wish i could get something done.

Here in this big white empty room. Blue love seats and waiting room chairs for the diligently working counselors that have no students to assist. It's here i sit and think about how comfortable this actually is. For the past five years, I've been coming in and out of these doors to this student center, with an impeding sense of disdain. I don't appreciate the people who will arrogantly fill this hall during lunch hours, and squawk about beer and intangible drama. I don't like their smell, and I don't condone their narrow-minded attitudes. "Is it really all that necessary to hoot and hollar over Becky's new haircut, or how your overweight brother holds a very discriminant view on gays and lesbians," I often think. But I try to escape such a thought process, it too is impeding on my self-progression.

I've been coming here for half a decade now, five years of the same wooden floor, raised up from the same dirty navy blue carpet, tred on by thousands a foot. And in all those five years, there have been very few things I have learned. Beyond staying away from the area during lunch, I know now that the weather inside these walls is unpredictable. Wear long pants, and tee-shirts in layers. I've noted which outlets are best situated along the walls for plugging in my laptop and getting comfortable - my fleeting attempts at feng shui. Most recently though, I've taken a liking to how, when there is no one here in this hall but myself, how tall these white walls seem, and how the further my eyes climb those walls, the darker they get with years of untouched dust and grime.

This room is a home to my heart is some ways. It reminds me off my bedroom in high school, when I was too fickle to find a decorative motif I really liked. There is tape clinging to the grey white columns. Remnants of the past posters that hung advertising special events or urging student council electorates to pick a new president of the student body. There are fake trees, lining a fireplace that hide our nation's stars and stripes, and our states blue and yellow framers. I find it horribly symbolic. And above that fireplace hangs some crafted metallurgy project of a road runner in mid stride. It's tacky, but I appreciate that, even if this cold copper bird isn't necessarily my school's mascot, it is a symbol that brings the students here together - but in what ways I still don't know.

When I'm in this room here, looking down the tinted window corridors, I can look out the window at the trees, and recall season by season the minute differences in the pines outside. They go from a Christmas tree green and golden sheen in the summer and autumn, to some deep and recluse green in the winter. Spring always has the most noticeable pines, as the pollen lining the needles gives it a blue hue, until some bird crash lands on a branch and a puff of yellow powder erupts off the tree. Plant ejaculate and procreation.