the Right to Write: 10 items in my environment

1. Camera

Black and rectangular, its wristband trails like a fuzzy tail, as though a squirrel went through a dishwasher.

2. The postage scale

Atop my computer, a brighter silver than my CPU. It represents convenience, efficiency, the cost of $15 a month. I’m not even making enough these days to justify the cost, but I so love the convenience.

3. Rubber stamp

It reminds me of a judge’s gavel, with the wood handle. It looks so official. You’d never know it’s for stamping “please recycle” on all my packages.

4. The blue pencil holder

Purchased in a package with a bright blue stapler and bright blue scissors. The stapler and its matching remover broke or disappeared years ago. The scissors live in a box in my bedroom, where I use it in collage/art journaling. It is metal, smooth, reflective.  I remember how strangely my roommate looked at it when I first brought it home, back in that period between divorce and the next cohabitation.

5. Bluetooth

Black, tiny, the speaker phone pointing upward. I haven’t used it yet, and I don’t like it as well as my old bluetooth, the actual bluetooth. Given that the cyberman episodes of Doctor Who have left my terrified of these things, I’m surprised at my own brand preference/peculiar snobbery. It really is a stupid thing to care about, and brand preferences are in all but a few situations a manner of creating limitations rather than overcoming them.

6. Two bottles of acrylic spray sealer, with white caps and lavender labels.

Little gay army soldiers, standing at attention until I must complete my next act of decoupage.

7. Lavender scrunchy, strangely textured.

I took it off and forgot it – usually I just put my hair up with colored pencils. I probably wore this home after a workout.

8. The red stapler

Purchased after I started working for myself. It’s a good quality swingline, and makes a satisfying click noise. It’s come to represent the point where you can choose to be a victim, or to NOT be a victim. My former neighbor would often bitch about how his own red stapler was stolen; the moral of his story was “I was a victim.” Notably, he made no effort to take the stapler back. In the movie, the guy got his stapler and a lifetime on a beach vacation. NOT being a victim. A bizarre little talisman for me in my self-employed life.

9. The cigar box, with a Janus-like image of Antony and Cleopatra in a seal on the side.

I used to smoke cigars, but this I got from a woman off of Craig’s list. It houses post-it notes, still valid blogging ideas for Fat Chic. I haven’t touched it in over six months, as my energy is spread elsewhere.

10. A polished rock with a bear claw printed on it.

Picked up in a grab bag sale from a local occult shop; I don’t know of a particular meaning for it. The bear claw is a left claw, and I am left-handed, so I appreciate the association.