I sit here in my cubicle, a college cubicle, older and forever the perpetual student. I am isolated from the others. I am not here for friendship or socialization, I am here to learn and think. Rites of Spring blares through my iPod. My laptop is my only companion, and I communicate with it, tell it all my deepest feelings, pour out my fingertips to its willing keyboard.
This is a large college, and hundreds of students are in this learning lab, flirting and talking and getting numbers. Not too many are here to learn. But I am beyond that stage of life; I have a spouse and house and pets and a yard. I’m not here for the hookup. I have relational stability, and have no desire to be swept back into the current of dating society.
No one knows me and no one bothers me. It doesn’t matter that I am a bearded mid-thirties student. In fact, it helps, because no one wants to know that guy. I am a loner.
This isn’t a work cubicle where I have to respect others around me and answer their dumb questions and laugh at their stupid jokes. I am not confined to this cubicle, not strapped down by a paycheck to this chair, not watched over by some corporate big brother monitoring system.
This college cubicle is a respite from all that. It is my place of peace and prayer and meditation. I can shut out all that work pressure and interpersonal communication pressure and just be. This college cubicle allows me to rest and be. Learning is not a stress, it is a cure. For two hours twice a week, I have a cure for my mind, for my soul, a place of peace for my inner being.