Bungalow 411

I sit in here daily. Papers are written, and later enhanced. E-mails are recieved. To-do lists are checked off. An innumerable amount of Nature Valley granola bars are consumed. The sound of free paper traveling through the printer in the far right corner of the room echoes in one ear, and out the other. Sixteen Hewlett Packard L1908wm computer monitors line the perimeter of the small room--all of which are accompanied by blue fabricated office chairs. From what I've heard, they spin quite fast.
Silence can either be excruciating, or excruciatingly godly. When work is in need of being accomplished, catching a wave of silence in here can be as wonderful as that one dream that we all have, every so often. You know which dream I'm talking about. It's the one where you wake up in the morning, only to discover that you've won the Mega Millions Lottery, and are in the thrilling midst of relishing in all that you'd do with your winnings.

But there's always one individual who talks far too loud, and then eventually realizes that they are being incredibly disruptive of other students' attempts to be studious. They usually strut through the doorway on a phone call at full volume. Once their peripheral vision kicks in, and they allow their eyes to wander about the room, it is easy to notice their immediate awareness and modification of their voice's intensity.
Then you have the few yakking teammates who banter in with their band of cronies. On occasion, I can be found guilty of doing this. But only on occasion. I find that respect is a valuable peculiarity that is relatively hard to come by these days, and I do my best to live up to my own expectations of others. In order to concentrate in here, one must become immune to not only the variable changes in noise-levels, but to the variable changes in temperature. I can hardly get out of here without developing a severe case of the 'goosebumps.' And somehow, I have yet to develop the ability to remember a sweatshirt.
Still numb from the bungalow's arctic temperature, I continue my day... still unsure to why we call it 'the bungalow.'