During one particularly lazy walk to class I came across a traveling troubadour of sorts. In reality he was probably a third-year biology major with an inner passion for the six string, but I think the word “troubadour” has a certain ring to it. Either way, he sat on a wooden bench and just sort of fiddled around with his guitar, entranced by himself, but not in a self absorbed way. It felt more like he was just doing his own thing, and inviting whoever to listen, without making it an obligation; There was no open guitar case for tips, no shout outs for requests.
People came and went, just for a minute or so. Nobody really stopped and gathered. There was no clapping crowd or impromptu dance numbers, it was all about the simplicity of the experience. Nonetheless, though, it was entertainment, in a completely unadulterated form and because of that we all appreciated it, even if subconsciously.
These sorts of things happen all over campus every day, and I never really noticed them, until now.
Why is it, though, that I always felt like I could only be entertained by Jersey Shore reruns or hearing Ke$ha sing “blah, blah, blah” (which I now realize is literally about nothing)? I usually walk with my earphones in, almost physically separating myself from the world around me, but not anymore.
I want to notice the students sketching a picture in the quad, the girl busting a move leaving Sykes and, of course, I want to hear more from Mr. Troubadour Man.
Michael Driscoll is a second-year writing major and can be reached at MD737278@wcupa.edu.