MindWind

Gracefully (or so I visualized myself at that time), I swept the pen and the clip pieces off the table and hurried off to a corner where I would be relatively less-visible for prying eyes. It was beautiful in make, your average Atlas Chooty… blue ink, clear plastic body and blue highlighted tips on both ends, its silver colored metal ball point painted in its own blue carbon ink. The clip was apparently not from this pen, but a black one.

Ah joy to think that MY clip and this pen could now obviously become one, leaving this unfit, broken and incompatible clip to become obsolete. The broken clip was mended almost effortlessly leaving me to realize that this clip indeed deserved this pen, although it was different in color and was broken at first. My impression was of an interracial marriage where one partner is bedridden for sometime. Who am I to interfere with such a sacred union?

With mixed feelings, I set the pen and its clip down and moved away from the desk, just in time to see their rightful owner come sit there with a glass of water and several biscuits in hand. I smiled to myself and the clip in my hand. Should I give up hope now or should I continue this mad search? When does a warrior give up? When does the hero give into the madness that surrounds him?

“The warrior does not give up. The hero does not give in to the madness that surrounds him.” A little voice inside my head spoke with conviction. That really didn’t answer the questions but I suppose it would have to do for now. There was nothing else left to do but to go onwards with my quest. Like a knight of fantasy, I rode off away from my cluster of desks to the distant land in the corner off the office where the Provider of Water is.

Upon reaching the Provider of Water, I extracted some of the sacred liquid from it to quench my thirst from the long journey. Warily I looked around to see who and what was available. An empty conference area to my left looked promising, so I walked towards it to see if it held the object of my desire: a clipless pen.

I found nothing on top of that conference table except for a fancy looking office phone with a digital screen on it. I like those phones. You can use them for called ID, SMS and stuff. I always wanted to have one of my own although I didn’t want to pay the bills. Thus are the conflicts in my head.

In desperation, I happen to come across an old ally; none other than Deshan (known as Mahmar the Magnificient), and since he was a good soul that routinely exhibited his gluttony alongside me, I did not wish to steal that which is his. So, I politely ask Mahmar for a pen, to which he agreed without much thought, for he truly is Mahmar the Magnificient: lender of clipless pens!

Gleefully, I used the clipless pen to make my list, and the weight of the universe itself seemed to ease away from my mind. It’s amazing how light you feel once you organize the chaos in your mind to something coherent. It gives you a plan of sorts to work with. And a plan is what I needed.

After writing my list, I leaned back on my chair and remembered the penless clip that was still in my clenched left hand (now covered by several layers of my corrosive sweat (my sweat is corrosive, as some of you may know already)), and I was happy to see that it was safe. Gingerly, I cleaned the little one and brought pen and clip together. They were never designed for each other, as the clip was an Atlas Chooty, and the Pen was something I had not seen before (probably something from a fancy institution or conference); but they fit together perfectly.

Thus I learned from this experience:

1. Pens are endangered in my company (or at least my floor).
2. People stick around their pens way too much.
3. Some pens and clips are just meant to be together.

Happily, I presented Mahmar the pen, the clip and my compliments, for which I got a gracious reply.

I sit down on my seat again, a happy man. I had conquered my madness and prevented a clip from its untimely disposal.

Wait; does this mean that there is a lonely pen out there somewhere without its rightful clip? Have I done the right thing? Was it ethical? Who am I to do such deeds? I am not divinity certainly… or am I? What is the purpose of my existence? When did this all begin? How do I know if all this is real?

Perhaps the madness will never end. *sigh*

Note: This note was written on the 8th of January, 2009

Pens. You’d think they were a common item in a modern office. You’d think they’d be lying around on everyone’s desks. You’d think that you could just find them lying around, unsupervised, unused; ready to be taken by anyone who needed it dearly. I thought so too, until today.

Today was yet another day in my life. I would not call it normal. I would call it mildly depressing. Why? Because I couldn’t really sleep the night before. I did sleep for about six hours I’m sure, but somehow I felt as tired as I was the previous day when I woke up this morning. Sleep never seems to satisfy me. I long for feeling as fresh as my peers do in the morning. I hate seeing them so cheery sometimes. Jealousy I’m sure. But I dislike them vehemently, as I see them engaging in happy conversation smiling away… gloating of their obvious luxury of restful sleep. How I envy them.

But today is not about sleep. Today is about pens. Let me tell you about it.

Due to my stressful condition in the morning, I felt disoriented and angry at the slightest of things. I concluded that this was largely due to the overwhelming number of tasks I had to accomplish during the day, which kept escaping the disorganized chaos of my mind. Hence, I decided to make a small task list (I am famous for my task lists… ask anyone from MY company) in order to solve this little issue.

Normally I prepare all my task lists on my computer on a simple txt file. But today, I was obligated to hang around a friends’ computer since I had to work with him on a small feature of a project I am assigned to. Therefore, the logical choice was to write it down on my office notebook, where I avoid scribbling and poetry in order to appear more “normalized” to office staff (does wonders to your appraisals when they see grotesque sketches on your notebooks).

But alas, I noticed that my pen was missing, which was rather odd since I could almost remember that I had placed it safely in my drawer. Searching for my pen was futile, so I thought of borrowing one from a friend.

But then, an urge swept through me. I wanted to STEAL A PEN. I know it is ridiculous for me to steal things at my age (especially pens), but I suppose this was a resurrection of an old habit. I used to steal things from my classmates and return it to them in stealth by the end of the day back at school. It was one of the many ways I used to entertain myself back then. Ah what a pathetic life I used to live.

Returning to the present, or rather the immediate past, I began scanning the area for a vulnerable pen that was not under the watchful eye of an owner. It surprised me that no one seemed to have pens lying out in the open around me, which was a strange thing since this was supposed to be an office where people routinely signed things. But then again this was also a software company… I suppose computers had finally killed the necessity for pens.

My friend Shariq sat next to me placidly staring at his screen, reading some Flex thing to help him with whatever Flex thing he was working on. I stood up from my seat and hovered over his desk searching for a possible “victim”. To my disappointment he had only a clip of a pen and not the pen itself. It was impossible at that time and angle to steal the clip from him without him noticing so I politely asked him if this clip was his, to which he answered that it was not and that there was no pen attached to it. This mildly surprised me as I had not inquired him of a pen, but it is the pen rather than the clip that I needed.

Since it was not his, I casually picked it up and walked away from him. I saw the reflection of his puzzled stare at me on the glass door that was next to my seat. I walked off towards the friend I am working with, scanning for pens on the way.

There was absolutely no pen to be found in anyone’s desks. When I did find a pen, it was casually tucked into a desktop organizer, which was in the visual range of its owner. This made them impossible to be stolen. A distraction would have done the trick, on hindsight. Perhaps I was too rusty to attempt such a thing and succeed with smoothness. Ah how low confidence hinders things!

I went towards the desks on the corners of the office. They were piled with fully functional keyboards and mice, each one of them so much more expensive than my objective. But no where was a pen to be found. Pens were extinct here.

Then I saw it: a vacant desk, whose occupant had obviously gone out for lunch or some other endeavor, consisting of a singular laptop, a disassembled clip (with the lid and the little plastic clip on thing taken apart), and a PEN. My heart beat faster as I circled the area, watchful of neighboring programmers who would spot my crime. This was it! The Pen I had been looking for… But there was a clip. An offensive little clip. So this pen already had a clip! But perhaps my clip can replace it, so that the penless clip maybe finally happy that it was not penless anymore.

But I would take this other clip regardless and see if I could put it back together again. After all a broken clip would deserve to be whole again and should be treated differently to unbroken clips just because they were so. Discrimination was always something I sneered at.

With a racing heart and salivating mouth, I swooped down upon my prey.

To be continued….