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I could probably make some psychologists scratch their heads in confusion. I have this ritual that I go through for college, right before a new semester starts. No, that's not the weird part. Other people probably do a milder "normal" version of my little ritual. It's just the process of getting ready for classes, especially the first day back. You know. Buying paper, notebooks, pencils (or pencil leads and erasers for the refillable pencils), and getting supplies ready in general.
I just go a little further and write the catalog number and class name on the first page of each section in my looseleaf notebook. Also, I write the date in the upper right hand corner of each "first page" for each class. Some classes start Monday, August 15, 2005 and some start Tuesday, August 16, 2005. Also, I skip a line under the portion where I wrote the class name and catalong number and on the left hand side of the paper, I write the actual time that class is supposed to start. That is still not the weird part.
The weird part happened while I was performing my little ritual tonight (this morning, really). I actually ran out of paper in between semesters trying to organize these bills I have received from surgery. Every doctor who walked into the room while I was having surgery charged me for their "services". I needed notebook paper and I am on a tight budget. I hate Wal-Mart. No, I am not the least bit proud that my hometown just opened the biggest Wal-Mart in the world. Actually, I'm saddened that they are now our largest source of employment in the county. It's a sad day when a virtual slave driving sweat shop store surpasses even local and state government as a major source of jobs. That's beside the point, but important. Hating Wal-Mart lead me to just buy some paper at twice the price at a local grocery store.
I don't even know who makes this paper or even the name brand. The only identifying marks or closest thing to a logo that it has is a clip art shape of a black apple with a chunk bitten out of it. In the space where the chunk is missing sits a purple dot about the diameter of a BB. Other than that, I haven't a clue.
I finished getting the paper in the notebook, estimating how many notes I would write in each class and put the closest number of sheets of paper I thought I would need into each section. When I finished putting my little "holes", stickers to reinforce the holes in looseleaf notebook paper, on the first and last page of every section, I broke out my pencil and started to write the catalog numbers, names, etc. of each class.
Here's the beginning of the weird part. Just as I put my hand on the page and started to write, I was stopped in my tracks. I noticed the feel of this paper was so silky. OMG, I couldn't believe I was reacting to freaking notebook paper as if I was getting a massage or something. It freaked me out, but the silky feeling didn't stop at just touching the paper with me hand. When I started writing, I was taken aback by how easy it was to write neatly and with no friction, whatsoever, to slow me down. And when I had to erase one of my millions of mistakes I've made in this lifetime, I didn't have to press down hard or aim that precisely to erase without leaving "ghost" marks.
OMG, I sound like a bad commercial or ad. Noooooooo! Well, one good thing about it is the fact that I don't know the name brand of this paper. No one has to hear about that, thankfully.
Have I lost my mind (well, more than my normal state of neurosis)? What is happening to me? Could it just be that I am excited because I get to take an English writing class this semester? What's up with having a pleasurable, although not sexual, physical and near spiritual experience over touching paper? What's this perversion of falling in love with notebook paper I'll probably never find in any store again? I'm losing the rest of my mind. That's gotta be it. I'm having fund doing it though. That's the brite side. Right?
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