At the start of Fall Semester, I was determined to make myself the best student ever. At the time, being the most diligent, hardworking person meant recopying my sloppy lecture notes into an organized, colorful notebook. Needless to say this system did not work out for the best. It took forever to recopy pages. The process consumed time and energy coming up with creative ways to decorate the pages. I quit this whole "recopy my notes" process about a month into the semester. Turns out I did just fine in my classes studying off sloppy handwriting.
Mid-December, I was left with notebooks that only had three pages of text and a binder full of looseleaf notes. The smart thing to do would have been to tear out the few pages I had used and start afresh with next semester's first-draft notes. I am still trying to figure out why I decided to finish recopying all my notes over winter break instead. Was it out of boredom? Am I trying to prove a point?
For the longest time, I wanted a project I would complete. I wanted to put work into something and have results to show for it. I suppose forcing myself to organize these lecture notes puts me at ease. It lets me know I set a goal and fought to complete it.
Yet, I know copying the notes after the fact is virtually useless. Now I just have words in a spiral notebook instead of looseleaf paper. Whoop-dee-doo. All for self pride.
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