I come from the swing state.

July 29

Today was an interesting day. It kicked off with a group assignment in Travel Writing where we were assigned a spot on campus to observe for half an hour, and then were asked to write a scene about it to share with the rest of the class. Laurel and I were assigned the library.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve been inside a college library at quarter past nine on a Tuesday morning. But, if you haven’t (which, if you’re a college student, I’m assuming you haven’t, unless it was during finals week, which doesn’t count), let me enlighten you: No one is in the library at quarter past nine on a Tuesday morning. For sure, no one is chit-chatting, whispering, or even interacting at all. Which is, of course, what we were supposed to be writing about.

So we decided to focus on what wasn’t there – sound. Yes, we wrote 230 words about how quiet the Massey library is. But, for something written within 10 minutes about a silent library, I don’t think we did too bad. John (our lecturer) seemed to enjoy it, too, so kudos to us.

For your reading pleasure:

The ticking of the small white wall clock overhead is the loudest noise to be heard in the far corner of the library. An empty table, walled-in by books, bears the signs of design students’ pencil smudges. The towering purple bookshelves are filled with colorful bindings, boasting titles such as “How to Lose Friends and Infuriate Your Boss” and “The Power of Inclusion.”

The book trolley trundles by, pushed aimlessly by a tall librarian in bright red tights. They roll past, and it is silent again. Occasionally, a bundled-up student wanders by, book in hand, without making eye contact.

Nearby, slightly hidden by the spines of books, the photocopiers drone soothingly. The clock’s ticking, however, is still loudest.

Someone coughs around the corner. Pages shuffle, and a backpack is zipped up.

Over near the photocopiers, a guy in plaid shorts and a wooly jumper with a diamond pattern on it suddenly punches holes in the photocopies he’s just made. The noise is like a gunshot in the dark. His garish, multi-colored yarn beanie, however, is slightly louder.

After the hole punching, the quiet is restored momentarily. But just as the ticking clock regains its monopoly over the library sounds, something else tears into the silence.

A great, ripping, slicing noise fills the room, like a knife tearing ominously through fabric. Somewhere, someone is using the paper cutter.

It could use some editing, sure, but I quite like it. It makes me think about Literary Journalism, and how much I enjoyed that class. I like to tell myself this would make O'C proud.

After class (my one and only of the day), Una and I headed over to the Marae (Maori meeting house) for free lunch. The lunch turned out to be a strange (well, strange to me, at least) pumpkin soup and bread. I was not a fan of the soup, but the rolls were delicious. And it was free food, so I can’t complain.

While at lunch, a group of Indonesian men sat down next to us and started asking where we were from and other such standard questions that we, as international students, are quite used to hearing by now. When I told the man next to me I was from Ohio, he got very excited and said something very quickly that I didn’t catch because of his heavy accent. I asked him to repeat it, and realized he was saying something about “swing state” and “president election.” Yes, even the Indonesians are wrapped up in U.S. politics. When the man asked who I would vote for, I said probably Obama. He clapped his hands and grinned, and his friend leaned over to give me a high-five. I wonder who they’re rooting for?

After talking politics with the Indonesians for a bit, I headed back to the library (which had livened up a bit by then) for my routine Internet browsing, reading, and general lolling about. Andrea and I talked a bit about our plans for our South Island trip (which we plan to take with Jamie in October), and so I got excited and started looking up fun things to do down there. So far we’ve got whale watching, a train ride, jet boating, a Milford Sounds cruise, and perhaps even a helicopter ride on our list.

As I headed back to the Cube later, I realized I’d told Tina that I would pick up some toilet paper, as we have somehow already gone through 40 rolls since I’ve been here. I made a detour to the Warehouse, where you can pick up 40 rolls for $11. But I clearly hadn’t really thought things through. I had my bag filled with heavy books on one shoulder, my laptop case in one hand, and now 40 rolls of toilet paper to lug back to my flat.

By the time I got inside, my shoulders and back were aching. And, of course, the elevator chose tonight to go on the fritz, and so I had to haul everything up an additional 14 flights of stairs. My calves had better start looking damn good in the near future.