I SHOULDA KNOWN BETTER

Note: This was originally submitted via my Facebook post, but I have decided to place on my blog in an effort to give the readers a better perspective of my oh-so-sad (hysterically sad) life. This post is also formally dedicated to all of the graduate students in the struggle trying to find a place to study during finals week.

I shoulda known better…

After hours of procrastination this morning, I finally decided that my final paper was never going to be completed within the comforts of my own home. The TV Land Christmas Marathon was incredibly distracting, and turning off the television only opened an invitation for me to listen to my iPod. I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have any songs worth listening to, but that only prompted me to log onto my iTunes account and purchase three albums that I quickly lost my interest within an hour time span. It was with that final attempt at “sloughing” off my paper that I decided to get up and head for Leavy Library, the birthplace of so many “A quality” midterm examinations and gap analysis segments. It’s also the place where I met (and broke up with) my fake library boyfriend and where I consumed over 350 milliliters of caffeine in 10 minutes. Yes, this was my destination…

I shoulda known better…

In an effort to prepare myself for the long night ahead of me, I stopped at my local Starbucks to fuel my caffeine craving. I have discovered that there is a strong correlation between my caffeine consumption and the grades I receive. The higher the caffeine intake, the higher the grade. I was going for a Venti White Chocolate Mocha with a double shot of espresso! However, upon the evaluation of the menu prices, and my checking account balance, I decided to get a cup of “free” ice water and one of the new Vivanno smoothies. I figured it would have enough sugar to cause at least three of my teeth too fall out, so it should match the caffeine equivalent. Turns out there’s no sugar in the drink, just a natural fruit mixture. If I wanted nature, I would have eaten my neighbor’s lawn. To top it off, the drink was too thick, so I couldn’t even use the straw they gave me; I had to take the lid off and tilt the cup until the drink came out. What’s wrong with that? Remember, the drink was incredibly thick, so the cup had to be at a 45 degree angle in order for any liquid to move…which it did…all at once directly onto my face and clothes. Lovely…

I shoulda known better…

Traffic on the 10 was unusually slow, but there was no one on the freeway. The cluster of fifteen cars that were on the freeway drove at a maximum of 30 mph. I understand that it is a Sunday, and the Lord rested, but COME ON!!! He created the world in six days! All these people did was get into a fight with someone at the Toys-R-Us for the last “Tickle-Me-Because-I-Lost-All-My-Money-In The-Stock-Market-So-I-Need-A-Reason-To-Laugh-Elmo”. Perhaps they were feeling especially relaxed because USC beat UCLA the previous day…I don’t know. In any case, they weren’t moving fast enough and I spent a lot of my gas dipping in between cars with Christmas trees and USC license plate holders that dated back to the 80s.

I shoulda known better…

I finally exit the freeway and proceed down Figueroa to campus. I make my usual right turn onto campus and zoom by the parking attendant so that I may retrieve my normal, illegal parking spot on the second floor. There’s no parking. Anywhere. I circle around for minutes, praying to get a glimpse of an opening. Nothing. At one point, I briefly contemplate squeezing my car in between a Tahoe and an Escalade, but I love my Volvo too much and just drive to another parking lot. I finally find a park, but not after almost running over three undergrads skateboarding in the street. THIS IS A UNIVERSITY, NOT A SKATE PARK, TONY HAWK!! GO HOME AND READ A BOOK! I need coffee…

I shoulda known better…

FINALLY! I am walking on campus to the library. The crowded parking lot must be a reflection of some convention or alumni event, because by no means is it a reflection on the number of people in the library. I’m an expert. I know these things.

I take the elevator to the fourth floor, make a right around the corner to see THOUSANDS (well not really, but a lot) of people sitting in my spot! HOW DARE YOU? First of all, where were these people at the beginning of the semester? Where were these people in the middle of the semester? Where were these people LAST WEEK? Doesn’t this library have VIP seating for their frequent guests? This is Los Angeles, after all, so the library should have the same policy as clubs on Sunset.

I quickly find myself getting frustrated. Here I am, a DOCTORAL STUDENT, searching for a place to sit amongst toddlers. I start to look at the engineering majors who are asleep on their computers; their books and notepads consuming an entire table. Wastes of space! Oh, and here is someone who is reading Hamlet, probably for an Introductory Shakespeare class. What’s the matter, the Sparknotes version won’t help you on your final? And let’s look at the people on MySpace and Facebook! Don’t you have a dorm room for that? GET UP! I shouldn’t have to deal with this! I’m a grown up! In two years, I’ll be making the administrative policy decisions on how much you PAY to even SIT in this library! I accept defeat and move down to the third floor.

I shoulda known better….

The third floor is even worse because the problem is multiplied. Not only is the floor overcrowded, but it is overcrowded with CUTE PEOPLE and FRAT BOYS.

If you are looking for cute Ethiopians, you should go to Pico and Fairfax or the third floor Leavy. That’s where you’ll find them. Now normally, I wouldn’t have a problem with this…except I am dressed like a homeless woman. Seriously. I have on a head scarf, no earrings, poorly applied eyeliner, no mascara, an oversized gray sweatshirt I purchased from the Gap Outlet (so it fits irregularly and the collar is hemmed incorrectly), Adidas workout pants and tennis shoes. Let’s not forget that I have recently accessorized this outfit by spilling smoothie all over the top half. Everyone else on this floor is matching and then there is me. I’m just waiting for the fashion police to come and ask me for my USC ID and then kick me out.

To compound my fashion problem, I cannot find a seat ANYWHERE EXCEPT IN FRONT OF THE CUTE PEOPLE. So as I type this, they are literally facing me. They are cute AND they look like they are really studying! Nothing is more sexy than a man who can read at a college level! (Oh wait, they are using graphing calculators, which can only mean one thing…Math or Economics majors! Oh, they are over saturating the market of my heart!)

However, the day dreams of my Ethiopian wedding are being dashed by the Macbook frat boy and sorority girl coalition, one of whom believes that it is proper library etiquette to tell his “bro” how much he just “f***in’ rocked out to this f***in’ song dude”. I know you are “f***in’ rockin’ out to that f***in’ song dude” because you are playing it loud enough so that everyone can hear it! Furthermore, your iPhone just rang, so now everyone is “rockin’ out to that f***in’ song dude”. Oh please, let’s continue the offense by ANSWERING the phone and telling the person to call you back so that you can “rock out” to it again, while the other members of the 13 inch Macbook frat can laugh hysterically and disturb everyone.

Now I sit here without having made any progress on my paper because I felt compelled to write about this!

I shoulda stayed home.