I’ve recently entered a relationship, or a love affair, rather, that has gotten pretty serious. When I wake up, I think of seeing her (sometimes with disdain). I have the urge to just go see her and get in the zone for a couple hours. As I approach the place I know she will always reside, my heart races with excitement, also frightened at the possibility of her having no interest in me, but not by choice. I am tormented when I walk by and see another paramour spending the quality time with her that I know I would enjoy more. I feel cheated. I am talking, of course, of my newfound love for my favorite study space. Oh yes, it’s finals season.
I’ve never been one for relationships with the library. It used to pain me to trek to the SciLi in the winter to work on that problem set or reading assignment. I’d rather hang out on my bed and do my work than hunker down in the stacks. All that changed, however, when I found, well, let’s call her Settia (I found a fake poinsettia there today so it seems fitting) to protect her identity and my ability to access the space. Her light-colored, upbeat wood, the enticing silence surrounding her, her refined, curvy accompanying chair. Oh man, she’s perfect. When I’m with her, it’s just me, her, and my War and Politics books. Romantic, huh? Continue Reading