Self Analysis

I've always enjoyed writing. Although, I never took any classes in how to do it.  But, when a 20 page research paper got assigned in college, I think I was the only dork mouthing "yeeeeeeessss" under my breath from the back of the class. Plus a paper meant mandatory library hours where I could go ogle (please note this is not 'google', it didn't exist then) the books on so many topics I didn't know anything about (yet) so as to feel small, insignificant and kind of stupid.  You can analyze what this this means, but I already have:  I'm self deprecating and psychotic. (By the way, I'm super excited I used a colon there.  Correctly too, I believe.)

Photo credit: rankinwriting.wordpress.com

Fast forward some 20 odd years later.  There is no library card catalog because of google. While the internet has made it easy to access information without getting out of our pajamas, it's also corrupted our short term memories and stolen our ability to spell.  Guilty as charged.  Then out of the blue it happened, the last thing anyone would expect in this day and digital age, "Would you be my pen pal?"  Old fashioned letters on paper written in long hand with thought and intent, signed, sealed and delivered after weeks of suspense. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssss!

I have not hand written more than a shopping list or accusatory notes to my kids since college.  And as my kids tell me often, I have atrocious handwriting.  Also, I don't write in cursive. Ever.  I haven't since probably junior high.  Plus, I write in all caps, like I'm shouting at the reader.  I don't know why I do this.  But I figure, it probably means I'm destined to become a serial killer or something.

Exhibit A:  Sample of my handwriting

Of course, I forewarned my pen-pal about my handwriting.   Then he reminded me he's a 7th grade language arts teacher and if he can decipher the penmanship of tweens with calloused texting thumbs and twitchy x-box fingers, he would have no problem with mine.  Touche.  (No, I don't know how to make that little apostrophe thingy on there because I'm technologically illiterate. But I would totally add it in a letter.  Just sayin'.)

It was while I was writing a letter to my pen pal, which is in the same stream of consciousness style I write this blog with, that I pondered, with pen in hand, what my penmanship or lack thereof, meant.  And I immediately logged on to the library website and ordered some handwriting analysis books for some deep self analysis.  I mean, I think I should be the first to know if I'm destined to kill someone.

The most succinct graphology guide at my library.

GOOD NEWS:  I am definitively NOT a serial killer!  But, I am an efficient, non-superfluous, spontaneous, grounded, yet private person.  I feel like my pen pal in particular should know this about me because I have his physical address and he knows I have a penchant for swords.  I will neither stab you, nor kill you slowly smothering you in useless, unnecessary words.  I do wonder if takes a red pen to my letters though...

CORRESPONDING TWEET I TWEETED LAST WEEK THAT BOMBED, BUT I LOVE:

I briefly considered organizing a 'Save Graphology' 5k run. But I'm too lazy to hand write the invitations. Never mind the t-shirts.