It is 12:30 pm on April 22, 2010. The weather is going through a transitional phase where it has yet to reveal its true season. It’s not cold enough to be winter, yet it’s hot enough to be summer. The overcast skies are grey with tinges of sunlight splashing through the clouds. I sit on a cramped fiberglass lunch table built for four, b ut somehow we defy logic and cram 7 people on the table. Kathy, my friend from the mid-west, sits across me. She wears opaque sunglasses, and I stare at my distorted reflection on the convex of the lens. She starts listing parties we can go to this weekend in her loud Chicago (Chi-town) accent. T he table adjacent to us, employees from Student Services, sneak peeks at the commotion coming from our table. All seven of us debate on what we should do for this upcoming weekend. Our chatter gets louder as more opinions are added to the discussion. Amongst our conversation there is talk of going to Pacific Beach, Downtown, and Claremont. Thirty minutes of discussion ensues, and as usual we
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The Table, Farmer, Garibaldi Lake Volcanic Field, dollar, Phase transition, Loudness