Nightlife in Isla Vista just isn’t what it should be during Dead Week.
I hate Davidson Library. It’s a towering dungeon of shitty chairs, their cushions flattened so long ago by acid wash-wearing asses. I only go there when I have a paper that requires research. And I loathe research.
Plus it’s a genuinely creepy place — would be a lot creepier if the fluorescent lights didn’t make everything look a bus depot. But there’s this bizarre system of air currents that blow through all eight floors of the library, wafting that old book smell everywhere. The wind howls through the cracks around every door, stopping only when somebody enters a room and then resuming when the door closes. And then inexplicably, far from any door or window or other kind of portal, these random gusts blow by. A weird place. No quiero la biblioteca.
I need to finish an eight-page paper on changelings in Irish literature by noon. I think I should sleep now though. I actually thought of substituting "Gapfrizelle" for my TA’s name, Vanessa. As a joke. I’m not sure even I can remember why that’s funny anymore.