Please sign on the dotted line
Wednesday, October 10, 2007, 7:20 PM
Sometime around the year 1992, I was big into handwriting analysis, I think because I was puzzled about the love letters I got from G at the time.
You know: was he serious, or full of shit?
And why did he break into my car and sit inside it that summer day when it must've been over ninety-five degrees in my car? I wasn't the type of girl who inspired this kind of reaction from guys, so he had to be nuts.
The librarian in me went right for the books.
G's Ls, Ps and Ts were loopy as all get out, which I thought was unusual for a guy. Most guys I knew wrote like serial killers--no dotted Is, no pretty Y loops, minimally crossed Ts--it was all a veritable horizontal slash of hentrackage I had to tilt my head to the right to read. If I could even tell one letter from the next, that is. But G's letters were roundly-formed as if he was exaggerating the words.
So I got this book on handwriting analysis and learned that loopiness can reveal strong emotion (good or bad). Writing in an upwards slant (like I tend to do) reveals an outgoing nature. Downwards, cold and reserved. A no brainer there, eh?
Although I had to Google a refresher on handwriting analysis (it's been over ten years since I read the book), I remember G was a Garland handwriter: ...a soft, easily stroked connective depicting the writer who is receptive, compliant and easy going. He may be warm and sympathetic, empathetic and sentimental. He is open and responsive to the people and the environment around him. The writer who uses many garlands is often said to be "people oriented". He feels before he thinks. But he was also a bit egotistic, something that got us into trouble at the end.
...and I am an Arcade handwriter: Usually mixed with other connectives, the arcade is used by the creative personality. This writer is a constructive thinker, one who deliberates before making up his mind. He may use this slow and deliberate action as a form of cautious contrcl and self protection. My writing also revealed I wasn't much into physical activity and might even be lazy!
I fell in love with him. I didn't have much of a choice. His evenly-proportioned loops seduced me, dammit.
Meanwhile, I continued to handwrite on narrow, college-ruled notebook paper. My letters had to be perfectly spaced, the words and paragraphs mostly uniform and smudge-free. I'd rewrite a double-sided page if I wasn't satisfied. I did stop dotting my eyes with Os, as that was wasted effort, fuh cripes sake.
So. My handwriting (still) reveals I'm an artiste. Constrained by aesthetics, defined by space.