Truth is Such a Rare Thing
“Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it.”
(Entry below was handwritten on 2/5/2002 except for the last paragraph, which I just added today)
I forgot where I read this, but Emily Dickenson used to write a word down, or even just a letter down on a page, and just look at it. She would admire its beauty and shape. I wish I had that kind of fascination with letters and words.
I mean, I love language but I’ve never really admire it aesthetically. I actually forced my handwriting. The way I write is not instinctive. I kind of trained my hand to write this way- upright and kind of bubbly, or at least it used to be. Now it just looks awkward and strange.
I remember being scolded in seventh grade for changing my handwriting from one day to the next on a spelling test. My teacher wrote that I “couldn’t do that.” I thought: why not? I was able to, wasn’t I?
I don’t even remember the shape my handwriting used to take, but I never thought writing slanted was right. In high school I had a poet friend who only wrote in print. It was like part of her personality. She avoided script altogether and I really admired that. It made her writing so distinctive. Everyone knew it was her writing right away.
I wonder what my handwriting would look like if I didn’t force it. But now it’s hard to get out of the habit and write another way. When I look at the back of a page of my handwriting, it looks slanted and organized, the way I would imagine it’s supposed to look from the front.
I read once in a journaling book, that it was OK to match your handwriting to your mood, like write tight and small and constrained when you’re feeling stressed, or big and loopy when you’re feeling happy and joyful. Your handwriting can reflect your feelings. Oddly, I tend to write straighter and more neatly the deeper I am into writing and the more I feel myself getting into a flow. Everything with me is the opposite of the norm.
Leave a Comment
Be the first to comment!