I pretty much live in Trillium. I can’t stand the gloom of the library, so I do most of my work where I can always count on positive energy in the background- people eating, laughing, meeting up with friends, trying to get you to sign up for xyz or buy a raffle ticket. It’s a big place- 2 stories with the mezzanine, a separate area to shop for food. Though I’m physically sitting in Trillium, I (and the other 7-8 people usually plugged in) are somewhere in cyberspace, connecting with the world while our immediate locale buzzes around us. But its more than us- there are always newspapers on every other table- generally used for their sudoku and crosswords but present nonetheless (I usually find myself peering at an abandoned Cornell Sun on the table next to me). It seems there are two kinds of inhabitants in Trillium- those engaged in activities intended by the artists of Trillium (eating, sharing company with others), and those who are engaging strictly with information-whether paper or digital, and who are taking advantage of the atmosphere provided by the former inhabitants. Around dinner, the eaters and conversers seemed to have disappeared, but the information-engaged remain (including myself). The building, as a place whose purpose is for fun and conversation, provides comfort, even if it is not being used for those purposes.