I can't possibly be the only one wishing Spring Break was right around the corner... again. Two weeks ago, whether it was at home, a tropical island or Anchorage (unless you. actually live in Anchorage), those nine days served as a huge sigh of relief, and it couldn't have come at a better time.
But while my days were filled with jubilation, I was plagued by nightmares of the work to come. A plethora of term papers and tests accompanies the end of the academic year, and it's hard not to think that all of your professors have conspired against you when everything is due within two days and the weekend counts as reading period (now that belongs on the "This Will Probably Piss Our Students Off" list).
The libraries have already turned into battlegrounds for the two Dukes: A & B (a hilariously accurate classification done by The Morning Wood of last semester's Monday, Monday). The A group includes full-time residents of all the libraries, while the B group just tries to cram into their heads as much of that 300-page textbook as possible (on the day before the exam, that is). Members of the first group will feel slighted once they lose the seats that don imprints of their bottoms, a sign of their nine months of dedication to the books, to members of the second crew. But the latter, after having shot-gunned (and/or keg-stood) the weekend away, will steal these seats and tell those Duke As that they should have called "fives" and that maybe they should go study in Teer. or something (that's the Pratt library, by the way).
There is another library-related battle, however, and it hinges on the query, "Where is the best place to study?"
As a freshman, when I first ventured to West Campus excitedly, I felt as if Bostock was the new place to be studious (it was all the rage, seriously). Plus, by being there, I could interact with more upperclassmen. I was fascinated with the beauty of the building and its immaculate rows of books that symbolized never-ceasing edifications.
I would spend hours in the library but when I left, something kept nagging me. I would exit with a feeling of incredulity as I realized hours had gone by without any official notice. The bright lights, cubicles and mostly window-lacking walls of Bostock did a thorough job at single-handedly eliminating the dimension of time.
I slowly began to build immunity to Bostock (the frustration with Safe Rides really topping it all off) and realized hours upon hours were being spent there, and too many of them were not spent studying.
But it was more than my realization of the time warp that pushed me away from Bostock's hallowed halls. It also stemmed from the realization that the place was rapidly becoming high-profile social space.
Club Bostock is what the multi-million dollar (55, to be exact) building was dubbed soon after its opening, leading to the birth of several Facebook groups ("Bostock is Better Than Home" and "Club Bostizzle," to name just a few). People were going to Bostock in droves (mispronouncing the name, all along the way), excited to utilize this new modern space. I heard a story about people fighting over a space in an apparently well-sought-after area.
It was at that moment when I heard about ensuing battles in Bostock (having nearby students request that you type a bit more softly included) that I realized something: Bostock was no longer good for my health. I figured (and still believe) that any place in which people would fight for desk space is a place I need to be as far away from as possible.
Now I am not attempting to discredit the joy that Bostock has brought to students overall. It is evident that Bostock has become commonplace in both the academic and social sectors of many people's happy lives. It is beautiful and its architecture helps it to blend in well with the surrounding, much older buildings (the Bryan Center wasn't so successful at that).
But for me, when it came to studying, I found a little bit of my sanity was slipping away with each hour spent in such a large building, with so many people, who (minus an infuriating few) took oaths of silence for hours on end. I had to ask myself repeatedly: "Am I in the library or a mental ward?"
So I looked for other places to study. I even tried to convince myself that my room would do. Ultimately I found it way too comfortable, with too many exciting alternatives (sleeping being No. 1 with friends coming in a close second).
After an exhaustive search, I realized the answer was on East Campus all along: Lilly.
Lilly has become my new late-night spot. Well, the Thomas Reading Room, more specifically. Lilly has an atmosphere that is extremely relaxed, but at the same time everyone knows that everyone else is working and act accordingly. The Thomas Reading Room helps Lilly feel like a library should: welcoming and calming while still functioning as a study space. Sure, eradicating my fear of turning pages too loudly (a fear held too strongly in Bostock) probably added to my liking of Lilly. But I also have been able to work without the allure of friends close by, which is exactly what made Bostock the club it was last year, as well as the battlefield it can sometimes become.
So what's my point? Considering that it's crunch time, that Duke As and Duke Bs alike are hitting the books, I encourage two things: first, don't overstress, and second, don't assume Bostock is the be all, end all. Find the space that's right for you.
Keesha Brown is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Thursday.
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