>The Halls are Springey Too

>I have decided that after econ, I purposely and repeatedly come and sit in this same hallway while waiting for sociology to start for the sole purpose of experiencing the other people that share the space with me. The janitor traipses through at the same time every day with his headphones cranked so loudly all around can hear exactly what he is listening to: usually some early-90's rock or pink floyd. Today he was singing "Another Brick in the Wall" as if he were in his shower.

There is a couple across from me who keep looking at me and laughing, though I don't think they are laughing at me. Wrapped in each other's embrace and talking softly to each other about nothing at all, this laughter is spawned from the sheer joy of being in each other's company with nothing to do for at least 10 minutes except carry the jubilant attitude that the weather exhudes from the outside in.

The attractive blonde Southern Belle in the row of seats next to me sits by herself with a poise that declares that she doesn't mind sitting by herself, and yes I know every eye is on me. She glances at her fingernails every so often, perhaps out of habit, an unconscious action that gives her eyes something to focus on while her brain is thinking of classes or summertime or her boyfriend that she'll get to see after he gets off of work tonight. She smiles at random people walking down the hall.

I don't know the purpose of having these red fabric chairs against the faint, lavender walls is, but it makes the space outside of the middle college office seem lighthearted, almost inviting. Perhaps this is the feel they were looking for. There is enough space between seats to make sitting next to strangers unimposing and comfortable for both parties, but is close enough to make conversation with somebody that is either a recent acquaintence or a close friend.

Summertime is in the air, and even the faces of these wanna-be rocker kids reflect it, as they approach the doorway to the glorious outside. My sociology teacher just passed me, and was followed by a parade of uncharacteristcally attractive community college girls that provided a momentary escape from the screen on which my eyes have been fixed for the past 5 minutes or so. Spirits are up, I'd say, and everyone has somewhere to go. Maybe this will be the summer that Chattanoogans discover the true joy in sitting in almost ugly red chairs against lavender walls in even the most humble of places.

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.