I spent last night at the library in a last-ditch attempt to pick up the fallen pieces of my academic career. I guess in some sense it was gratuitous, but in another it was wholly called for. I had grown far too accustomed to sleep and rest. My biological clock needed to be shaken up a bit, or it would only have continued getting in the way of productive work. At any rate, it was rather a productive night, if I say so myself. I only hope sleep-deprivation won't give way to the realization that it was quite otherwise. I had decided that it was high time I did an all-nighter, a decision that was precipitated by a debacle so embarrassing that I shall refrain from saying anything at all about it until such a time as I can be sure that I'll be able to look back on it and laugh. Suffice it to say that my earlier reference to the fallen pieces of my academic career was not without merit.
I managed to get a sizable portion of my algorithms homework done. I only hope I haven't made mistakes in any of my exuberant proofs by contradiction. An assignment here, an assignment there - that sort of thing. In the end it was a productive night, and I left the library at the dim hour of 5:30 AM, and perambulated, quite unnecessarily, much of campus. It was a pleasant misty morning, well before sunrise (thank goodness), and the amorphous yellow glow of the streetlights seemed to suggest something so ominous that I had to pinch myself lest it transpire that Halloween had in fact passed. There was not a soul in sight, except for the occasional police car. I ended up at the band building (to call it the "music" building would be to grossly exaggerate its utility to anyone gifted with the ability to tell music from noise), where I discovered, once again, that I was not a pianist by any stretch of the imagination. I ate breakfast after that, which I soon regretted. Why am I writing out every mundane thing I did? Doubtless it's the sleep-deprivation.
Anyway, you probably thought that there was going to be a rant somewhere in all this drivel, and I won't disappoint. People who go to the library just to sprawl out on the couch and sleep. Are. The. Worst. People. On. The. Planet. I went down to the common area of the library around 1 AM to see this hideous caveman of a person yawn obscenely and pass out on one of the couches, unshod and everything. And that was in addition to the girl on another couch and the guy curled up in the fetal position in a little chair next to a bookcase. It was as if Morpheus had swept through the room for no reason in particular. Oh, and lest you get the impression that these shamelessly slumbering sloths exhibited a healthy degree of diversity, let me add that they were all Indian. Ugh. If the aforementioned caveman had opened an eye the moment my gaze fell on him, he would have seen me violently retching at the sight of him. I'm not kidding. I actually went through the motions of retching when I saw how shamelessly this mass of genetic refuse had appropriated the common area for his own depraved purposes. If he had shown some hint of discomfiture - if he had shown some sign that what he was doing was only as a last resort... But that wasn't the case. Needless to say, I'm going to think twice, thrice, four times before going anywhere near those couches.
Where was I? Oh yeah. I would have still thought it reasonable if Couch Potato, et al. had decided to take a quick nap in the middle of working on assignments, though I would have still disapproved of their choice of location. But no. These squatters went to bed at 1 AM or earlier, and awoke comfortably after 7, stretching wantonly out on property meant for all students as the custodians sprayed disapprobatory cleaning solution in their faces. And Indian people have the conceit to think that their reputation for being unclean, inconsiderate, and unrefined is all racism? Seriously?
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