The reason I have been in Clemons Library (oh, the joy) since 10am today during Homecoming Weekend is because I have a ten page paper. This delightfully even-numbered paper needs to get done. Now.
I dared to breathe unfiltered air and feel unadulterated sunlight when I ventured out to grab lunch with Sophie. We were on our way to Newcomb before it closed its doors for brunch, when I heard my name being called. Turning around, I see a person I hadn't seen in a while since he graduated this past May.
"Hey! What are you doing here?"
Oh, duh. It's Homecoming Weekend. The person out of place is me, coming out of a library on this gorgeous Saturday.
Suave as usual, BJ smiles generously and laughs off my social gaffe. I nervously laugh along. I know he is questioning the reason for my creeping out of Clemons, looking like I was wearing clothes that could pass off for my grandmother's PJs.
"You look cute."
Uh, thanks. I quickly explained that I was writing a ten page paper and was in the process of swiping a meal from Newcomb before retreating back into the fluorescent-striped rooms of Clemons. Then to stall an awkward silence, I turned around and introduced my friend Sophie. Luckily Sophie struck gold when she said she was a political science major, also writing a nine page paper.
"Ah," BJ said sympathetically, shaking hair out of his eyes, "I've done my fair share of long papers. You see I was also a political science major, double majoring with Economics."
"You see, the trick in a ten page paper is in the outline."
Nodding thoughtfully, Sophie looked at me and I realized that I was doomed. I had spent two hours on the abstract. There was no way I was going to have an outline and still finish this paper in time by Monday.
Thanking him and promising to meet up with him later, even though I didn't have his phone number, I walked away with Sophie. She was fascinated by Newcomb because it was her first time there as she didn't have a dining plan. I made sure that I showed her to taste-test everything before heaping piles of it on her plate. Newcomb is notorious for having food that looks decent, and then upon the first bite, laughing at you for believing its empty promise of deliciousness.
Well, I wrote enough now. It's only been 18 minutes and I wrote an entry. So why can't this essay finish?