The Library is the Place

It wouldn’t be finals week if I wasn’t blogging instead of writing a paper.

My carrel, which I often call Procrastination Station, has been very active these past two weeks. Sometimes I feel that more has happened there than at Saga, which is saying something, because a lot of interesting things happen at Saga. Like the time that my friend Matt brought me a Dr. Pepper with twenty straws in it when I asked him for one. Somewhere on the Internet is a picture of me attempting to drink a Dr. Pepper through twenty straws at the same time.

When I was a freshman, I was told by numerous people that my junior year was going to be difficult. I instantly referred back to high school in which my junior year was difficult, but it was a great year. Junior year in high school was the best of both worlds; you were an upperclassman taking all the cool classes, but you didn’t have to worry about doing senior stuff. Like applying to colleges. It was golden.

Junior year at Alma has been almost the same way; I’m thoroughly enjoying upperclassmen status and reveling in the fact that I don’t have to do awkward senior things. My brother has been constantly talking about picking up his cap and gown at College Corner. I’m one of those people that would completely forget about it and then show up to commencement without the proper attire.

So when they told me that being a junior was going to suck, I didn’t really believe them.

I should have. Two upper level lit classes and an upper level education class have slowly been sucking away my soul.

My hell week (which did involve Simba going everywhere with me) and my finals week stacked up something like this.

Three 8-10 page papers. Two full-blown exams. Three education projects. One presentation. One gigantic choir concert, otherwise known as Masterworks.

I diligently holed myself up at Procrastination Station and got to work.

Last week, I managed to write a final draft of my first 8-10 page paper and turn it in with a flourish. But it wasn’t without a struggle. Being on crutches and unable to carry books, I enlisted my friend Adam to help me collect books about an old dead white guy from England named John Donne that wrote poetry in the 1500′s.

As someone who has had a carrel for two years in a row (and the same carrel to boot) I understand that books must either be checked out to my carrel or reshelved after 24 hours. I already had a bunch of books for my paper on Frankenstein that were sitting on my carrel shelf with a brightly colored reshelving notice. Now I had a huge pile of John Donne books on top of that. Instead of trying to figure out a way to carry them down to the circulation desk by myself without hands, I wrote the library staff a very eloquent plea that in short, went something like this: “Hey library staff, I’m on crutches and writing a huge paper, can I keep these until Wednesday?”

I promise, it was much more eloquent.

The day that I set off to write my John Donne paper, I found that my entire carrel had been rearranged; all of my folders were neatly stacked, my loose papers had been piled, and even my sticky note to-do list was organized. My John Donne books, all of them, had been hidden expertly by my critical theory book and my education folder. And what I found was a note.

The note says, “Emily, in order to avoid troubles with the library bureaucracy, hide your books as demonstrated! Throw the white and pink slips away and carry on breaking carrel law. Good luck, The Library Defender of the Weak.”

I had made a new friend.

When I came back from dinner, after spoiling all of the organization that my new library friend had worked on, I found another jewel waiting for me amidst my sticky notes.

Yes, my carrel very well represents my life: completely not put together.  (Also, there is a picture on my carrel that says vagina. You weren’t just seeing that. It’s actually there.)

You know those people that always have their stuff together and you just know that they’re going to go out into the world and get great jobs and do great things?

I am not one of those people.

I managed to get my John Donne paper cranked out by one in the morning, right when the library closed. I was so excited that I took this picture.

This is what one in the morning eight page paper euphoria looks like.

As of right now, I have two papers left and two exams. I will still be living at Procrastination Station, where odd things are still bound to happen, such as nice notes from library defenders, awkward pictures of myself and my finished papers at one in the morning, and sketches of fancy cats from Adam.

Procrastination Station welcomes you. Stop by. I’m pretty much guaranteed to be there.

And of course, good luck with finals. Just remember, your value as a person has nothing to do with grades. You should probably still study, though.

I’ll leave you with a picture of my carrel in all of its glory.

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