Assignment Notebook OCD

I call it Assignment Notebook OCD. I’m sitting in class, just minding my own business when I reach for my backpack. I grab my assignment notebook and start flipping through the pages even though I'm pretty sure it hasn't changed since the last I opened it a few minutes ago. This is typically what I do before class starts. Look at my assignment notebook and try to figure out how I’m going to get all that work done before I can relax at the end of the day. It can be intimidating actually. Especially when I get exceedingly studious and write down, “Start Paper!” even though it’s not due for a month. This paper shouldn’t even be on my mind, yet I wrote it down in the assignment notebook. It will bother me. It lingers over my head. It will make my heart beat faster. I can’t get comfortable in my seat. I cross my legs, then switch and cross my other legs. It's not working. Gosh, why did I do this to myself? I have to get this paper done now.

I want to leave class. I have too much homework to do. I can’t possibly get any of it done if I sit in this class and I certainly won’t be able to, “Start Paper!” But then if I leave class I’ll worry about what I missed and there might be a quiz. OK, I’ll stay. I close my assignment notebook, take a sip of water, and try to relax. The lingering minutes before class is the only time I can daydream. When I was kid I daydreamed for probably 8 hours, at least. School was easy enough where I could daydream through classes, while doing homework, or even reading. I had a wicked good imagination then and I was better at Madden too.

Now I don’t have much of an imagination and I'm not all too good at video games either. I’m too serious. I’m not practicing my daydream skills anymore. This upsets me. Aside from the few minutes before class, I don’t even know when I daydream or what I daydream about. Walking from one class to the next would be a perfect time to daydream, but usually it’s too cold to think of anything else except, “Are my nipples so hard they’re sticking through my fifteen layers of clothing?" I could always daydream in the bathroom, but even there I'm conscious about about my aiming and making sure water doesn't spill all over my pants after washing my hands.

So here I am, sitting in class, waiting to start taking notes so I can find a study lounge and start cranking out all my homework when someone sits down next to me. I’m not surprised, I smell pretty good and there isn’t much room anywhere else in this lecture hall. I use my peripherals and examine who is sitting next to me. Well, he’s big. Check that, real big. Big enough that it looks like on weekends he travels from one pie eating contest to the next. Maybe that’s why he is breathing so heavy, he probably just came back from a pie-eating contest over in Mason or Dewitt. Oh jeez, I have a pumpkin pie flavored candle in my bedroom back at home, I wonder if he can smell it on me. Of course he can, I think, that's why he sat next to me in the first place. If he has good day dreaming skills he is probably imagining I look like I big ol' pumpkin pie. Thank God he is on my left side. I'm right-handed, I can afford to lose my left arm, I guess.

Where I lack in daydreaming abilities, I make up for with good peripheral vision. I notice he is looking at his own assignment notebook. I can’t see what’s written, I’m assuming it’s something about pie eating contests but I’m not sure. He is crossing stuff out, re-writing stuff, and flipping through papers all at once. Maybe this guy has Assignment Notebook OCD like me too. Yep, he must, because he puts it away for a minute then grabs it again. Next thing I know, he is crossing his legs, looking at his watch, looking at his assignment notebook. Oh, this guy has got it bad...worse than me. I bet his mind feels like it’s about to explode. Shoot, I hope he didn’t write down, “Start Papers!” If it’s more than one paper on his mind, there is no way he can sit through this class.

And I’m right. With in minutes, my neighbor with the hearty appetite is gone leaving me alone with my out-of-prime daydreaming skills and an assignment notebook holding me in its clutches.

Experiments with a Word Cloud

While putting off homework, reading, and basically anything related to work, I came across The Iowa Review's website. And on their page they had a really neat feature that compiled all the words from one of their issues into a word cloud. They used a website called Wordle.net so naturally, I began experimenting. I typed in the address for this website and here's what they churned out.

























But I didn't really like these so I made my another batch of clouds using some of my own words, color combinations, and fonts.

Experiences of a Live Reading

My experiences following a live author reading.

I really didn’t know what to wear. Is this a formal event? Do I dress up? Khaki pants and a dress shirt? Do I keep it casual? Jeans and a sweatshirt? I figured there’s nothing wrong with being comfortable so I opted for the jeans and a sweatshirt. When I arrive at Morrill Hall, a building as stately as it is dilapidated, my nerves are settled when I see another student wearing jeans. At least I won’t be the only person looking like a bum. Then again, I’m an English major, who am I trying to impress?

I grab a seat towards the front. Well, more like the middle. Sitting in the very front would put me in close proximity to the author and I don’t even know this woman. I wouldn’t want to make it awkward between us. I also don’t want to sit in the back either where I’m more likely to doze off. Even though I will later learn during the first reading, sitting in the middle of the room can’t protect me from the sudden onslaught of sleepiness.

At first, I was hoping to hear a new piece of the author’s work. I had already read two of her pieces previously and I had enjoyed them very much. Thing is, I like reading instead of being read to, but I didn’t know this at the time. I began daydreaming during the first reading.

Were those pretzels on the refreshment table?

Shoot, my jeans have a black stain on the knee.

Why is it so hot in here?

After concluding I’d have to wash my jeans, but still debating whether I had actually seen pretzels, the first reading ended. What did she even talk about? Talent. Yes, something about talent I thought. Then she began her second essay and her words were familiar. I just read this piece a week before. I sat back and enjoyed her words. After she answered some questions I rushed out of the room. It was hot and I could feel the perspiration building on my brow. I quickly glance at the refreshment table on my way out. The aforementioned pretzels were actually coffee stirrers. No worries, I grab a peanut butter cookie.

Ben Franklin's Schedule

After taking a closer look at the schedule I noticed something. Aside from the fact the dude never slept or ate snacks, he began each day with a question, "What good shall I do today?" He ends the day with a similar question, "What good have I done today?" It seems like people have no time to answer these questions. I wake up and immediately I'm in a rush to get ready for class. I don't have time to think about what good I could possibly do. The same can be said for the end of the day. By the time I'm winding down, the last thing I want to do is relive the day, unless it was Christmas.

Ben Franklin was an interesting guy. He invented stuff. Like the Franklin Stove, bifocals, and lightning rods. He played instruments and chess and even wrote books. He was a politician. He signed the Declaration of Independence and served as an ambassador in France. He was the first Postmaster General and ran his own newspaper. He was an activist. He started clubs so people could meet and discuss how to make their cities better. He had a moral compass guided by the same 13 virtues he wrote as a 20 year old. Tell me this guy wasn't legendary. I mean, he did just about everything. I can't help but wonder what kind of coffee he drank in the morning.

I want to have a life like that. I want my skills, accomplishments to transcend industries. I want to own businesses or a racing team, be a politician, write books, contribute to a newspaper, be a college professor, and work in advertising. I'd like to become a better cook, learn how to fix cars (or anything for that matter), drink all different types of coffee, try all different types of food, and live in different countries. I'd like to spend and waste less, learn to channel my thoughts, angers, and emotions, and be a better person. Ben Franklin died way back in the 1700's yet the man is still teaching me a thing or two about a fulfilling life.

The World Will End Because of My Luck

I will probably never do anything very admirable. I will never fight in World War II or the Korean Conflict like my grandfathers. I won’t live on a farm, grow crops, and feed people like my grandmother. I won’t work for the state advocating for the rights of senior citizens like my mom. The most admirable thing I’ll ever do is probably have kids. Even then, everyone has kids, so what’s admirable about that?

Even if I grew up during World War II or the Korean Conflict, I wouldn’t have done anything admirable anyways. Mostly because I’m unlucky. I know how luck works and in that understanding I know I don’t have any. I can see it now. I’d be drafted and like the millions of other optimistic Americans, poised to save Europe from fascism. Unfortunately, I’d get food poisoning while at basic training. Doctors at the time would misdiagnose my food poisoning for some rare disorder. They would use experimental drugs as treatment and I’d lose the use of one of my eyes. I wouldn’t be able to fight in the war, I’d never see action, and I’d return home after being discharged and work in hardware store.

Heck, what if I didn’t get food poisoning and was never discharged? I’d probably get shipped off to some country where people only eat potatoes and cheese. Already I’m unlucky, I hate potatoes. Even here I wouldn’t see action, but at least I was serving my country, right? After my first week in this country, I’d eat a bad piece of cheese. I’d get dysentery. With this dysentery I would somehow lose the use of one of my eyes. I would inevitably be medically discharged, return home after never seeing action, and most likely end up working in a hardware store.

Let’s say I was on the Titanic. After drinking too much coffee, I’d scold myself as I searched for a lavatory. I would find a small bathroom in the hull of the ship with a quaint nautical theme. As it would turn out, this particular lavatory would be in the direct line of the infamous iceberg. While standing at the urinal, appreciating the nautical art, the iceberg would rip through the walls. I would be the first casualty of that infamous night. I wouldn’t even have the chance to carry terrified women and children into lifeboats. So much for trying to be admirable.

Sure, this is all speculation, but I’m unlucky. Things like this happen to unlucky people. I’m amazed I haven’t been hit by lightning, attacked by a shark while swimming in a lake, or trampled by a herd of rickshaws. If the world ends in 2012, as it’s predicted in the Mayan calendar, it’s because of my bad luck. I would be the sole reason all life as we know it would cease to exist. Even then, I wouldn’t be able to witness the world imploding in on itself because I’ll be asleep. See, it would be just my kind of luck to fall asleep during the end of the world.

Like I said, I’ll never do anything admirable and my excuse is simply bad luck. I want to do something amazing, I really do. I daydream about saving someone’s life, stopping a bank robbery, or helping an old lady walk across the street. I imagine winning the lottery and then donating the millions to charities across the world. Thing is, I would never win the lottery. And if I did win the lottery, it would be revoked after a glitch in the lottery system is revealed. See? I can’t even donate money to help others because I’m unlucky. Before I can even do something admirable, something unlucky happens. A fluke? A coincidence? I don’t think so.