I, like many other men and women on this planet, am afflicted with a disorder called “GAS”. “Gear Acquisition Syndrome” is a particularly tough condition to have, especially once you reach a certain age in life and you can afford to buy any darn gadget, gizmo, or thingy you want. Not that I’m wealthy, by any means.
Let me explain. Got a bad slice on the golf course? Well, I supposed you COULD go get yourself some golf lessons with the club pro, spend a few weeks driving buckets of balls downrange, and work it out of your system. Or… just hop on over to that pro shop and buy a new driver! Heck, they probably have one on sale for, like, $399! Look at the cool colors it comes in…no, not that one! That’s last year’s model, nobody plays with one of those anymore!
Musicians are even worse. “Honey, did you see that new Taylor at the music store? That axe is SWEET! Wow, did you hear how good it sounded? I didn’t think you would mind, so I used the credit card because it was on sale! Uh, well…” and then in a small, high voice…”$2500… or so…”.
Of course, after you throw down $900 for that new Stratocaster (there is nothing like the sound of a tortured Strat) you have to get a better amp, too. Hey, another $1200 could only help, right? Why, yes, I would like you add in a couple of those new foot pedals, too. Yeah, the handpainted ones are cool; do it!
I have now discovered a new GAS object. Pens. Big, little, light, heavy, pens are just freakin’ cool to me. I’ve had a couple of really nice ones that are a joy to hold. Their heft sort of implies they must be used for something important, so keep them someplace safe. And it’s a good thing I feel that way, because usually I just lose them after carrying them to work in my shirt pocket. I especially like the Levenger website, with their fountain pens, roller balls, and finer ballpoints. When I use something like that it just feels like I have something important to write down, even if it’s just “milk”, “eggs”, “cereal”, and “bacon”. I imagine using my pen (yes, mightier than the sword) to sign huge contracts at work, or perhaps I’ll change careers to, oh, the Foreign Service, or any other career that can only be written about with lots of capital letters and flourishes so I can wield that pen in a manner that has much import and meaning.
One of the most interesting sales reps that calls on me at the datacenter is a pen guy. Pen Guy makes his own. That’s right, it’s not enough for him to just run down to the Office Depot and bag any old Cross out of a display case. No, Pen Guy (ok, Roger) has a lathe in his shop, and he buys cool wood, drills a hole into it, spins it on the lathe, and makes those wood chunks into the hefty marvels that I long for. He gave me one a few years ago for Christmas (before our Corporate Compliance people went overboard with the No Gifts policy). I still have it: African blackwood ballpoint with gold hardware. I don’t take it to work; it would just disappear, and then my pen mojo would be gone. No, the blackwood stays home where it’s safe.
I’m not even sure of the point of this post anymore, but I do know the worst part of GAS, no matter what variety you have, is that any fix or high you get from trying to ease your GAS will go away as soon as the next catalog or web page pops up. I suspect my wife of running to the mailbox before me to remove those offensive catalogs. She might even be ordering extra scrapbooking catalogs, hoping to supplant my GAS into something “useful”. Ha! As though a set of scissors that make a curly cut could be useful… hey! Do those scissors really cut out that pattern? With just one squeeze? Whoa! That IS cool! Buy me a set, too, baby!
Kudos to odeevee for the cool Notebooks post that sparked my GAS energy.