Thinking and Taking Notes

I dislike the thought of intrusive thoughts in my head. They always puzzle me about why should my mind tell me what I should think about. I know, certainly strange for a girl to think about that, but what was even stranger, I kept thinking about my weekend and what was about to happen. Not that I wanted anything to happen, but the thought of being alone with a man petrified me to the fact I kept thinking about it. I bet it had something to do with my mother and what she said. A good match, she said, and after that, my mind was a whirlpool of 'what ifs.' Silly of me, I know, but the blasted mind works in ways I sometimes wonder, why didn't I become a doctor to study the brain?

Of course, my father would freak out if he knew I had thoughts about other careers, in both ways, actually. He would be extremely sad and happy. I can't say which one is pulling at my noggin right now. They both sat equally in my mind.

I realized I was sitting too long and not moving, so it was about time to make a compromise. I have Arts right now, and the subject haunts me to go back to the class, even only to sit.

Come on, you can do this, I coaxed myself. I made my way up the stairs just as I had not so long ago, yet the fear was there. There were other students in the hallways. Some were putting away books and skipping classes, while some talked with other students. I start my escape and for as long as I know myself when something was about to go bad; I make a break for it.

Sighing and shaking my head, I turned on my heels to make a big dash when a cleared throat and a stern, deep voice stopped me in my tracks. Standing in the middle of the hallway was my art teacher. It was Mr. Lou. He has a scowl on his face, and his looks tell me not to move an inch. I gave a stiff smiled, and he coldly told me to follow him to his office.

"Young lady, you have been skipping out of my classes. Care to explain yourself?" He asked in a rather calm tone. His expression and his sound did not match.

"No, I am not ready to come back yet. My hand is still healing. I am trying." I wanted to explain more, but his look told me to stop talking. My fingers were trembling, and my knees were buckling even though I was sitting across from him.

"You are only in the theory classes. Don't tell me you have given up working on your unfinished projects. You should try harder." He coaxed me, with his two fingers gently touching his chin, a classic teacher lecturing move.

"I know. Things have not been getting easier for me going back into that classroom." I said, without looking at him. Telling him what happened to me might just make me feel like an idiot afterward.

"Lucy, you don't need to be in the classroom to find inspiration. Look around you. I am sure there are other influences." He said, trying to find solutions as much as he can. I could see it. I wasn't the only best student in his class, but a good one.

"Professor, I am trying. I was hoping to join the class real soon." I said, hoping my voice sounded confident as I wanted it to sound. My feet were shaking less, and my breathing was normal, too.

"You don't understand it yet, do you? What bothers you, Lucy? What do you feel is holding you back?" He was now stretching his leg under him, sitting straight and looking squarely at me.

It took a surprise when he said this. I didn't think I was holding myself back, but now that he mentioned it, I really did not want to believe it. Was I holding myself back?

"Lucy, inspiration does not come from people or from nature, or basically life. It came from different beings. Open your mind to absorb all around you and find your hands with your eyes, close, and work your fingers for at least an hour." His voice held expertise, and a known pain in it, which made me look at him even more. He turned sideways now.

"How do you know it will work? What if it just hurts me more?" It intrigued me to know if it can cause long-lasting damage. It would be unfortunate.

"You won't know unless you try. It happens to the best of us, but you see everyone. If you feel you cannot handle this, then you need to move on. Why would you burden yourself with something you do anymore?"

"You said beings. What do you mean?"

"I don't think I heard you correctly," he said with furrowed eyebrows. His eyes even widened, as though he wasn't sure.

"You said inspiration can come from beings. What are you talking about?"

"I meant in the instance of someone or something. You need to set your mind to do what you want. You have been in slumber for quite some time." His words now did not hold the intensity they had only a moment ago. He looked dazed.

"I know, professor. I was hoping to catch up on the theory classes. I am not ready to come to the room just yet." I pleaded with twisted hands that were now sweaty with nervousness.

"Well, these are my notes that you missed. You can copy them and bring them back. Knowing very well how talented you are, I hope the best for you, Lucy." He looked at me once and shook his head as though he was grieved by what was happening to me. He operated as though he understood me more than he led on.

"Thank you," I gifted him, and I was getting up to make my way out.

I have been in absorbing mode, thinking he might allow me some slack, but I learned something from him. I think it is about time that I gathered myself. I would start with the notes first. As much as this would be a pain to complete before the weekends, it might give my mind something to think about and also breeze my mind from too many depressing thoughts.

I noticed lunch came about faster, and the conversation around the table soon died because of my lack of attention. I kept zoning out, thinking about how much work needed to be done. Yet we must comply with one hour, and we must eat something for lunch, school orders, so we could have our basic nutrients, so we could study longer and better.

"Hey Lucy, when will your mom bake again?" Juno said as he plopped down in the seat across from me.

"I am not sure. Would you like me to ask?" I knew he was soft-hearted when he got the sweetness in his mouth. Otherwise, he is bitter and a little teaser, too.

"Yes, that sounds great. I know she only baked yesterday, but her work is amazing. It would be nice to have some more." He smiled, showing his teeth, and moving closer to Mika, who has not said a word yet.

"I can always help her if it coaxes her to make more treats for you. Sorry, I have been zoning out. I just got my notes for my art class, and it is a lot," I explained and turned to Mika. She looked up now, and she greeted me with a smile.

"You want to know a trick? I would set a cold drink down on a coaster, and every time I need a break, I would take a sip, take two deep breaths, and rub my neck. It works since you keep relaxing your body." Mika explained what she did, and it did not seem so bad.

"You have that zoning look on your face again. She told me the same, and it worked well for me. Why don't you try it?" Juno said, and I was surprised. They were in sync once more.

"You know what? Maybe I will. Now that you two are talking like you used to, have you guys made up?" When I leaned closer to them over the table, they pulled back on the seat, looking pale in the face.

I suddenly giggled when I heard two loud groans coming from across the table. Mika rolled her eyes and Juno hid his face in his hand. I guess they made up!