Care to see what we were writing?We found a pen and wanted to write about the origins of it.Where has this pen been?\n\nKaitlin: At one time it was lost under a cushion, and it feared it\'s ink would dry and therefore never get to speak or share.\n\nCody: It was at this time that it began to drain itself, hoping someone would reach in, get ink on their fingers, and at least be inspired to wash it off in a creative manner.\n\nKaitlin: All it could manage to leak out was one tiny drip. Not enough for anyone to notice until much later. It caused a fight about the unnecessary wear and tear of furniture. The pen was later discovered while somebody was looking for spare change to feed a nicotine addiction.\n\nCody: And from then on, the pen\'s life began to surface. The cigarette smoker grabbed it and dropped it outside moments later. You can tell the way a pen has lived by the amount of ink lost inside it\'s translucent plastic body. This pen had yet to really live.\n\nKaitlin: As paper beganto drain the ink, the pen started it\'s career as a story-teller, an artist, (if only silly doodles), and an outlet for the frustrated. It found the hands of those willing to share.\n\nCody: But time wore heavy on the pen. As he drained his life for the sanctity of life, he noticed he was either running out of ink...or running out of words. He decided words, and looked for a nice cushion to retire.\n\nKaitlin: As the pen looked back on it\'s life he remembered when the tiny tube of ink was not even a part of it yet. He was just a tiny plastic cylinder in a factory, on a belt with thousands of othershells of things that were unfinished products. The pen wondered about the fate of those other empty shells. Some probably went to math class and wasted all that beautiful ink on numbers, or went through the wash, or under a heavy tire on a busy highway, or worse yet spent their lives in a smokey bar, used only to sign the bill of alcohol tabs or scribble phone numbers on the hands of strangers. The pen decided that his fate was not so bad.\n\nCody: Or maybe, he briefly thought, he had wasted his ink on words most could never comprehend. The pen never viewed himself as a tool, though that\'s allhe ever could have been, and he often took great offense to ignorance, whether it be in contrast to his own futility or not. Even before he jotted a letter, he felt himself to be brilliant. Maybe all that time was his own ignorance.\n\"No.\" he thought, and stayed on a desk until it was time to createagain.\n\nAnd then our breakfast came. :) Cody, Journal, VidBlog, Video, Weber