And it's that time of the Semester again.

Somehow, exams always inspire me to write. Or maybe it's just my way of doing anything but studying. After last semester, I realized that I simply cannot afford to get stressed, because honestly, in the next four years, I would be going through Semester exams seven more times. If I lost my cool each time, the world would be left with a dying lady by the time I graduated.

Exam time in NTU is quite an affair. Everyone finds their "study spot", gets comfortable, and in less than a span of a week, make this spot their home. Students have a wide choice range - any place in the Spines, the umpteen reading rooms, or a random toilet. From toothbrush to extra underwear, soon, this spot has got it all.

However, not all students are open to this concept. Some of the less nomadic people decide that they do, in fact, need a bed to sleep on. This set of students are the Library People. A band of strong, valiant students who brave the long walk from the library to their rooms every night. Some fight for place in the Quiet Zone, despite the rather large, and slightly scary security guard who seems to assume that dropping a pen makes a thousand-decibel noise.

But, truly, after a few days, even the Library People get incredibly attached to their new homes. Personally, in the last few weeks, there seems to be nothing that I haven't done in the library. From watching episodes of FRIENDS ( laughter therapy, in my defense. To de-stress, see.), to giving out a high-pitched scream when poked in the back by a random passer-by (okay, not so random), I seem to have done it all.

Study sessions with fellow sufferers are quite amusing. The latest gossip is dutifully discussed, with "Oh my", and "Really?", being the most used punctuation. Lists are made: post-exam fun, inheritance lists (if the exams kill us), and back-up lists (with so much to study, we may never have time to meet The One). Facebook stalking becomes an hourly activity, and chocolate becomes a necessity.

And when we're not freezing in the ice-box that is the library, the benches outside are our refuge. Soulless and depressing as they are, the Library People aren't called brave for nothing.

So, I sign off, with frozen feet (the Hall 15 reading room has the ability to freeze anyone who dares to walk in), and a dead brain.

Nothing Changes

What difference does anything make if you can't change what you want to change about yourself, about the world? Care strongly for something crucial, something life-changing, or be fascinated by the trivialities of the world. It doesn't matter. You can silently live in this world of consumerism and materialism and nothing will be any different from living away from all the superficiality.
Maybe conformity is the only way.