Today I found my notebook from college. It’s a small, black notebook full of grid paper. I carried it around for years and I used it for everything. I took class notes in it, wrote down assignments, drew comics of my professors, wrote countless poems and journal entries. Paging through it is a joy and a sadness. There are so many things I wish I could tell my younger self, warn her about and reassure her.
The best part of reading through it is rediscovering my bizarre sense of humor. So much of my life now is serious adulthood and I can’t help but feel that I’ve lost something that I once had. Thinking about, I think in a lot of ways Twitter has replaced some of the purpose of the notebook for me. I would jot down funny short thoughts, and now those usually get tweeted.
Here are some highlights:
A comic I drew of my math professor in college. My friends and I called him Dr. Dementor because he sucked all of the happiness out of life. For a while we had a plan to throw chocolate bars at him after the final, which of course never happened. I drew many comics staring him and the ridiculous things he said, but this might be my favorite. He is saying: “In the age of technology actually knowing how to do math is useless” the computer next to him is thinking: “Mwhahaha, the math professor does not suspect our plan!” And the student (probably me) is saying: “I beg to differ, sir. When the computers rebel it will be the only thing that can stop them. When sir, not if.”
Here’s another fun one:
Dr. Dementor shouts “Derive my puppets! Derive!” While we labor away on Calc Island. The clouds say “Do not attempt to simplify”. We had some strange classes, I guess.
The best part of my notebook so far is a short story called Swans, Ducks, and Automobiles. In it, my roommate and I go visit the duck pond. It’s not a very good story, but it is very silly and at times absolutely hilarious. Here is my favorite passage, from right after the ducks start attacking.
“They’ve finally turned on us! After all these years of Chick-fil-a commercials and hand fed bread, they’re going to eat us, starting with the fleshy underside of your arm!” I leaned forward, pretending bravery. The ducks scattered and I yelled more. “That’s right, I’m bigger than you! You’re going down! This is a war! Schnell, m$%##$f#$#$#@! Schnell!”
Later in the story the army comes to rescue us from the birds. They tell us that “The terrorists have finally swayed the swans to their cause, and the ducks followed soon after.”
It’s a very, very strange story, and like nothing I would ever write today. It’s fun to see where I was then, and to think about how much I’ve evolved in the past five or six years. I’m not the same strange girl I was back then, but I’ve grown into a quirky, thoughtful woman. As much fun as I’m having looking back, I’m excited to move forward.
I wonder what I’ll think of all of this five years from now?