This picture was taken more than a year ago, but it’s the same classroom

This morning, even though I was only a few minutes early for class, I was the first one there. This happens to me quite frequently, and I have two different ways of using that kind of time. One way, which is probably the better one, is to read over the notes from last class or to start rereading the reading for that day. The other way is to start writing something random, like a poem that I will never finish or a to-do list that isn’t any different from the one I was already following or the moves of a chess game that I won’t get very far in because it’s really tricky trying to play chess without actually seeing the board. (I haven’t done that for a while, which is too bad because I probably have thereby lost my ability to do it.)

Today, the random thing I wrote was a list of stuff I think I should write about in my blog in the relatively near future. (Lest ye think this means that I will start posting stuff on a daily basis, I will inform you that I actually make lists of future blog posts more frequently than I write blog posts.) I came up with sixteen of them, which conveniently happens to be the same as the number of lines on a page of the notebook I was using. The problem is that, as class started, I continued to think of more things to add to the list. I had to keep quickly pausing my note-taking in order to add a line in the little blue notebook. In my defense, many of these things were directly related to something the professor had just said.

There was some kind of event for prospective students today, so there were seven high school students visiting that class. I am amused to wonder what they thought about me. First of all, I was the only person sitting in the front row, and I was in fact sitting in the only desk in the front row. The desks had been rearranged at some point since class on Wednesday, but I felt that it was necessary to sit in my usual spot, so I moved a desk there. Before class started, I had explained my reasoning to my classmates and the visitors alike, and probably convinced everyone in the room that I was very strange. Then, because I was alone in the front row, the professor kept calling on me or randomly mentioning me.  At one point, he informed the visitors of my name for no particular reason. This made me so conspicuous that I am sure everyone noticed the notebook that was not-so-subtly hidden underneath the desk, a space which other people normally reserve for illicit cell phone use.

This little blue notebook is a recent addition to my life which aims to fill a similar role as the little red notebook that I filled up with random stuff during the spring of 2011. Most of the random stuff in that notebook was telephone numbers that I needed to call, to-do lists, and phrases written with my left hand in an effort to become ambidextrous, something which I still aspire to do someday. The random stuff in my current blue notebook, on the other hand, consists mostly of random thoughts inspired by things said in class, and the beginnings of really, really bad poems. It’s not that I intend to ever actually do anything with them; it just seems like a good idea to have a notebook on hand so I can write them down.

Having a notebook of random stuff seems to be something that labels me as the kind of person who is less likely to pull out a cell phone and text someone than to pull out a pen and make a hasty note-to-self that Dante was fascinating and that I must remember to be obsessed about him sometime when I’m not otherwise busy.

He looked kind of funny, though. Just sayin’.