The writing on the paper

To each of us, our very own theories about notes taking. To most of us, a technique is in place. The factors - time of day, subject in question, the crisp new notebook, classmate to the right, color of the chalk, contents of lunch- all twist and tweak the entire experience. But its been a constant, solid, inerasable part of all our student lives and the experience is worth taking a look at.
*Scene: Notes taking*
*Location: Classroom*
*Actor: Self*
Takes:
· Hand races, tries to keep up with mind. Each word heard is spilt onto the book with a loving perfection. “Blood rushes to my head- Perching precariously on the edge of the seat- I am actually in synch with academia.”
· Written with a tired exhaustion. “Is it time or what?”
· Scrawled across lazily. “Incoherent strings of letters on pieces of paper, pieces that I may not ever look back to.”
· Hand writes. Mind dreams. “You can’t get into my head and hold me ransom- heh!”
· Hands off the paper, Prefers to listen and take it in. “Its all about the learning”
· Or prefers to pretend to listen and take it in. “I care enough to pretend”
· Or not. “I don’t!”
There are people who know that their notes are legendary, that those words they write will be caressed by most Xerox machines in and around college. With such pressure and expectation to live up to, they willfully meet their challenges head on and keep writing. There are also people who are aware of and believe with strong conviction that whatever they write will never again be looked at, and relish the “memorylessness” of their white pages. Then ofcourse, there are the bunch of people with their pages of “hard-to-decipher-scrawling” and a handful of white pages thrown in here and there. Like I said earlier, to each, his own.
O, not to forget how the doodling and the notes exchanging, apart from spicing up said activity, present a range of “in her notebook she actually..” and “In that note he sent me..” stories that will outlive the relevance of the notes themselves.
After all, notes do document- apart from the subject- a slice of our lives, our moods and time.