I turn down my freewheeling friends on a fairly consistent basis, each of whom helplessly hopes that after three and a half years, I might finally be done studying.
Unfortunately, my response tends to take the form of a slightly revised rendition of an old Karen Carpenter song: “Yeah, I’ve only just begun.”
I don’t know what poses the bigger threat to my own happiness: missing my friends to no avail, or loathing my studies with a fiery passion. It’s probably both, but at the very least I can hope beyond hope that I’m not alone in my daily — who am I kidding — my hourly study-time versus buddy-time predicament. Sadly, it isn’t like I’m blowing them off for anything special.
This is usually how it all plays out: After three days of deliberation, you finally muscle up the courage to take the long trek to Courtright. As you walk in, you coyly veil to the unassuming bystanders that you are, in fact, aimlessly wandering the second floor, probably in similar fashion to how they did earlier.
After a routine gauging of second-floor decibel levels (only to be reminded, yet again, that freshmen find studying to be not only an hour-long conversation topic but a hilarious topic for discussion), you make it to a table that happens to have an electrical socket within the tri-state area.
You settle down. You exhale for 35 minutes, only to push papers around for another hour, then pick up an unsharpened pencil. You are then interrupted by the faint, familiar sound of peer pressure: a shindig reminder text.
I’ve never been much for scheming, but with every cordial invitation that reads, “Free concert, tonight, 11ish,” I feel more and more inclined to respond, “Courtright, now. I may or may not have tacos,” with the hope of enticing someone to join me. They never buy it. Is it so terrible to hope to find that special someone that might join me in my own unique scholastic misery?
What’s really sad about all of this is that I’ve made a lot of progress. I’ve experienced a steady evolution from my insecure freshman foolery to sophomore slumping, which at the time inevitably led to a phase that involved a Steven Glansberg approach to OtterDen luncheon eatery (pending you get the “Superbad” reference). Through all of that I know now that I suck at being a loner, and this applies to my study habits.
Given this fact and that I am a terrible influence on myself, I have drawn the conclusion that I am left with no choice but to post a want ad in my student paper for a study buddy. And just so you know, if Uptown Westerville ever happens to add a billboard, look up.
