Someone is scratching their leg, erratic and soft. My professor is speaking… loudly; it makes it hard to drown him out. The door to the room is shut but that doesn’t prevent the sounds of the hallway from seeping in. The front doors to the hall squeak open and snap shut unexpectedly. It’s loud, even through the door. The air conditioner in the hallway is low but the constant buzz is still there. The guy next to me is scraping his pen across his paper. The sound is not soft and rhythmical, but quick and sharp. I don’t believe he is taking notes, or if he is, he is scratching something out, but most likely he is drawing. The sound of a girl speaking comes through the speakers piercingly. I try to drown out the sound, but it is almost impossible. I can, however, hear my heart in my ears. She mumbles and stutters, annoyingly speaking through her nose that she is standing 2 feet from a shot gun mic. It is me. I want to vomit. My pen clicks with each letter I write. My professor’s voice comes in:
- Mic perspective- the closer you are to the microphone, the warmer and richer the sound. The further away you are, the thinner the sound.
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