I'm sitting in the library on the third floor, which has traditionally been a meeting place for singles. Most of the computers have been moved to the basement, and all that is left are barren, wood-panel tables and the occasional student whose furrowed brow is buried in some book or computer screen. When I walked in to the room and its sterile light I saw one of my friends who works at the reading center. Her eyes were tired and dim, almost gray, and she was hunched over a computer screen. I made some comment about her needing a break and prescribed a break.
I'm sitting right now, and taking my own break. It's only been an hour that I've been slouched in this chair staring at my laptop and trying desperately to keep writing my assignments that are due. I'm burning out, and I don't want to do it anymore, so I do what I always do when I'm frustrated with work: I start taking everything out of my pockets. Maybe it's a comfort thing, I dunno, but I grab my brick of an iPod and two sticks of chap-stick (why did I need two?) and throw them into my backpack. I don't bother to zip it up because it doesn't matter-- they are deep in the pocket and won't fall out. I place my fat, canvas wallet on the table and sit again. It always feels funny sitting without my wallet in my back pocket. It's softer.
None of this helps, though. I've still got three hours of work to get done before I take my Spanish test tomorrow (early, because of my trip,) and I don't want to do it. I miss summer being a fun time, when you could play all day in the sun and the grass and maybe go to work at then drive around to the beach and just sit.
I miss time to just sit.