I learned about the misuse of force when I was young. It was a lesson from my father. Let's just say that the values of a united ping-pong-playing family discourage the destruction of a new, olympic-grade sporting table, even if it's an accident. If my father wasn't in such a teach-worthy mindset at that moment then I do imagine that the impact of the broken table would have been well shadowed by anger. Lucky girl that I was that afternoon. As it turns out, there was a particular way to fold that table to ensure that the aluminum won't bend and contort into a standing piece that even Forest Gump probably wouldn't be able to master when playing against.
"If something requires more than normal amount of force without give, then stop what your doing. Something is wrong. Rethink your approach", is about what father dear bestowed upon me information-wise.
Today I was reminded of that time when working with a highly textured paper. Since I've incorporated the use of various metal points into my calligraphy work I've discovered that there are different subtleties that affect how I write. Learning to adjust has been the key. Even though my mother's dropped jaw and my sister's "glad I didn't do it" giggle might imply a rethink of whether that encounter was really worth experiencing, I'd beg to claim otherwise. Had I not jabbed the family table tennis board, I might not have that little voice of reason that reminds me to be more methodical and contemplative of my direction when something isn't quite smooth. Seems to me that that lesson carries through not only into calligraphy (definitely photographic scenes too) but also into so many parts of my life.