Two blue G-TEC pens. One is out of ink. The other is a replacement for the first one without the ink. 0.4, because some writing requires writing small. Why blue? It is said to stimulate the memory. Does it work? It might just be a placebo. But then again, if a placebo works, does it even matter how it works?
One red G-TEC pen. Red pops out on a page. Great for reviewing. It screams, “Remember this!”
One Mongol pencil. Given by my sister for when I needed it for a test. My sisters are my first recourse for supplies. Two out of three times, they have it. That’s almost National Bookstore level.
I use one of those white, portable Lifetime tables. There’s an actual built-in wooden table on the other end of the room, but the Wifi isn’t as strong on that end. On this end, I’m right next to the door. When I’m needed, I hear a knock and I answer right at the door. Looks like a reception table to an office. Feels like it, too. “How may I help you?”
Books. I jump from one book to the other and back, with hardly any remorse (at least not anymore), and without feeling the need to finish any one. I juggle them as needed, some over many years. Among the at least fifteen being juggled at the moment, these are kept within arm’s reach, on the table: Tao Te Ching, Meditations, Letters from a Stoic, The Schools We Need, and electronically, Walter Isaacson’s Leonardo Da Vinci and Craig Ferguson’s most recent memoir Riding the Elephant.
Green Post-its. Needed them that one time.
One green Stabilo highlighter. A year ago, my former colleague Billie gave me this decked out shoebox of random but well-thought-out gifts for Christmas. She was my Secret Santa. In it were pens, personalized stickers, face masks (the kind that moisturizes, not the one for COVID), a tumbler, alcohol (also not for COVID), keychains, a notebook, little things you didn’t think you needed until you did. The highlighter was one of them. And when you have Seneca on your table, you need that highlighter.
Post-it flags. Perfect for books I don’t own myself, which accounts for virtually every other book in this house.
I like that it adjusts to a tall enough height – posture is in between perfect and hunchback, just enough to relate to back problem memes online. It’s been my corner of the world for the past few months. I go to school on it. I study on it. I snack on it. I meditate on it. I read on it. I write on it. I binge-watch on it. I get bitten by mosquitos on it. If I’m not asleep or with family or friends, I’m on it.
A Huawei Bluetooth speaker. No, it doesn’t say “the Bluetooth device is ready to pair” in that signature Chinese accent. My dad gave them to me one night. Probably because he hears me playing music straight from my phone or laptop speakers. He’s always had this never-ending yearning for the “best.” Best quality, be the best, do your best. In this case, “best” was louder and crisper sound, apparently.
Earpods. Can airpods save your phone from falling off the table? I don’t think so. Based solely on this, I’m not so sure they’re worth the price. I trust my wires.
An Asus powerbank. Never fully-charged. Hardly ever used. Should be purged from the table soon.
A laptop. The first item to make its mark on the table. Great for falling asleep while Netflix asks if you’re still up and watching.
A phone stand. This one is a solid purchase from Shopee. I attend most of my classes using my phone. Before it landed on my table, I would hold my phone on one hand and take notes on the other. In hindsight, I could’ve used a pile of books to keep my phone upright.
There was no real plan for what went on it. But it is a small table, so not much can. Limits have a way of forcing time itself to sift through the unnecessary, leaving only the essential. Semi-natural selection on a 3×2-foot surface.
A cup of pineapple tea. Every night, my mom walks over to my room with a cup of pineapple tea. She places it on one of my mug rugs while I study. It’s literally pineapple slices in hot water. She says it has some nutrients that are great for your body. I usually question these things but some things, you just have to take, no questions asked. Plus, it’s quite nice.
A pitcher of water. No cup. I pour straight into my mouth. No reason not to when I’m the only one drinking from this pitcher.
A snack. Usually chips from the other room. Sometimes Fita. Sometimes Skyflakes. Sometimes Pretz. On the best days, some brand of Korean corn chips that I would call “ang namit to bala nga corn nga green ang box” (“you know, those delicious corn chips in the green box”) because we couldn’t read the label. Or Red Ribbon banana bread. Also sometimes, Lily’s peanut butter for the Skyflakes.
If a busy table means a busy mind, then mine could only be described as, never in one place, barely keeping itself upright, contents worth listening to, but not always.
One Corona notebook. For class. Having all of them on the table at once can feel overwhelming. So only one is allowed on this table at one time. The rest are on the other end of the room, waiting to be picked up for another time.
One Green Apple notebook. For catching thoughts.