense kicked in and I finally located a panda-adorned table full of books, pens, and paper. There were no snakes anywhere near it, and no one else was standing there. Plus, PANDAS! Perfect.

The table was piled high with these:

They were made with panda poo.

Like, poo from actual pandas. Like this one, who posed so nicely for me:

He's making new raw paper material right now.

Naturally, I had to have one.

The manufacturer, Poopoopaper (their webstore is called the "Pootique"), uses the back cover to assure me that the poo in question was sifted for bamboo fibers, which were washed and sterilized before processing, ensuring an environmentally sound and odorless writing experience. Uh huh. Let's hope so.

There is good craftsmanship in this notebook. The cover is adorable. It is well-made and quite artful, especially the inset panda portrait with an origami-style plant for it to munch.  It does not smell like poo of any kind, unless Panda poo already smells like paper. I kinda doubt that.

I was not expecting this paper to be good for use with fountain pens, which are pretty much all I ever use. The paper is thick and spongy feeling, like most handmade pulp papers. Of course, that didn't stop me from giving it a try.

It went a bit better than I expected, and wasn't entirely unpleasant. It was obviously a bad pen and paper match--it was rough and there was plenty of feathering and "ink-bloat"--but I still found a lot to like about the paper. It is as soft and thick as the cover led me to believe. The front side is "smoother" but that is like saying my cat's tongue is smoother than 40-grit sandpaper. It is smattered with little fibers throughout. Fibers that came from poo.

The back side of the paper is quite different. It has a uniform "grid" pattern embedded into it from the paper manufacturing process. This type of paper is not press rolled like most commercial papers, but is dried on a screen, creating this unique pattern. I don't believe the notebook is designed for writing on both sides of the page, but I can't help myself. I hate wasting paper.

I tried the paper with a gel pen as well. I used the fake Mont Blanc someone gave my husband for free loaded with a Parker Gel refill. It's normally a nice writer, but I had a similar nagging fear that the tip of the pen was about to clog up with fibers.

Then came pencil. It is hard to go wrong with a pencil since they're fairly indestructible. If I'd had the right pencil in my hand, I might have found it a little more pleasant, but in this case, the one I had was a little light and hard for this paper. It dug into the soft paper and produced much too faint a line for my liking.

The best pen for the job on this particular paper, as I'm pained to admit, is an old fashioned paste-ink, 39¢ ballpoint pen.

The ballpoint matches pleasantly with the soft paper, and the lines are dark and easy. This paper makes for one of the better ballpoint pen experiences I've had, actually, mostly due to the pleasant sinking of the pen into the paper. It reminds me of when I used to flip over my mom's floppy plastic and rubber placemats when I was a kid and doodle on the backs of them. (Yes, I eventually got caught.) I thought I'd be as nagged by the fear of clogging the tip as I was with the gel pen, but for some reason, it wasn't a factor. It just didn't scratch into the paper as much.

On the whole, this is a nice notebook if you're not picky about your writing instruments. It is cute, it is quirky, it is well-made, and it is made of poo. How can you top that?