It is a Friday evening and a cold wind is blowing outside. Though its only the middle of September, the remnants of the first snow of the season are still present along shaded sidewalks. Yellowed leaves frozen to a crisp are fluttering and the sky is a strange shade of grey, signalling neither rain, nor snow, and promising no sunshine either. As I sit here in a warm corner of the atrium, I seem to be working on something of great import, perhaps an assignment due later this evening, to the average onlooker. Yet here I am, without energy to start on any assigned work, but with complete charge to observe and pen all I see and feel.

As I sit here in the corner of a rather small atrium, I am witnessing the hustle bustle of preparations being made for an important dinner. Under the directives of a rather polite leader, the volunteers are running about, filling balloons, staging curtains, and risking their lives on makeshift ladders trying to get posters up on the wall. In this atmosphere of laughter and determination, I see and feel the zeal of ambition; there is a spirit of industrialism that is unmatched by the average student who attends fifty minute lectures on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

At the spectacle of human ambition I find myself unable to scoff at times like these. There is so much potential in one human, so much worth.