Randomness is Random

Rather random, as I do…

I once dabbled a bit in calligraphy. Enjoyed it as a boy. Okay, honestly, that was about 35 years ago.

I discontinued it because other things drew my interest. I rediscovered it a few years ago. My scratchings were, then, as poor as one might assume they were, but I did enjoy picking up a quill every now and again and scrawling out a few words in a notebook while on a conference call:

Fast forward another two years or so and, well, gravity struck… hard… and secondary to the trauma from impact came this wonderfully enjoyable experience: agraphia.

After I’d overcome that oh-so-enjoyable, year-long, inability to write, followed by another year of slow, no… effing ponderous proprioception-induced chicken-scratch and then forcing myself every day for three months to write notes for several hours per day, I now find myself pondering picking up a nib again.

I have collected a number of statements, quotes, quips, and one-liners that I could dash off, but I haven’t anywhere in The Burrow that I’d write apart from perhaps in my Poäng.

So, when I assemble my desk, I’ll see that I can readily move the keyboard and track-pad aside leaving enough room to explore a few different writing styles.

And, of course, homeschooling the kids as we do, I’ll see that I create enough space to teach the kids some D’Nealian or similar.

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