I have had a love affair with pens from a very young age. As a left-handed writer, I remember handing in cursive worksheets with smudges on them, and deciding that pencils were the bane of my fifth-grade existence. When I heard that sixth graders were allowed to use pens in every class but math, I was ecstatic. I loved the fluidity that pens offered, and when I used them my handwriting was mostly legible. My goal was to acquire the best pens I could, and my allowance money was quickly disposed of as the search for "The Perfect Pen" began. I began to understand the metric system, but only as it applied to the size of pen nibs. Yes, there is a difference between .6 and .7 millimeter nibs, if you look closely enough. The lines they make are subtly different.
The boring blues, blacks, and reds of the lowly ballpoint pens pale in comparison to the peacock blue and fuchsia hues available in the nicer pens. My hybrid cursive/manuscipt writing improved though my ink color choices did not impress my teachers. Green was frowned upon, and hot pink was deemed too close to red, the "penultimate" choice of educators for corrections to be made.
Fast forward a few decades, and you will still find me carefully choosing the pens that will be gracing my shabby chic pen holder with their presence, next to the number two pencils, who always seem a little in awe of their glamorous new "neighbors." Just wait, pencils, until the Queen of Pens, the Lamy Safari, arrives in all her finery.