Momentary Blindness

Being in the physics lounge is almost second nature to me now with how many hours I've spent here throughout the days and long nights.  A lecture for the introductory mechanics course is going right behind me in the adjacent room.  The new students will learn about the most basic forms of physics, but now they're simply learning the how to take measurements and record data.  The professor writes out notes on the chalk board with the painfully familiar clacking of chalk on board.  Students are rustling pens and paper to keep up note taking.  In the background the hvac system is slowly grinding through the day to stave of the cold that seeped up from the ninth ring of hell.  While the clock constantly ticks forwards reminding us that everything will keep moving forward no matter how much we wish it didn't.  People are shuffling throughout the hallway passing by the open door.  Trying not to slip from the snow melting on the bottom of their shoes, or the heels of the wooden soles are clacking on the ground letting everyone know they are walking here.  The printer churns out new handouts for classes while the students who will eventually receive these papers are rushing to the bathroom or just debating whether they will actually go to class today.  Students in the lecture begin to ask questions about what they have just learned, but nerves are affecting them and the questions are asked in hushed tones with humble intentions.  Carts start rolling by to supply the Chemistry labs with all sorts of chemicals necessary for labs and whatever dangerous reaction need to take place for the sake of education.  That damn clock is still ticking away.

I went blind in the Physics Lounge in DANA on Friday, February 1.