Library Goers: The Third Floor

Walking across Brigham Square, you'll often find yourself making a mental confession of all the homework you didn't do when you were at your apartment and you suddenly felt it was vitally important to look through every one of the pictures tagged of you on facebook to make sure there are none that make you look unnecessarily uncool/homely/unspiritchal, or any other quality not on the list of ideal spouse qualities made in YW/YM, just in case that hottie from the ward (whom you haven't added yet because you don't have enough mutual friends and he/she might find it creepy that you know his/her first name, last name, middle name, and date of birth) wanders across your page and decides he/she can't live one more day without you. Anyway, until that day comes, you have to diligently study as if you really cared about your GPA and not just your FEC (future eternal companion). So you decide your penance is to find the darkest, most solitary armpit of the library and camp out there until you know the stuff so well you could go head to head with the Human Footnote.

But then there's the 3rd floor.

Thanks to the ironclad security of dainty Art History majors in navy blue pants, we must all pass through the Golden Gate of the 3rd floor to reach any quadrant of the library. Which means you must go through the gauntlet of the No Shh zone. Walking through this, newly extended, area of frivolity with a backpack full of unfinished homework is like walking in front of the Great and Spacious Building. Hearing the laughter and seeing the gleaming smiles of these wanton men and women who have majors that necessitate "group projects" and "team presentations" makes you want to throw your Norton Anthology out the window and join this world of social academia. Inevitably seeing multiple people from past wards/classes/Area 51, you hold tightly to your BYU Testing Center pencil like it is the Iron Rod, and close your eyes to make it through to the stairs. If you don't do your homework now you'll be up all night doing it in the one corner of your apartment that gets decent wireless but zero heat. With the end in sight you quicken your pace, but wait, did you just hear your name? Well you better go say hello.

4 hours later you realize you haven't even turned on your computer.