Like many people, I have special pens, paper, and other stationery supplies on my desks at home and stashed in various places around the apartment. I keep more stuff at work on my office desk. But how do people decide what to carry them? What goes back and forth, how much of it, and why? For me, it used to be relatively little, my 11” MacBook, bullet journal, research notebook, and a small pen case. To my surprise, when I started returning to campus, I found the pandemic had changed this. A lot. In discussing this on The Pen Addict Slack, I’ve found I’m not alone in developing a need for “emotional support pens.”¹

Background

It isn’t news that I take comfort in physical things and develop a fondness for familiar objects, combining anthropomorphizing with sentimentality. My grandparents’ 1930’s stainless steel sugar bowl, a wedding gift that was always on their kitchen table, has lived next to my coffeemaker since my grandmother died more than a decade ago. I look at it daily, sometimes touching it, while my coffee brews and remember my “Nana” and her gift of unconditional love. This everyday ritual began as a way to push back against crushing grief — continuing still as a kind of prayer. Likewise, since my mom died, I have made a point of wearing something of hers every day, sometimes jewelry, sometimes clothing, a lot of times both.

I’ve detailed purchasing my first fountain pen as a talisman to take to my dissertation defense. It will always be my most comforting emotional support pen, always the one I find most beautiful. Other examples would be searching for and finding just the right leather portfolio and pad to bring to job interviews. I could give way too many examples here.

Enter the pandemic, working from home, and what my university’s emails call “Return to Campus.”

Pandemic Pens

I’ve been fortunate enough to work largely from home since mid-March 2020, when my university closed the campus to students, faculty, and all but essential staff, moving all of our classes online. It was a good decision; our students are part of the Los Angeles communities hardest hit by the pandemic.² We didn’t resume in-person classes³ until February 2022; my classes for this semester are still online.

This safe, work-from-home experience of the pandemic reflects the privileged, fortunate academic life I get to lead. I made a few trips to campus for books between March 2020 and January 2022, but mostly I’ve worked from home. “Going to the office” has meant various spaces in my apartment and my dad’s dining room table and patio. I’ve also bought a lot of “reward” pens, sometimes for something that in “normal times” would be ordinary, like finishing grading for the semester.

This past November, my university started sending emails preparing us to “Return to Campus” (shades of Star Wars?) and offering workshops to help deal with return anxiety. We could go to campus again, making me realize I was afraid to go. To get used to being away from home and among other people again, I decided to come in at least one or two days a week. I first went in for a few hours on a Saturday and cleaned my office. It was uncanny. All the forgotten things — stapler, a mug of pens and pencils, reading glasses, various chargers and adapters— my campus office held things I’d forgotten existed.

When I got home, I started gathering things I wanted to bring to campus and putting them on the kitchen table. I pulled out my reliable Briggs and Riley backpack and filled it. Then I kept adding things, reasoning that once they were all out, I could pick what I thought I really needed.

On the table (sorry, no picture.):

• 12 inch MacBook (rose gold)
• 13 inch MacBook Pro (university’s)
• Charger and adapter case
• Journals and notebooks:
  • Bullet journal
  • Hobonichi Cousin (Pelikan Red Black in loop)
  • Research journal
  • Blogging notebook
  • A5 Rhodia dot pad
  • A4 Rhodia lined pad
• Rickshaw coozy case and coozies containing eight inked fountain pens
• Pen case containing:
  • 10 Zebra Sarasa Clip .05 (assorted vintage colors)
  • 10 Zebra Sarasa Clip .05 (assorted brighter colors)
  • 5 Tombow pastels
  • Sakura Micron .03
  • Tombow mono correction tape
  • Papermate automatic pencil .05
  • small Frisker scissors
  • Staples glue stick
• Washi tape (two boxes)
• Journaling stickers (a box and two folders)
• Briggs and Riley backpack
• Masks
  • surgical
  • N95
  • Matching (fabric mask that matched what I was planning to wear)
• Travel mug
• Protein bar
• Hard candies
• Tissue box

Not pictured but included In my purse:

• Hobonichi Weeks (Retro 51 in loop)
• Rx glasses:
  • Sun
  • Computer
  • Reading
• gum
• Epipen
• Kleenex pack
• lip balm
• hand cream

I surveyed it all. Put some stuff back but then took it and still more out, adding a few books. Finally, the pile only getting larger, I went to bed.

In the morning, I delayed leaving, dithering about what to take. I packed as much as I could in the backpack, but there was still too much to carry. Finally, frustrated, almost an hour after I planned to leave, I decided to bring everything, stacking the piles in a rolling Staples crate.

Part of me knew this was ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t put anything away. There was more space because of the crate, so I added a box with all my stickers and even more washi tape for good measure. I was thinking things like, “what if I want to journal in the office? I’ll need my supplies.” This despite barely having time on campus pre-pandemic to write lists my bullet journal.

Out of all of that, in the four hours I was on campus, I used:

• One fountain pen – my Pelikan M400 white tortoise
• Bullet journal
• Sun glasses
• Reading glasses

These things all came out of my backpack. Everything else stayed packed in the Staples crate until I trundled it home.

A week later, I cut back, fitting everything in my backpack, purse, and large tote bag.

This past week I managed to only bring my purse and backpack. Yet, for whatever reason, I can’t let go of the idea I need many pens and journaling supplies in my office.

In my backpack:

• University MacBook
• Charger and adapter case
• Bullet journal
• Hobonichi Cousin (Pelikan M400 Red Black in loops)
• A4 Rhodia lined pad
• Rickshaw coozy case containing eight inked fountain pens and an Airtag
• Pen case containing:
  • 10 Zebra Sarasa Clip .05 (assorted vintage colors)
  • 3 Tombow pastels
  • Sakura Micron .03
  • Tombow mono correction tape
  • Papermate automatic pencil .05
  • small Frisker scissors
  • Staples glue stick
  • four rolls of washi tape
• Travel mug
• Protein bar

In my purse:

• Hobonichi Weeks Wallet (Retro 51 in loop)
  • Masks
  • surgical
  • N95
• Rx Glasses:
  • Sun
  • Computer
• A Smithsonian Retro 51.
• Epipen
• lip balm
• hand cream
• keys
• emergency grocery tote bag

Though I don’t use most of this, and it’s far from minimalism, my “carry” is improving. Normally I could skip the charger bag and reading glasses as I have adapter cables and spare glasses in my office. However, in the days since I started this post, the floor of my office is on has been “evacuated” because someone forgot to file renovation plans with the city and now can’t find the plans (yes, really), meaning I’m in a temporary office until the state fire marshal says we can move back.

What about you? Do you take comfort in having your pens with you? Are you bringing more of your own stationery supplies with you to work?

I’ve switched to writing posts in Markdown on Ulysses because dealing with WordPress’ block editor was driving me nuts. By comparison, Ulysses is elegant and a delight to use. Any weird linking is because I’m still working out how to make connections between WP and my Ulysses account.

Meme image was created from the brilliant work of Allie Brosh, author of Hyperbole and a Half. Per her permissions rules, this note (hopefully) links back to her originating blog post.

¹“Emotional support pens” is the term someone on Slack says her wife uses to refer to fountain pens she’s carrying on any given day and how their number reflects her mood/anxiety level. ↩

²Even typing this is hard. The losses that some of my students have experienced and continue to suffer are difficult to comprehend, especially given that I’ve had the privilege of keeping my family and myself safe. ↩

³Some classes – labs, studio art, dance, etc. had very restricted campus meetings before this, but most classes were online. ↩