I realized shortly afterwards that never once, in the history of ever, have I questioned how these pens work. I mean, I knew the basics - tip, ink, pressure - but I never asked "how" in any sort of greater capacity. How awful is that?
These pens have been a part of my daily life for years, and I couldn't be bothered to fully understand how it is that they function?
There's actually a little ball in there (hence the name, you fucking spaz!) and it acts like those analog mice from the last generation of computers. The sides around the ball trap extra ink, and it all globs up until it gets knocked loose and that's why sometimes you get gross blobs on the paper as you write or draw.
And know why artists who use these pens as their preferred medium never have blobs of grossness on their work?
They're professionally trained and therefor their hands are just smarter than mine?
Magic?
They sold their soul to a devil for the low low price of no blobs?
No. None of these, which are all theories I've considered in the past.
Its because they're constantly wiping off their pens on a paper towel.
...why the hell did that never cross my mind? I've spent years - YEARS - thinking that I'm clearly just doing something wrong with my pens. Like I've got too much variable pressure as I use them, or maybe there's a lot of temperature fluctuation that others lack in their professional studios, or a dozen other technical reasons to rationalize why I sucked.
No, Jo. You weren't using a fucking towel.
So not only do I feel awful for never wondering how these tiny writing instruments work, other than "they just do," I also feel fucking stupid for never once thinking "just wipe it off" as a viable solution for the globs I've been plagued with since forever.
And now I'm sitting here questioning everything else in my life.
How many other things do I completely take for granted and not even wonder how they work?
What other things can I fix with a proverbial paper towel?
Why didn't I spend more time paying attention to simple machines in school?
How come I never tried harder to understand physics and go into astronomy so I could figure out how the Universe was formed and how it works and where all we fit into it?
How can I sit here and say I'm an open minded specimen of the human species if I'm so blasé about something that's been an integral part of my life for like 20 years?
Ballpoint pens are the worst.
I hate them.
I want to light them all on fire and you might as well toss Small Minded Jo in there with them so we can spend all of eternity harassing each other in the glorious afterlife.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go ramble in my stupid notebook with my dumb ballpoint pen that is just constantly mocking me now.
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