The dullest pen is more expensive than any pencil...

 While intimated at briefly in the past, the subject of today's entry on the list of favorites is something for which I have received a significant amount of ridicule.  I use fountain pens.  Yes, they're more delicate than ball-points and ink-jet pens; yes, they do require ink refills about once a week.  So why in the world would I use such things save to get that much closer to being Indiana Jones or to foster a superiority complex?  Worry not, for I shall tell you.


 First off, let me state that I am not attempting to win any converts here.  Fountain pens are definitely not for everyone.  Perhaps in the next few paragraphs you'll understand that it takes a certain bent toward OCD to really push one into this kind of territory.  


 I am a big fan of functionality.  As a result of this, I had been using the same cheap, black, ink-jet pens since 8th grade.  I liked them because they had a fine point, a simple and elegant design, and laid down a consistent stream of ink.  In spite of this, I hated these pens, along with every other ball-point I've ever used because they were never consistent for long——no matter how much pressure you applied.  Being a retrophile, I had always thought fountain pens looked cool, and it didn't take more than a few cursory viewings of various web pages to determine that they were in fact made for me.  Stupid sounding, perhaps, but ever since I tried my first disposable Pilot fountain pen, I haven't gone back.


 Though its maintenance is somewhat more complicated than disposable Bic pens and their kin, fountain pens are actually much simpler instruments.  Essentially you have an ink reservoir that, when held at the appropriate angle (downward), will allow ink to flow into the tip of the pen, where it flows through a very small channel into the point which actually touches the paper.  In other words no moving parts and, my personal favorite, no pressure required.  I kid you not when I say that writing with a fountain pen is like using a tendril of air.


 The reasons I felt like the fountain pen was for me was because of its customizability, its permanence (I felt quite guilty throwing out 1-2 pens a week), and its improved capacity for actually writing.  There are hundreds upon hundreds of different ink colors in existence, a few of which I have claimed as particular expressions of my personality.  Furthermore, if you play your cards right and don't treat a fountain pen like it's a cheap Bic, it could be with you for decades——a sentiment I rather cherish in a society in which computers are built to last 3 years (optimistically), clothes 2-4, and most furniture and personal electronics 10 years.  Sure, my Waterman Phileas may have cost me $25.00 (which you'll see was an absolute steal), but in the long run it comes out to be a much cheaper option (in theory——more on that in a moment).  While I am by no means a bleeding-heart environmentalist, I still like good ol' planet Earth and it makes me feel a bit better to know that I'm not contributing nearly as many black plastic cylinders to my lifetime carbon footprint.  


 Should you make the switch to a fountain pen?  Probably not.  If you don't obsess over the fineness of pen points in an effort to optimize your style of handwriting, you'll be fine with whatever disposables you use now.  If you dig the environment too, there are more practical ways to save it than dropping 100 bucks on a fancy pen and a few bottles of ink——they're called pencils.  Besides that, most fountain pen users get a little too carried away and end up buying so many pens that they stand no chance of ever making up for the cost had they stuck to cheap ball-points (once again, I seem to pick up on midlife crises with unnerving reliability).  But if you do pay a little too much attention to handwriting and enjoy the notion of writing with a finely-crafted, precision instrument that could be an heirloom, by all means my friend, take the plunge...