When it’s a struggle to find a seat in THE LECKY, you know: the shit has hit the fan. The situation has become so dire that saying “I’m cooked” isn’t even cutting it anymore, some have started to establish levels of cookedness. By the water fountain at the purple booths in the library complex a friend tells me he is cooked “medium rare” and I am so cooked the cow has started mooing again. If Spotify released a wrap on my top five most used phrases right now, the terms “cooked”, “locking in”, and “sweet treat”, would all definitely be up there. I leave my medium-rare level cooked friend by the water fountain and head back to the Ussher to LOCK IN. There is a SWEET TREAT in my pocket as well as two crumpled library dockets. I am COOKED.  

I know there are more students in my predicament than a headcount of the Lecky at the moment would like us to believe. We are all in the trenches. That kid who has been staring at his laptop for two hours straight without budging, he’s actually just watching a movie. Here are some more ways I’ve seen people go about “locking in” without actually doing so:

You tell yourself you’re “locking in” but end up talking to three different benches of people by the arts block. You don’t even know them, though now they certainly know you. 

You stay in the Ussher late enough to experience THE CHANGEOVER. 

You leave Kinsella Hall for home but all the usual campus entrances are locked (?!) 

Finally, you find that the Front Square gate is open, but you’ve missed your bus. 

You wrap your knuckles on the wooden door of Front Square to wait it out in the library, but it’s past midnight so the guy at the door won’t let you back in without the right password. 

You will never take this risk again.

You walk to the other end of campus to fill up your water bottle. You need the fresh air.

You craft an Instagram post.

You delete TikTok. You delete Instagram. 

You stalk your ex on LinkedIn. You stalk the now girlfriend of said ex on LinkedIn. And their hot cousin. 

You claim an available shift.

You search for a seat in Ussher 1. Your shoes won’t stop squeaking. You do a lap only to reach the same conclusion you secretly knew all along. It is full. You don’t check any other floors. You head for home. You’ve been humiliated enough. 

You take your dog on a hike. 

You redownload TikTok. You redownload Instagram. 

You take a quiz.

You spend an hour cleaning your room.

You spend another hour deep cleaning your room. 

You spend an hour deciding what to wear into college and in the process end up uncleaning your room. 

You download Strava and start to go running. 

You manage to find a seat in the Ussher. (It’s a swivel chair overlooking the cricket pitch but still). The fabric is so soft. You are so comfy. Your eyes start to close…. the library attendant ringing his bell and singing “library closingggg” doesn’t even wake you and because no one can see you in the swivel chair and you forgot your T-Card, you are locked in overnight. 

You DM the hot cousin. 

You drink an Americano all in one go.

BIG MISTAKE. The toilets don’t have WIFI. 

You break a trampoline record on that air bubble by Ussher 1.

You manage to find an actual seat in the Ussher. ON FLOOR 3 no less. All the cards have aligned. The fire alarm goes off. Some students have set fire to all their notes by the Golden Globe. You all gather around the bonfire to toast marshmallows. 

You accumulate enough library dockets to keep a small family warm over winter.

You read Misc. instead of writing your essay.