Blogs:
Blog Entry #1:
Observation of D2:
Scouring for a place to sit and remove the mounds and mounds of layers that shielded my delicate skin from the chilly unbearable Monday evening air and as snowflakes melt in my hair, warmth rises slowly from the tips of my toes, I jostle through the crowd of equally starving students. An aroma of every food imaginable fills my nostrils from the delicious sweet potato fries to the perfectly toasted turkey sandwich to mouth watering deserts and above me is the sweet tinkling of music from a variety of artists including that of Switchfoot and a little ‘N sync which creates a vibrant, comfortable atmosphere. Placing jackets, scarves, mittens, hats, and finally a book bag on the very last available booth in the far right corner as a sliver of that rare afternoon sunshine finds it way through the pale glass of D2. A large booth decorated in a brownish-red triangle shaped pattern comfortably fits all of my belongings and the multiple plates of food. Finally, with fork in hand, my gaze wanders around the room. Three tables are within my view, two large circular and one smaller square tables. The largest of the three, a circular table is pushed into the very corner where the two panes of glass meet together. Extra chairs are pulled around to accommodate the extra girls who noisily chat and laugh amongst themselves about memories of home and family. Some wear dresses while some seem to find comfort in a warm, oversized Virginia Tech sweatshirt, others have neatly straightened hair while others have tousled waves carelessly pulled back into a ponytail. In between talking, the girls eat a variety of food from pasta to Mexican to delicious deserts. They continue to talk amicably beyond my twenty minute observation. My eyes move to the right of the girls, where another round table is positioned though with slightly less people: three boys and a girl. They are much quieter and seem to be at the end of their meal. Also clad in mostly Virginia Tech gear, the boys have slouched down in their chairs looking rather full while the girl nibbles on a chocolate chip cookie. After around five minutes, the group, sighing, pulls on jackets and mittens stacking plates on top of each other, they head into the blustery, windy night’s air. Directly to my right, a boy with scruffy brown hair rubs at his five o’clock shadow. Deep in thought and working deliberately on his laptop in between eating a large taco, the boy gently moves back in forth to the time of the music playing in his headphones. Soon after his fourth course, he also packs of his belongings and with his departure, my observation ends as well.
Scouring for a place to sit and remove the mounds and mounds of layers that shielded my delicate skin from the chilly unbearable Monday evening air and as snowflakes melt in my hair, warmth rises slowly from the tips of my toes, I jostle through the crowd of equally starving students. An aroma of every food imaginable fills my nostrils from the delicious sweet potato fries to the perfectly toasted turkey sandwich to mouth watering deserts and above me is the sweet tinkling of music from a variety of artists including that of Switchfoot and a little ‘N sync which creates a vibrant, comfortable atmosphere. Placing jackets, scarves, mittens, hats, and finally a book bag on the very last available booth in the far right corner as a sliver of that rare afternoon sunshine finds it way through the pale glass of D2. A large booth decorated in a brownish-red triangle shaped pattern comfortably fits all of my belongings and the multiple plates of food. Finally, with fork in hand, my gaze wanders around the room. Three tables are within my view, two large circular and one smaller square tables. The largest of the three, a circular table is pushed into the very corner where the two panes of glass meet together. Extra chairs are pulled around to accommodate the extra girls who noisily chat and laugh amongst themselves about memories of home and family. Some wear dresses while some seem to find comfort in a warm, oversized Virginia Tech sweatshirt, others have neatly straightened hair while others have tousled waves carelessly pulled back into a ponytail. In between talking, the girls eat a variety of food from pasta to Mexican to delicious deserts. They continue to talk amicably beyond my twenty minute observation. My eyes move to the right of the girls, where another round table is positioned though with slightly less people: three boys and a girl. They are much quieter and seem to be at the end of their meal. Also clad in mostly Virginia Tech gear, the boys have slouched down in their chairs looking rather full while the girl nibbles on a chocolate chip cookie. After around five minutes, the group, sighing, pulls on jackets and mittens stacking plates on top of each other, they head into the blustery, windy night’s air. Directly to my right, a boy with scruffy brown hair rubs at his five o’clock shadow. Deep in thought and working deliberately on his laptop in between eating a large taco, the boy gently moves back in forth to the time of the music playing in his headphones. Soon after his fourth course, he also packs of his belongings and with his departure, my observation ends as well.
Blog entry #2:
Initial Observations of Bus system:
Well, one thing is definitely for sure; it will snow. The bus may be late, you may be standing outside for several minutes waiting, you will probably be hungry, cold, and tired, but without fail, it will be snowing. Welcome to one of the most dramatic, cold winters of Blacksburg, Virginia. And, as I wait for the bus and snow seems to be coming from every direction, up down, right, and left, I contemplate which is worse: standing outside in the freezing cold, blustering weather or aboard a crowded, noisy bus. Ultimately, I know the warmth of the bus and the comfort of a roof over my head out competes this disastrous weather. Even so, as I stand at the bus stop in front of Burrus Hall looking towards the sky, and as snow begins to gently cling to the top of the roof, and as trees seem to slump with weight of the never ceasing flow of snow, and as large crystal snowflakes land lightly on the tips of my outstretched mitten-covered fingertips, I begin to recognize beauty in each flake. The beauty lies within the uniqueness and distinctness of each snowflake. When the snowflakes are large enough, one can see the delicate curves and the eloquence of its design.
Well, one thing is definitely for sure; it will snow. The bus may be late, you may be standing outside for several minutes waiting, you will probably be hungry, cold, and tired, but without fail, it will be snowing. Welcome to one of the most dramatic, cold winters of Blacksburg, Virginia. And, as I wait for the bus and snow seems to be coming from every direction, up down, right, and left, I contemplate which is worse: standing outside in the freezing cold, blustering weather or aboard a crowded, noisy bus. Ultimately, I know the warmth of the bus and the comfort of a roof over my head out competes this disastrous weather. Even so, as I stand at the bus stop in front of Burrus Hall looking towards the sky, and as snow begins to gently cling to the top of the roof, and as trees seem to slump with weight of the never ceasing flow of snow, and as large crystal snowflakes land lightly on the tips of my outstretched mitten-covered fingertips, I begin to recognize beauty in each flake. The beauty lies within the uniqueness and distinctness of each snowflake. When the snowflakes are large enough, one can see the delicate curves and the eloquence of its design.
