There are two situations in which I think best, and both situations are best for very different types of thinking. The first place I think best is in Tome. As a math major, Tome is home. With all the whiteboards and computers with different math programs on them, it really is the best place to do homework or study for an exam. Even if I have non-math homework, I typically do my work in Tome. I also usually work with my friend, Cody. When we do work together, we feed off of each other’s energy and typically are able to think better.
Working on math homework in Tome
The second place I think best is at home with the Dog House dogs. As the Dog Coordinator of Dog House, I have a lot of responsibilities and work to do. Generally when I am going over interaction forms or coming up with new schedules, working at home with the dogs right next to me inspires me to stay motivated. Also being with the dogs obviously makes me think about them, so it’s easier to stay focused on them and their needs.
SSD Rico (left) and SSD Olive (right), the two current Dog House dogs
Still, when I’m thinking about Mariposa, it is easiest to be with her, and I find that when I am with her, I notice so many things about nature and the environment I inhabit that I don’t normally realize. As I sat with Mari the other day, I wrote down some observations about our environment and about Mari:
As I sit on the rock next to Mari’s skinny trunk, I look up and admire the blue sky and the white clouds. I notice many of her leaves are filled with holes, assumingly bitten by bugs. I lay down and watch the clouds through her leaves, thankful that the sun is out today and that it is warm enough to get by in a t-shirt. A slow breeze ruffles Mari’s leaves and tickles my skin, raising the hair on my arms and sending a slight shiver down my spine as my body attempts to keep itself warm. The sound of laughter travels to my ears from the Trellis as some students eat their sandwiches from the Quarry. I sit back up and watch as a few cars pass by on the street, and then I turn back to look at Mari. Her leaves have not yet been touched by autumn and almost seem greener than the first time I met her. Her bark is smooth to the touch and the fuzzy bud coverings scattered throughout her leaves are soft. As I pack up my things and walk away, I notice her leaves waving slightly in the wind, as if waving goodbye to me.
The he sky through Mari’s leaves