First Entry or Thick Description Exercise

Hi, everyone! I'm starting a blog! Here's the first entry.

Thin 1
Grass, leaves. Eighteen faces, thirty-six legs. Chirping in the distance. A loud buzzing, mechanical. Whoosh. Crunching, clanging. Never quiet. A circle of stone. The grass inside our little circle is so much shorter than the grass outside it. Some plaques off to the side, and a bulletin board. Trees. A parking lot. Buses. Green, green, green, yellow, brown, orange, and pale bluegray. The leaves on the trees are moving, but only a little. The light moves more. Yellow flowers, a bee. Many bees. A high, wailing, repetitive beep. Coughs, sneezes. Leaves moving back and forth. Poles with mesh tied to them. Buildings I know away on the right, an unfamiliar wall of trees to the left. Bugs so small you can only see them in the sunlight. Paths to and from the clearing, and a single orange leaf in the middle. A very gentle cool breeze. Paper. Sunglasses on hair on heads on skin on earrings on bodies on shoes. A tickling sensation on my legs and ankles. A small flying insect makes its slow and erratic way from one blade of grass to another. Breath. Light and shadow.

Thick 1
My first thought is that it feels kind of like the battle at the Alamo—a desperate last stand. To be fair, not every college could provide such a peaceful place as this, but even here, the sounds of industry invade…or perhaps even they are a natural part of this environment. The savannah is pinned between a parking lot on one side and what sounds like a lawnmower or a leafblower but may actually be a chainsaw on the other. There is a whoosh, a rustle of the leaves, and the sunlight drips like water on the plaques around the savannah, the circular mesh and poles holding up fledgling trees, and the cool circular stone bench we sit on. A bee tickles my bare ankle and I brush it off without thinking, then feel bad and look around to see if I can find it again. I’ve probably confused it with my fruity body wash. Even I feel like an invasion of the space here, the peculiar sensation of both being a part of and apart from nature. But there are birds chirping and lovely yellow flowers and bees and eighteen people sitting in a circle trying to scribble some sense from it all, and that gives me hope.

Thin 2
Inside. Cream walls with different texture. Five computers, but one doesn’t turn on. Six students. Chatter and laughter from two students at a table. Fire extinguisher by the doorway. Eight wooden tables. Three light switches. Sixteen outlets and a cable jack. Clicking and rapid sounds like beetles’ wings as students stare at computers with frowns and furrowed brows. The rushing sound of pencil lead on paper and textbook pages turning. Fluorescent lights and bad posture. Dictionaries, Hacker’s Guides, and canisters holding pens and pencils. Wires. Backpacks, folders, calculators, jackets, books strewn about the room. Eight different entrances, three of them open, two of them locked. All the doors try to open when one does. Gray chairs that roll around, yellow wooden chairs, heavy purple plush chairs, a lurid green couch, a red half-wooden-half-plush chair, a teal-patterned plush chair. An empty bulletin board with many pushpins. Two gray trash cans. Stacks of blank serrated computer paper. Bluegray industrial carpet. Quiet conversations. A clock that ticks audibly, two minutes fast. Screeching sounds from the hallway. Doors open and close with hollow banging. Rustling of papers and rolling of plastic chair wheels on the carpet.

Thick 2
At the beginning of the semester, the Writing Center is always slow, so the tutors use that time to knock out homework. Five tutors are on duty, three in training, and one student client is working with a tutor in what must be at least a mildly distracting environment, exacerbated by a nearly constant stream of noise from the hallway of professors in their offices holding loud conversations and doors constantly opening and closing. There are eight different doorways to the room, and when one opens, the change in air pressure makes all of the doors rattle ominously in their frames. There are probably enough chairs to house a small army: gray chairs that roll around, yellow wooden chairs, heavy purple plush chairs, a lurid green couch, a red half-wooden-half-plush chair, a teal-patterned plush chair…yet during meetings, there never seem to be enough. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead ever so imperceptibly, and everyone is hunched in the chairs as if the lights themselves sap energy. The tantalizing smell of microwaved lasagna begins to permeate the room from the hallway, and on cue, all the tutors glance sideways at the clock on the wall. Everyone is ravenous, and there is the occasional sound of a stomach in peril. The math students hold their foreheads in their hands and slump over textbooks while producing the rushing sound of pencil lead on paper. The English students stare at computers with frowns and furrowed brows, the keyboards making rapid clicking sounds like beetles’ wings beating very quickly. The clock on the wall gaily tick-tocks its way towards six, two excruciating minutes fast.