My Thoughts In Ink

My Thoughts in Ink

My pen tears across the page, diving, swirling, and stabbing. Twisting figures appear shaded with intensity. Waiting in class for the professor to start, I feel my fingers tense as I look at the blank page, longing to fill it. The teacher lectures, as I listen my pen moves at a quicker pace until it is leaping and sprinting, plunging in and out of chaos. The lecture changes topic, comes to a pause, my teacher gets excited and starts to talk quickly; my pen takes heed changing directions and speed. I draw jagged mountain peaks, fast food containers, a gangly octopus, veering arrows and geometric designs to keep my mind focused, contained, and on task.

Lectures and Power Points dull my mind. I seek an exit, not just from the stuffy classroom but from the rigid forms of learning. Doodling is a tool; it is my escape. I believe doodling has the ability to transform my learning. It is a pre-emptive measure keeping me from losing focus; it reenergizes my mind and helps me process the information thrown at me. It allows my mind to drift off into an unimagined space where my brain and the flowing information coexist in a new found rhythm. This is a place where problem solving and focus fit in alongside the flowers, woven patterns, and spheres bordering my page. Processing information becomes a rhythm and the doodles are like the notes guiding this rhythm from the chalkboard, to my paper, to my mind.

My doodles are unusual; they reflect my personal emotions and stress level. They portray my vulnerabilities and my comprehension of the material. In math and science I look down to find short, quick, stressed strokes with incessant spirals, webs and designs exuding my confusion and panic at the concepts before me. While in history and politics, steady lines, smooth images and clear-cut, intricate patterns line my page revealing my calm and collected outlook. At the end of each class period a look down at my notes and see my creations; I see more than just doodles, I see a story, I see a map. These lines, random objects and designs reveal my thinking patterns and the true workings of my mind. At home my journal transforms, with ornate ink-soaked boarders. The pages emphasize my frustration, as daggers, broken vases and pools of spilled water contend for room between my angry and disheartened words. The ability to create and to combine so many thoughts by not having to talk or write a message, but by only listening and letting your pen flow freely is a magnificent capability.

Requiring only the stroke of a pen and imagination, the doodles sprawl across the top of my paper, notebook, my hand and the back of my mind. A basket weave splays across the top of the page followed by robust balloons, crashing waves and wisps of smoke from a flickering candle. These are my abstract thoughts; not just simply a tool to aid in my learning, these doodles are my learning.

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