A Major in Doodling

People ask me what my favorite class is (a lot).

I’m going to be honest.  I don’t have one.

All of them are on the same level.  Some days a certain class will be better than my other two.  Or sometimes one of my classes will be so boring that they other two are immediately better. 

It really just depends.  I like what I’m learning and I’ve learned a lot, but there’s not one class that really stands out above the others as my “favorite”. 

In my classes I tend to be a pretty good note-taker.

But I’m also a really good doodler—if I zone out my notebook paper will transform into all kinds of things. 

I’ve been like this my whole life and I think I get it from my Mom.  When I was a kid, I used to watch her doodle on a notepad while she talked on the phone.  She would draw all kinds of shapes in different ways—she was unconsciously a professional doodler.  Just because she doodled while she was on the phone didn’t mean she wasn’t listening to what the other person said, she just liked to doodle.

Now I'm exactly like her because that’s what I love to do…in class.  I had this idea that all my notes would be organized and wonderful and easy to read in college.  For the most part they are, but the margins tend to be lined with little drawings all the way up and down. 

I draw whatever I want.  Random squiggly lines, clouds, flowers, birds… I even drew the Colorado flag and colored it in.  I carry around a set of 10 Crayola skinny markers all the time.  They are a blessing and a curse in the sense that they are great for underlining things, but they are also great for coloring.  And I’ve definitely taken to coloring with them a lot more than I should. 

Today I drew a super man symbol.  It wasn’t my idea.  My teacher brought up a picture on his slideshow that reminded me of superman, so it was his idea, and I drew it.

It’s funny how things work.  I have a drawing class and when I’m in that class I don’t feel like drawing a thing, but I enjoying drawing and doodling in my other classes. 

Too bad there’s not a Doodling major.

But then again, if there were, I would have graduated long ago.  

Cracks & Butterfly Wings

This morning I went on a run, on my own, outside, in the rain.

The on my own part is important because I find it much more refreshing to run on my own terms than someone else's.

I ran up Queen Anne hill… twice. Because on the first time I didn’t get to the spot I was trying to reach. And the second time I did.

After I ended up in the wrong spot the first time I ran back down the hill so that I could start over and find out where I made a wrong turn. I carried my phone with me so I could listen to Muse and I tucked it into my jacket pocket so I could wipe the rain from my face.

During the 30 seconds it would have been in pocket it managed to fall out within the first 10.

It crashed against the pavement and I reached down to pick it back up, same as I always do if I happen to drop it.

This time was different.

I looked at the screen and realized that the nice sheet of glass that had originally been intact was now separated by various cracks into hundreds of pieces of glass.

You can only drop an IPhone so many times before it has enough.

Dang it. Dang it. Dang it.

I continued running when I realized that the screen at least still responded, and that it continued to work regardless of its fractured state.

When I reached the top of Queen Anne the second time I found the view I was looking for, though it wasn’t as beautiful as I remembered it. This was probably partially due to the phone incident.

After I got back to my dorm the first thing I did was call my Dad, just to let him know. It was birthday present from him, so I felt pretty bad. I did manage to have it for more than a year though, which is fairly impressive since I’ve known people who break theirs within the first few months.

For now I’m just going to keep it as it is—the cracks almost look like butterfly wings.

Chances are, after a few days, I won’t remember how it looked before anyway.