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Find It Where You Can Get It
Originally, I planned a post interrogating my internal cop. But in our season of rapidly rising fascism and eroding First Amendment rights, I wasn't striking the right tone for a reflective post on internalized policing. I'll continue revising this short essay until I find the right feel. Until then, I thought I'd share some things that are giving me joy during these heavy times. In no particular order, here we go:
Of Possible Interest On Friday, October 3, I'm presenting a workshop on navigating Human Resources for queer and trans folks at the North Dakota LGBTQIA2S+ Summit. I plan to cover why HR system are not meant to work for or support marginalized people, how to document harassment and discrimination, and explore some local, state, and federal (LOL) resources. After the workshop, I'll write up the biggest takeaways. Check out that post in November. Thank you very much for your time. If you have recommendations or curiosities, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): Sherpa Total Blackout Pen Cover [Sharpie]
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My Postcolonial Brain Doesn't Have an Off-Switch
I'm hella late to this, but I'm finally watching Hulu's Shōgun, which I'm loving. I'd avoided the show for two reasons. First, I've always looked sideways at cishet white guys who fetishize Japanese culture and women. (Marvel and Star Wars have plundered Japanese culture for decades for mostly Western audiences.) Appreciation or respect is one thing, but fetishism or appropriation is another. I made assumptions about Shōgun based on experiences and observations of this particular kind of white cishet dude in high school and college and did not want to participate in their problematic aesthetics and politics. (However, I do adore Japanese stationery.) Second, after leaving academia, I found it hard to read for fun, and with Shōgun's subtitles, I was hesitant to watch, not sure I would have the focus needed. My mind now wanders to past experiences in the silence of reading. But this past week, I finally started watching Shōgun, and with two episodes left (I'm trying unsuccessfully to pace myself), I'm hooked. It's stunningly shot; the costumes are gorgeous; and the acting is brilliant! And yet, I cannot turn off my brain's need to analyze, to contextualize, to theorize about this fascinatingly complex show. While others may have already written on this (I have not checked, as this post is more reader response than researched essay), I was initially concerned Shōgun represents a sort of exoticism 2.0. The show is based on the novel by a British author. I'm generally suspicious of white men writing about the lives, experiences, and cultures of others. That one of the show runners is of Japanese descent gives me hope this is not another orientalist (in the Said sense) take on Japanese history and culture. Again, I do love this show. Anyway, Blackthorne's brutish behavior is rightly off-putting (though his behind is deeply engrossing). He's like an other-side-of-the-world John Smith to Mariko's Pocahontas. (That is truly a shit analogy.) I find Blackthorne deeply irritating. Though, perhaps as a Western audience, we need him as our in to the story and this particular period of Japan's history. I do like Blackthrone's unlikability. And in this way, he presents a more complicated, less mythic version of the prototypical English explorer. Protestant Blackthorne becomes slightly more likable when juxtaposed with the Portuguese Catholics, both faith leaders and merchants. It's not hard to turn historic Catholics into villains when for over two millennia the Church has pillaged and raped, enslaved and genocided all over the New World. And while English Protestants were equally as barbaric in their imperial enterprises, there's something more sinister about the Catholic Church actively participating in these practices, without atoning, to enrich its own coffers in the name of God, whatever that means. (This critique may sound harsh, but as a queer person, I have little patience for the Church's anti-LGBTQ+ practices and policies and the harms the Church has committed on generations of queer and trans people, again, without atonement.) The women of Shōgun are the most fascinating to me. For example, Mariko is caught between an abusive husband and Blackthorne as well as Toranaga and the remaining four regents. Mariko shows wisdom and strength and calmness in the eye of this powerful storm. As interpreter for Blackthorne and Toranaga, Mariko neutralizes aggressive sentiments, creating stability for this new shaky East-West alliance. Lady Ochiba's revenge-fueled rise to power confounds the patriarchal regents as she works to ensure her son remains the heir of the deceased Taikō. There's Usami Fuji, Blackthorne's consort, who overcomes the death of both her husband and infant. And there's Gin, the enterprising madam of the tea house, who argues in favor of the unionization and professionalization of courtesans to protect and lift up women. While the men tear each other apart, the women scheme for a better existence, a different world. Surprisingly, Yabushige became one of my favorite characters. I was ready for him to die after the first episode, but man, has he won me over. Did he boil a man alive??? Yes. Was it hella gross??? Also, yes. But is he funny as he attempts to survive the political power struggle??? Absolutely. I'm curious what's in store for him, Mariko, and the rest of Toranaga's clan in the remaining two episodes. And I'm happy to learn two more seasons are in the works! UPDATE: I finished the season. A little shellshocked. Uff da. Thank you very much for your time. If you have recommendations or curiosities, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): Lanbitou 3088 [Fountain Pen] | Monteverde Horizon Blue [Ink] Current Curiosities
[Reading] American Teenager: How Trans Kids Are Surviving Hate and Finding Joy in a Turbulent Era by Nico Lang [Listening] Unicorn Girl [Watching] Thunderbolts* Transparent Writing Whenever I'm feeling anxious or need to start a new writing project, I close my laptop, set aside my iPhone, and either journal or outline essays by hand. Lately, more often than not, I use a fountain pen. The controlled pressure and movements slow down my brain, allowing me to deeply consider my thoughts and feelings, to take stock of what's going on or what I need to accomplish. I have a theory about particular writing instruments and what they connote about my own frame of mind. I've noticed when I'm feeling afloat and needing a sense of permanence, I write with Sharpie. When I'm exploring new ideas or need space for mistakes, I use pencils (either wooden or mechanical). While engineering marvels, I usually avoid ballpoint pens, as their ink is clumpy and inconsistent. But when I'm feeling confident and content, I return again and again to fountain pens. I'm probably overthinking these everyday tools, but their usage often corresponds to what's happening in my life. Working with children or for a construction company? Sharpie, it is. Working in Higher Education, pencils offer the pretense of impermanence. Pencils' erasability communicates writing is a process and nothing is fixed permanently in place. And then there's fountain pens. Thought, sometimes I'm too shy to use fountain pens in public — either in the office or at a coffeeshop — because Fargo-Moorhead is weirdly conservative for a relatively diverse Upper Midwestern metropolitan center, and as a queer person, I try not to draw extra attention to myself. But fountain pens are where my writing heart lies. In first grade, my parents asked me what I wanted instead of flowers for my first piano recital. (As a shy, anxious kid, I was ready to have the experience of playing an oversimplified Ode to Joy behind me.)I thought long and hard about what I wanted. A new Lego set??? Something else??? Then one Saturday a few weeks before my recital, my parents took my sister and me to Zandbroz, a now-shuttered eclectic home goods and stationery store anchoring Downtown Fargo. (In the 1990s and early 2000s, Downtown Fargo was hella queer. Sadly, in recent decades Downtown Fargo has been Burgumized, lobotomized, sanitized of queerness and culture in favor of the beige comfort of conservative white women.) Anyway, I wandered around the store, discovering glass display cases full of pens neatly knolled — ballpoints, rollerballs, and of course, fountain pens! While my dad browsed books and my mom and older sister perused bath and beauty products, I scoured the pen cases. The shopkeep (a queer woman, who I'd later encounter again working in my undergraduate library) came over and asked if I wanted to see anything up close. Fuck yes! I asked to see a blue plastic Lamy Safari, an ACME Studios No.2 Pencil, and a black-lacquered Cross, among others. But what caught my seven-year-old eye was an inexpensive colorful Parker Vector. The barrel was covered in a Mondrian-inspired pattern and had a black arrowhead clip. I told the shopkeep what it was for, and she asked if I wanted a box, as this particular pen was open stock. As she boxed up my new fountain pen, she slid a few extra blue ink cartridges on the house. What a kindness! Now, I had to wait a couple weeks to receive the pen after completing my Ode to Joy performance. I thought about that pen every day until the day of the recital. As everyone else received carnations and roses, I was handed a wrapped box. I was so excited to open it that I barely made it to the car before tearing into the package. I slept with it and a spiral-bound pocket notebook under my pillow for weeks and found excuses to write anything and everything down. One of my favorite books (and movies) growing up was Harriet the Spy, and like Harriet, I wanted to explore and document the world around me. I used that Parker Vector until the plastic barrel cracked from my screwing the section and barrel too tightly together. Overtime, I've forgotten what became of that pen. Maybe it's in a box of childhood stuff in my parents' basement??? During my doctoral program, while trying to find anything to do other than research for-profit immigration detention centers, I got the urge to find another colorful Parker Vector fountain pen — either used or new old stock (my preference). I still have yet to find one, but I have purchased several of the rollerball version on eBay. Nostalgia is a helluva drug. When I studied in Spain junior year of undergrad, my family would send occasional care packages. My sister and brother-in-law sent an iPod Shuffle after my blue iPod Mini died on Day One in Segovia, as I danced to the Spice Girls "Wannabe" across the Plaza Mayor on my way to class. (Can you believe I was still passing as straight???) I say sent because when I opened the box, there was no iPod in the package among the candy and jars of peanut butter. (Peanut butter is my favorite food, and it was not very popular in Spain at the time.) I called my sister on my Orange Mobile cellphone and asked if the missing iPod mentioned in the enclosed card was a joke. Shocked, she said no. Later, we learned the person who packed the box at UPS had stolen the iPod before sealing package. So I read a lot of books on buses and trains and planes and between classes. The next package I received was from my parents. Hidden among the jars of peanut butter (I don't think y'all understand my deep love of this pantry staple!) and other surprises was a box the size of a glasses case. On the outside of the brown box Cross was embossed in gold foil. I dropped the care package on my bed and opened the smaller box (more carefully than my former Parker Vector). Inside I found a royal blue Cross Century II fountain pen with several black ink cartridges. I used this pen every day to take notes in my art history, literature, and Guerra Civil classes. I used this fountain pen when I sat (in-need of introverted recharge) and journaled in the sunshine on the steps next to the Roman aqueduct or in the shade of the scenic Alameda or outside La Colonial drinking chocolate. (Not realizing I needed to empty and clean the fountain pen before flying home, my Payne's Grey military-inspired jacket, which I bought in Barcelona, still carries a small black reminder next to one of its pockets.) While I loved this Cross fountain pen (and still do), I noticed I would become anxious not knowing how much ink was left in the cartridge or converter. I'm a planner and wanted to easily know if I had enough ink for the day. This might be a symptom of my low-key anxiety, which is conveniently complemented by post-traumatic stress disorder (a lovely gift from my doctoral program). How could I comfortably use fountain pens, if they were causing additional stress??? While scouring one of my go-to online stationery shops, JetPens, for new pen(cil)s and notebooks, I discovered demonstrator fountain pens. Demonstrators feature transparent barrels, usually clear, though sometimes shaded, allowing the writer to see how the pen's internal mechanisms work, and more importantly, how much ink is left. From childhood through adulthood, I've always been curious about how things work. I'd take apart any and every ballpoint or rollerball pen hand to me. My favorite question to ask has always been why?, which annoyed several teachers, both of my parents, and a few past supervisors. I need to know the how and why. (I think this is why I'm good at translating complex theories and systems and STEM concepts into understandable copy in my professional life.) While writing with demonstrators, I witness the mechanism in action. I see the ink move from the chamber, through the section, and down the feed using capillary action as the knife-like nib connects ink to notebook paper. I can monitor ink levels and the inevitable settling of shimmering elements. Demonstrators have become my go-to fountain pens by removing the unknown. Some demonstrators use visible cartridges or converters. Some are high-capacity eyedroppers (pens that don't use cartridges or converters, but instead are filled by loading ink directly into the barrel). Others have built-in filling systems (piston or vacuum), which free you from the messiness of converters and the waste of plastic cartridges. These are my favorite style of fountain pen. Having taught interdisciplinary courses on literature and Environmental Studies at the University of Kansas, I'm particularly drawn to this ecological angle of fountain pens. Not only can I see how much ink I have for the day, but also I am contributing less plastic waste by foregoing cartridges. The other thing I appreciate about demonstrator fountain pens is they show off the vibrant color of each new ink. Most of mine are inked with blue hues (see below), though one is loaded with Noodler's Borealis Black ink for boring official documents. I usually have four or five demonstrators inked at a time, as each model has its own idiosyncrasies depending on its weight, material, and nib size. Different inks also change the way a particular fountain pen writes. (The combinations of foundation pens and inks and papers is endless and a way to unleash my curiosity and experimentation.) One of the cool things about fountain pens is over time nibs conform to your individual pressure and style of writing. (Never lend someone your fountain pen; unintentionally and just by writing normally, they will fuck up the conditioning of your nib.) Your hand learns the singularities of a specific fountain pen and the pen adapts to your touch. It probably doesn't surprise you that I outlined and initially drafted this essay using a demonstrator fountain pen (TWSBI Eco with Noodler's V-Mail Midway Blue — see below). Writing by hand and especially with a fountain pen, slows down my anxious brain. Writing with demonstrators grounds me, in the way dog walks used to, in the way others use the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique. Writing with fountain pens allows to me to silence, to exorcise my anxious inner cop (more on this in the next post). Writing with demonstrators, with their exposed mechanisms and visible ink chambers, keeps me curious about the world and its machinations. And now that you've made this far, here are some of my favorite fountain pens and inks. Current Favorite Demonstrator Fountain Pens
Demonstrators on My To-Buy List
Current Favorite (Blue) Inks
Thank you very much for your time. If you have recommendations or curiosities, please fill out this nifty contact form. Sending y’all supportive, well-caffeinated vibes, Creighton Today’s Pen(cil): Sherpa WTF Pen Cover [Sharpie] |
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