Ciao, baby

Thanks to my new pals at JM Steno, I sold my old Stentura 200SRT student writer yesterday. I decided there was no point in keeping it around to merely collect dust, and the idea of making some cold, hard cash wasn’t totally unappealing either. Since I recently upgraded to my very first professional writer, the super smooth Diamante, I decided it was time to purge. Of course, I must admit that although my sassy little student writer had definitely seen better days, I still had a fond attachment to her and was slightly sad to see her go. After all, I have worked that little puppy to death these last couple of years, and I feel a little bad leaving her behind just as I’m on the verge of ending my journey through school, the same journey that we embarked upon together. Plus, she was my first “extra-limb.” You only have one first, you know.
I often joke, you see, that my machine is my “extra limb” because I sometimes feel that wherever I go, my machine is sure to follow. That little writer has simultaneously become my best friend, yet my worst enemy. It is my ticket to a future, yet it is that total pain in my butt that always gets in the way of a really carefree social life and it torments me daily when it comes to my battle to beat 225. Then, of course, there is the classic student – guilt complex. If I’m not using my machine, I am most certainly feeling guilty about not doing so. It consumes a huge part of my life. It is waiting for me when I come home from work. It is with me when I watch TV. I swear I even catch it glaring at me as I drift off to sleep all the while saying, “PRACTICE! PRACTICE! PRACTICE!” Yep, it is still there when I wake up. It is nearby when I sip my morning cup of Joe. Heck, that little thing has even accrued frequent flyer miles as it has travelled with me to places like California, Arizona, and Michigan. It’s as if it is ALWAYS present, quietly reciting the mantra, “PRACTICE! PRACTICE! PRACTICE!” Hence, the feeling that she is indeed an extra limb, and another crucial part to my existence.
Sadly, though, she has run her course. I bid ado to my little ol’ trusty student writer and say a fond farewell. Please know it’s not you, it’s me.


R.I.P. my little sassy stentura