October. Auburn leaves, Patagonia sweaters, apple cider and pumpkins galore. There is a busy−bee atmosphere about the Hill as 95 percent of the student body settles into study patterns while the other 5 percent watches. After a rigorous Monday afternoon of doing as little work as I could get away with, I hopped, skipped and jumped to the third floor of South while grand visions of kicking back and goofing off for a few hours danced though my head. But what's this? Noses buried in books, pencils on paper, a wisp of stress in the air? Oh no, not yet! I frantically consulted my calendar and realized it was true: exam season had arrived.
Moments later, after I collected myself from the initial shock, a few friends informed me that they were headed to the library. Realizing that my hopes for an entertaining evening were shot, I reluctantly decided to join. And so began my first trip to Club Tisch.
The library is a fascinating place, full of important life decisions — table or cubicle? Which floor? Convo area? Should I pre−game? All these choices form your Tisch persona. After making the first tough decision — which gate to use to enter the President's Lawn after crossing the street from the campus center — I made my way up the steps and into the library.
Upon entering I made a quick right — no, not into the reading room, that Hades of Tisch where dreams go to die and condescending glares run amok — but into Tower Café to grab a 20−ounce lukewarm cup of brewed beans and caffeine to get my mind juices flowing. I then entered the main floor, looked around for a moment, and several conclusions arose.
Cubicles: Two very different kinds of students sit here. Exhibit A: "Holy s−−t I have a paper due and/or a test tomorrow, and if I don't block out my body's sensory receptors, the surrounding idiots will surely hinder my academic prowess." Exhibit B: "I need to wallow alone in my ADD shame and hide from others the fact that I'm alternating tabs between Facebook and Wikipedia while listening to Ke$ha. Maybe I'll get bored and do real work eventually."
Convo Area: If you changed your outfit three times before hitting up Club Tisch to "do work," you may want to reconsider your priorities. The way I see it, you should either stay in your dorm or house and chill, or go to Tisch and work efficiently so you can chill later. The conversation area a wimpy medium that is neither fun nor productive. Unless you're working on a legitimate group project or it is 2 p.m., you are going to do no work and might as well have gone to Powder House Pub.
Basement: This place is my jam. When I need to write a paper or do some urgent reading, I hole up here. Many fear the basement but seriously, it's great. Check it out and you'll never go back.
Level G: Kind of a mystery. Students sitting here are secretly hoping in the back of their minds that their nights might somehow culminate in some steamy sex in the stacks; needless to say, this vision rarely comes to be.
Study rooms: Pre−games.
So I ended up setting up camp at a table near the purple hallway, next to a few books that seemed to be, from what I could glean, about various undersea expeditions off the coast of Australia between 1969 and 1974. I started to ponder the last time anyone touched 99.6 percent of the books in this place. Finally, after staring into space for a while, I cracked open my own book. And then I closed it and wrote this instead.
--
Chelsea Stevens is a sophomore who has not yet declared a major. She can be reached at Chelsea.Stevens@tufts.edu.
