My mood depends on the pen I use. Currently, I write with the blue ink of pontification. Where upon I reflect, turn inward to remember.
I save my black pen for hate mail. I could never write, “You dirty bastard batch of corporate bitch slime, you’ll burn like whisky farts in hell,“ with my blue pen, except of course in retrospect.
I save calligraphy for paying bills and writing checks. Cursive only when writing in the bath.
When I occasionally wait tables I use a shorthand hieroglyph system that all the line cooks seems to intuit and easily recognize. I spend most of my time carving woodcuts which I stamp on the back of postcards and drop into the confession box. The best thank you note is wrapped around a brick.