Lunch

For a creative writing class I had to sit in a public place and write observations for an hour before turning it into, as my prof so annoyingly left it, "something." 

Here is "something." 

An Exercise in Discomfort

or

An Introvert in Public

I feel like a spy.

Agent Ginger 21.

On recon with special orders from the Commander to collect as much data as possible for a report due Wednesday.

"How to Make Writing Assignments a Little More Exciting. Volume A."

Most of my observations are auditory (I can't look around and write at the same time, who do you think I am?). The girl at the next table doesn't want to work with so-and-so on a project "for lots of reasons." The nurse across from her is whining because she doesn't have the Powerpoints she needs (seriously, you've been on campus for a week - what kind of Powerpoints do you need already?). The nasally voice by the door "doesn't, like, know how to handle life sometimes, but is glad [her friend] understands."

The female voice dominate the room. Probably because they're the most high-pitched.

(Piercing.)

Except for that baseball player over there rumbling underneath all of it with his grating monotone.

Oh. Not a baseball player. I actually know him - he was in my small group (an introvert's hell) freshman year.

A shining testament to those who graduate looking exactly like their freshman ID.

How much you want to bet that girl's on the phone with a guy, asking him to come study with her? She's got all the tell-tale signs: the giggle, the wispy voice, the-

Oh. Not a guy. Maybe she just sounds naturally flirty all the time.

I'm really bad at those types of observations. Once I tried to guess who was coming down the hallway without looking, just by listening to the way their shoes sounded on the floor. I failed miserably.

Maybe I wasn't meant to be a spy. Maybe I was cut out to be...something that didn't rely so heavily on my not-power of observation.

(Your inner monologue is too loud to be a spy anyway - spies are supposed to be objective.)

Student Bethanie Denise.

At the Hive.

With orders from the prof to write about what I observe in one place for an hour.

"How to Make Homework Sound Less Like an Adventure and More Like Work Again. Volume A."

I feel so awkward. Not because my chair is rickety or my back is facing a window (I hate that), but the purposeful crawling into other conversations, when I'm introverted and hermit-ish by nature. (Not to mention STARVING.) I'm not the only person sitting alone - the girl across from me is so into her computer screen that a moose wouldn't budge her - but I'm the only one who sat here to deliberately creep on people.

Even if that weren't the point, I would feel stupid. I won't look up from my notebook because I'm positive someone is watching me in harsh judgment. I would put my headphones in and listen to some type of music, but that would mean not being able to listen to what everybody else is saying. Plus I always get self-conscious about my breathing - I start concentrating on it to make sure I"m not breathing too loud or to a beat, and I get so wrapped up in it that I don't focus on my work.

And I get light-headed. Which isn't really helpful to anyone.

Maybe I'm too intolerant to be a good writer. It requires a lot of "being out" around people, and I avoid that whenever I can help it. Stop crunching your ice, sit still in your chair, please blow your nose, enough of the clicking, quit whining to him- Oh my HEAVENS, will you CEASE the ice-crunching. And you've been packing your stuff for ten minutes - what could you have possibly unloaded from that little bag?

To tell the truth, I almost went back to my room when my prof assigned us this exercise. But I had packages to get from the post office. And I wanted coffee. So I parked here instead.

I'm still starving. I didn't get lunch today - probably the same situation with the girl who's changing her schedule because she "can't live like this anymore" - but thank God for my RA and her six-pound bag of gummie bears that she chose to mail to me.

Hello, lunch.

In communications we talked about "noise" - anything that prevents people from communicating - that can come from the sender or receiver of the message, the environment, whatever.

My empty stomach is definitely creating receiver-based noise - how can I observe when I'm hungry?

Four pages written. That's more than enough observation for one awkward sitting.

I'm going to find a sandwich.