But I love taking notes...

So there's a couple of people in one of my lit classes who doodle and draw, all the time, the whole time. Occasionally they slump in their seats as if to change the inevitably monotonous routine. They seem mirror images of one another until you look closer, though. The first one, the guy, only draws outside of the margins of the notebook paper he's using for "notes." He clearly thinks he should be writing something down, so he keeps the white space clear just in case he feels like being a student. He even asked me today what he missed in class on Tuesday, as if some external action might contradict and change the internal mechanism. But of course he knows he won't actually take notes. He's just going to continue drawing. (He might, ahem, love coloring [even if it's spelled all British-like in the picture].)

The second one, a girl, draws everywhere. She's inside the margins, outside, up, down, everywhere. I swear I've seen her almost draw past the page onto the desk a few times, though she caught herself each time. This girl is not deluding herself at all. She's not taking any notes, and she knows the future is bleak for that situation changing. If it makes up for anything, though, she does draw class-related things. Today she was drawing "Huck Finn" in beautiful, calligraphic lettering with a light purple pen that she bought who the hell knows where. We've been on Huck Finn/Mark Twain for a two weeks now so her last few pages are riddled with "Jim's" and "Huck's" and "Twain's" within and without the margins.

But hey, at least she's not deluding herself. Notes are for losers, and she knows it.