Hey! Ryan here again.
I’ve been thinking – or rather, lamenting – on my penmanship for years. I’ve been disgusted with my handwriting for as long as it’s been since it stopped improving; that puts the impetus of my lamentation at about age 6, by my reckoning. Since it’s not likely to change anytime soon, I tried to think of other ways I could validate my handwriting style, which has been referred to more than once as “serial killer writing.”
I imagined a world where I was entrusted with typesetting every marketed, shared, or otherwise distributed item. Never mind that not even the local used car lot would appoint me with this task; indulge me for a second and imagine…
There’s a quiet dignity about it, I think. A personal touch. I mean, I’ve never wanted to eat at Red Lobster before, ever, until right now.
So that’s something.