I did not leave Allison yesterday. I suppose this happens to the best of us. Saturday night’s debauchery and barefooted BK run left me with a slight headache and a load of academic responsibility for Sunday. Most of the time was spent in my room reading Shakespeare, and researching the Kanye West v. Jimmy Kimmel feud (#NODISRESPECTTOBENAFFLECK).
I was essentially a troll, with my dark room representing the underside of a bridge. I didn’t even take advantage of free food in downtown Evanston because I didn’t want to put socks on.
Today is a new day. I am wearing real person clothes, I am financially obligated to go to other buildings for classes, and I decided to explore the library in the hopes of getting some shit done. The shit being, but not limited to 1) finding a study area I can call my own 2) beginning a journalism paper and 3) wasting time before dinner and the inescapable gravity of the Allison dining hall.
Luckily, one of those would be accomplished as long as I didn’t choke on my own insignificance and die. And so I walked into the library with a friend, and the following journey began:
3:35 PM - I struggle to gain entrance because of my WildCard ineptitude. Rough start. I would struggle as a grocery store cashier, which is where my journalism degree might lead me.
3:37 PM - I have absolutely no idea what the fuck I’m doing. I’m not going to ask someone. I am a prospie, nevermore.
3:42 PM - My friend and I stop to look at the orange modernist painting with the weird ovals. We make snarky comments on the ambiguity of modern art. I release a small fart before walking away quickly. Isn’t that what paintings are for?
3:45 PM - We find escalators. Escalators are fun! I subconsciously decide to take escalators for as long as I can.
3:51 PM - I find an area with a great view of the lakefill. This will provide a great place for me to get work done while I ponder human mortality. Item 1 is complete.
4:07 PM - I’ve been sitting here for close to twenty minutes with no progress to show for it. My friend is working, and nobody in this area is talking. I don’t know what to do with myself.
4:22 PM - I snapchat a humblebrag picture with my view of the lakefill to my friends at other schools. I hate me.
4:30 PM - A girl in front of me brings sushi to her table. Do people eat in the library? Is this a thing?
4:54 PM - My friend is furiously flipping between pages in his book and typing with powerful strokes. He’s basically fucking his homework in front of me. This is becoming a distraction for me. I open iTunes because I haven’t listened to music in a couple minutes. The RL Grime Love Sosa remix comes on shuffle. My happiness is misplaced.
5:05 PM - Sushi girl has her back to me and is brazenly displaying her sushi without eating it. Is this a territorial display?
5:20 PM - All of these books are intimidating. When the fuck am I going to learn about Genghis Khan? Do I want to learn about Genghis Khan? Am I related to Genghis Khan?
5:20:33 PM - 0.5 % of the world’s males are related to Genghis Khan. Most of which in the Mongolia region. I think I’m safe. Why did I come here again?
5:25 PM - Journalism. Fuck. My stomach tells me it is time to leave.
5:30 PM - I close my laptop and head toward the escalators, which, unfortunately, are just regular-ass stairs on the way out.
Two out of three isn’t too bad, right? And it’s my first time in this concrete prison of knowledge, so there is plenty of room for improvement in learning to study in the place where you are supposed to study.
But then again, who gives a shit? All of these expectations are placed on freshmen and college students in general. I intend to do what works for me and makes me happiest, whether it becomes studying in my dorm, or eating sushi in the library. What we should be here to do is create our own path that is different than anything before us. I hope I can create a path out of this library. It’s 6:07 and I’m starving.
