I found it.
Amidst the wreckage of undergraduates leaving their coats and laptops alone at McGill computers (oh, in case you didn’t know: that’s code for — I’m using that computer don’t go near it. That, and also just logging in and ‘forgetting’ to log out are supposed to be clues that someone is already sitting there and that you should not sit there…anyway, I’m glad there are library help desks and security officers in place for this reason) for hours at a time, and the stuffy, smelly ‘feel’ of library mid-term madness, I cannot find anywhere sane to do my work. All that I see are awful sweatpants, big backpacks that shouldn’t be worn beyond sixth grade, big hipster-wannabe eyeglasses, some books and papers, and hunched backs with eyes staring into laptop screens plastered with Facebook profiles for hours and hours and hours on end. Where oh where can I do my work? There is no space anywhere.
Then at some point I accidentally press the wrong button in the elevator and end up on the wrong floor. Oops. Well, the entire floor is silent. The only sound is that of typing, very, very fast typing. The kind of typing that can only be associated with writing a thesis or dissertation and not with adding comments on Facebook. Several students are spread out throughout this floor with its high ceilings and wide open spaces. It’s like heaven. And on each desk, equipped with plugs and everything your heart may desire, is written clearly on a small notice: this desk is reserved for graduate students only. Why didn’t I know about this before? I’m dumbfounded, as I finish more work than I’ve ever been able to finish in an hour and a half, looking up from moment to moment to the beautiful landscapes and sunset outside of the large bay windows.
This is wonderful. I have a place to exist!
I breathe a sigh of relief.