Cornell Note Taking Notebooks Novels & Stories

This office that has always felt safe now felt like a crime scene. My fingers drifted across the bookshelf, across the neat rows of accounting textbooks. I stopped when I noticed there was no dust on one part of the shelf. Something roughly the size of a notebook has been sitting there. Dad kept dozens of notebooks because he always wrote down everything. Meeting notes, ideas, random thoughts. He always trusted paper more than computers. Then why is one missing? Someone must have removed that notebook. The question is, who?

Shelves lined with notebooks in every size, pens in neat rows, and blank journals stacked by the window. I moved to the notebooks and picked one up. "Too big," Duke said. I put it back. Found a smaller one—plain cover, nothing fancy, easy to carry in a pocket or a bag. I flipped it open. Blank pages, lined, the kind that didn't demand anything from you until you were ready. "That one," Duke said.

July 15, 1990 Coralis and Nadilla were excited. They were about to go shopping for their school supplies. Their list wasn’t long, but there were so many books on it, that they hoped that none of them were heavy: they had no one to help carry them to school or across the mall.

What the fuck! I was frustrated even more when I head back to NYC. I had tones of mails and parcels that I was no doubt from Brandon Cornwall. I tore it open one of the letters and it was a note from him. I think my fury was seething when I read it. Dear Miss Brown, I have to send my condolences when I discovered that you were injured and cannot join the excavation. It was not common for a female to injure insight. However, I have returned your properties to you as well as your journals and notes about the discovery of the minerals.

It must have. Growling under her breath, she scanned the floor around her seat for it. The writing device was nowhere to be seen. How was she supposed to take notes if she didn’t have a pencil? She looked in the spiral of her notebook, but it wasn’t tucked in there, and it wasn’t inside of her folder either.

I smile at her words and turn back to my bag, taking out a pencil and a notebook. We spend the next hour reviewing my work. She berates me a few times for having a messy notebook, which I have to say is really hot. “No wonder you’re not doing well in class. Look at this mess.” She says, holding out the notebook with its scribbles and torn sheets. Huffing with frustration, she lays the notebook back down on the table and arches a brow. “We need to work out a way to organize these and maybe set up a better system for note-taking. since I've taken a few of these classes, I’m sure I still have old notes for this class. I’ll see if I can find them.”

Paul explained, "This is something I borrowed from Dr. Knowles over at the Queenstone College Physics Faculty. It's called a 'Calendar Notebook.'" Seeing Lionel's confused look, Paul elaborated further, "The Calendar Notebook is a tradition at Queenstone College's Physics Faculty. Each professor asks their top students to compile notes on current cutting-edge research topics "These notes are typically accompanied by the student's analysis of the most relevant subjects and predictions for future research trends worldwide. Each notebook is passed down to a new student every four years when the previous one graduates. "Dr. Knowles has compiled these notebooks from each generation of his student

We also bought some snacks to munch on while studying. Louella's notes were easy to understand, and there were even comments on the side to make it easier to understand. Her handwriting was also neat, and she used different colors depending on how important the details were. "Your notes are amazing, LJ," I said. "So detailed. It's even better than our teacher's planner, huh?" I also looked at her previous notes, and there were no mistakes. It was very clean. "That's just how I am, even when we were in elementary school. If she missed something, she would ask our teacher to repeat it," Lorreine said, chewing on her snacks.

The cover was a plain, academic shade of navy—serious and subdued, the kind of thing Marken, with his fastidious nature, would’ve chosen for recording research or classified observations. But something didn’t sit right. Alexander’s brows furrowed. A flicker of suspicion darted across his eyes as he pulled out his phone and called Colton. “The missing notebook… Was it more feminine-looking? Something like a softer color?” Alexander asked, tapping the edge of the notebook against his palm. “Yeah. Light blue with floral trim, if I remember right. Why? Did you find it?” Colton responded. “No,” Alexander replied curtly and ended the call without another word.

My kind of woman. I saw her notebooks on her table and since she’s taking so long downstairs, I decided to check them. I opened each notebook and saw a lot of notes written neatly and in detail. She's a very eager in her studies and there were scribbles and doodles that she made in the corners of the page in her notebook. I bet she was bored during her class when she did this because I used to do the same thing when I was younger. One caught my attention, she doodled my name and a quote under it saying,