University Writings

There is a sticky spot on the floor in front of my door. I have no idea how it got there nor do I care. It probably will be gone as soon as Aramark gets around to cleaning it in the morning.

The STU Help Desk, everybody comes by looking for something or another. Let it be to get their posters stamped, buy bus passes or stamps, looking for some sort of literature, or trying to find something. Working at the Help Desk is the best of times and the worst of times. It can be extremely rewarding to be helping someone, or it can be very boring when nobody needs help. Some of the inside secrets of the Help Desk are that if we do not know where something is, we send them either to the Registrar’s office or Student Affairs. In addition, when people leave posters to be posted by us, they may or may not get up in time for an event.

It was quite quiet. There was a mid-afternoon calm to the scene as I looked up there a few odd fluffy white clouds among the blue horizon over the roof of a dark George Martin Hall. At half past three, the sun is just starting to make its decline lose its intensity. As I try to look up to see more detail from the silhouette of where George Martin Hall should be, my eyes became overwhelmed by the sun. Then I felt a quick frigid wind blowing past my uncovered arms a gentle reminder of the fact that autumn is but nine days away. Although the air was cool there was sweetness to the air that became overwhelmingly refreshing.