Five-Hundred Word Challenge 537: Banal Stuff

The low hum of the sound that should be one that is buzzing is getting me in the situation that I am currently in. Well, it’s not, but that is beside the point at the given moment.

There is a low hum. It reaches across the room and among the students, but their talking is making it difficult to hear. That is not necessarily a bad thing. I its just a thing of which I am currently noticing.

All this sound from different sources, and yet there is very little of it. Not that that is a bad thing either. Just another thing to notice.

I can notice that the carpet is patterned in a familiar pattern, but its colour is different, which kind of makes it feel like something I’ve never seen before. Of course this disregards the fact that I’ve been in this room a few times, but I think it’s interesting that it is the colour of the carpet makes it seem like something that is not familiar, pattern-wise.

I think. I’ve noticed, so I don’t know as to what I’m going on about, I think.

This room has rows of seats that fold and unfold, depending on their need. The low hum of the sound continues through the room and around us. It is pleasing, but it is prominent. Perhaps it is a sound that was designed to be pleasing. I don’t think that that is the case, but I do know that the sound is there and it is likely the byproduct of machinery that is operating.

So with all of that being said, there is a room in which I am in. The walls are prominent, the carpet is prominent and I see a desk in a corner for where the lecturer will lecture when they arrive.

I need to go to the bathroom. That is something I should do sooner rather than later, I think.

Sitting here, waiting. Waiting for the time to pass. Noticing the rows of the chairs and how they seem to hover above the ground. They don’t, but the bits that anchor them to the ground are few and far between.

I guess that they’ve been engineered to support as much weight whilst using as little material as possible.

I guess that goes without saying.

I think that soon I should twiddle my thumbs, but if I do that I’m sure that I will get into a rhythm that cannot always be sustained and the, I’m boned, as it were.

Then again, part of my composition involves bones in the body that I call my own and my composition and makeup allows me to appear as a person. That is the shape in which I am forced, but the low hum has no shape, unless we define it as having a certain shape that is the idea of one and not necessarily a physical presence.

And the carpet’s pattern is kind of distracting, now that I think about it.

The time it took to write five-hundred words: 05:59:48

More waffling!

Written at UNSW.

 

About Stupidity Hole

I'm some guy that does stuff. Hoping to one day fill the internet with enough insane ramblings to impress a cannibal rat ship. I do more than I probably should. I have a page called MS Paint Masterpieces that you may be interested in checking out. I also co-run Culture Eater, an online zine for covering the arts among other things. We're on Patreon!
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