Journ Article

The five-dollar bill twirled and fluttered as it fell to the ground. Light gusts of wind sent it arcing up against the cloudless blue sky again and again, hindering its descent. I stopped on the steps of my dorm and watched as the torn and ragged bill soared through the air. Just as it touched the sunlit concrete in front of the steps, a shirtless and obviously frantic student came charging out from the door behind me, flying down the steps and retrieving his prize. Holding it in his hands triumphant, he grinned at me, saying, “I really need to keep things away from that window.” I gave him a laugh and he dashed back inside, leaving me standing there, book in hand, staring out across the Quad.

The grass around the library steps was littered with students, sprawled out on the grass, books in hand, trying in vain to get some reading done on this beautiful Saturday. I was in the same boat – 80 pages of The Odyssey to read and not so much time to read it in. A rather disorderly Frisbee game was going on in front of me, the red flying disc flying from one side, over the receiver’s head, and down to the ground. I moved to walk around the game, eager to get the text finished off before it got too late.

The sun was still fairly high in the sky as I slouched down against a tree and attempted to lose myself in the adventures of Odysseus. A student was playing his acoustic guitar over by the Library steps. He’d play the first few verses of a song, and then abruptly switch to another song. He was good. The reading became slow going as I heard the first few bars of “Mr. Jones.” The Frisbee was still flying back and forth across the sky, and all around me came this harmonious sound of chaotic conversation. Saturday night plans and gossip, despair over reading, lament over bad roommates – my pages were turning every so slowly.

The tree against my back began to prove uncomfortable, and that sun that had seemed so inviting now seemed to be searing my skin. The University President’s dog came wandering by, sniffing the grass absent-mindedly. My eyes still scanned over the words, and that roar of voices still filled my ears. A friend passed by my spot and questions exchanged. He had read the book in the summer. I hated him.

Shadows on the ground grew larger as time wore on. The Frisbee was grounded, the guitarist slowing from song to gentle absent-minded strumming. My back hurt, but I made no movement to get up. I read on, lost in the atmosphere, and eventually in the words on the page. As the last few sentences finally snaked their way into my brain, I looked up to the sky, clouds rolling in to mark the end of the day. I stood up, as a heavy thumping bass began to sound in the dorm across from me. The book snapped shut, and I strode off towards Saturday night.