Looking for a deeper place to study or have a spiritual awakening?
The hustle and bustle of campus can stray a mind from each hidden spot to be explored and adored, but I’ll provide you a locale list as recompense for any loss you’ve experienced by spiritual absence of UTK’s esoteric expanse.
As I dwelled on the origin of this article, moments from the past recurred to me. Though I trek through UTK’s campus for hidden spots, I could not help but to melodramatically recall my time last semester at a nameless university in Kansas.
I cherished moments where I passed a joint with my friend under a decrepit Willow Tree. Cthuimbr’meh ought to be an alias for this individual.
The salix emitted feelings of refuge, not dissimilar to the locations in this guide. As I wearily uttered my hesitations, Cthuimbr’meh reassured me that the salix’s umbrella-like leaves ought to make us indistinguishable from shrubbery to any roaming law enforcement.
Hidden in plain sight. Only one tree stood furtive yet mundane in the microcosmic marsh neighboring my friend’s apartment. Though a more naive individual would take this location as one for hide-and-seek, Cthuimbr’meh accompanied me to play video games as soon as the joint resolved into an unsmokable nub.
Hidden spots need not just provide aesthetic value; A tenebrous location may provide utility in surplus to its Unutterable, sightly appearance.
My trend of visitation to unknown rooms, tunnels and crevices continued onwards to Tennessee. My spirit Lingered.
The Theater Left Behind.
Make certain not to show this one to UTPD. Its legality stands dubious, but I have yet to observe any law or sign which tells me I am doing anything illegal.
Introductions aside, you can find a staircase leading to a mysterious door at the side of Walter Academic Building by the street.
For some reason this door is open. After you move down the hallway inside, you’ll reach a subsequent unassuming door.
For some other reason this passage is also open. Should you enter, you’ll fall straight into what was once a dream distribution area: the Theater Left Behind.
The Theater Left Behind shines with hoards of empty seats facing a gray screen. For some reason, the light switch still operated in this abandoned area.
For the student who wants a dystopian change in scenery, the Theater Left Behind is the place to visit.
The Isolated Lookout.
Affectionately referred to as the Isolated Lookout, a lonesome chair obscurely sits in the Alumni Memorial Building (AMB).
Once you go to the staircase in the northeast corner of AMB, walk up the staircase until you reach the top.
You will detect nothing but a locked door, a nearby vent and a plain chair gazing out to a plain view of Neyland Stadium (but not the neat and industrial inside) and the street beside it. Receiving the prior information may construe acutely alike the dull aspects of decentralized and mayhap unplanned interior architecture, yet still, it interests me for three reasons:
1: Why on earth is the chair located there? Nowhere else in this university’s architecture will you find a “room” with a singular chair that one could just pick up and physically plagiarize. (For the love of childlike wonder, do not do this.)
2: The remainder of the AMB’s seating is composed of unbearable benches at the entrance, where everyone will direct nameless eyes at you as those faux-inquisitive crowds pass through the doors. The chair is both only mildly uncomfortable and fully isolated, unrivaled by any other spot.
3: Its adjacency to near faulty vents creates a cool breeze not dissimilar to that experienced on preferential winter evenings.
The Isolated Lookout is, however, simply one spot in my arsenal of study locations.
Dear reader, if you have been in a group project with me then you will steadily be acquainted with the proceeding location. Woefully, this would render my pen name to no purpose. Opportunely, any observers of this location ought to feel indebted to me such that they would nary be so bold as to give up my identity.
My minimalist office.
As would be expected from a separate, mainstream article encouraging hidden spots, the Student Union brings itself to be mentioned. For this one you must head to Meeting Room 12A on the 3rd floor. There’s a small locked door in the corner of the room with a sign that reads “no entry.”
And as is often the case with such doors, the latch is an open farce set only for fools with no daring and no will to venture beyond what the mind can comprehend. Up the stairs, an architectural structure typically titled a “mechanical penthouse” is left to be discovered.
Travel through a network of hallways and avoid stepping on the corpses of electronics or the rare ancient puddles. Eastward is a modest staircase, which ought to be your next path.
Walk downwards to a vertical level whose magnitude would only be known to the nameless persons who elect to discard tables and ladders into an unknowing pit, which I will now describe.
The amenities include a table which I will eventually clean, a five-legged wheeled chair which has four wheels, power outlets near the dust ridden table and acoustics so echo-like they ought be suited for an opera.
A chamber of echoes filled with silence allows treacherous games such as an experiment with one procedure: placing objects in my office until they are discovered and displaced.
Examples of this may be displacing weary equipment from the floor above or other indigenous basements. My current count of this activity is one chair. Should there be a part two to this article, I shall provide an update.
Absent from the eyes of my opponents and darkest observers. Absent from a wi-fi signal. Absent from maintenance or any basic janitorial trace. My Minimalist Office sits dormant in a basement, as kept secretive between me and you.
Please continue to part two
