Diary of a Gen Z Student: If you’re going to distract me at exam time, at least make it interesting
Privilege Had Barry About Her I Disastrous Last Cronin Talk Hearing Tinder Date Picture: Someone Week, Of The
It’s that glorious time of year: Christmas lights warming up the city, buskers filling the streets with renditions of ‘Last Christmas’, wine being mulled. But it’s that other time of year too. Where I’m walking past the buskers on my way to the college library, walking around the library for half an hour looking for an open desk.
My hands seizing up while I try to write an essay because the heating hasn’t been turned on since the Celtic Tiger. Exam season in college is stressful. You’ve got deadlines piling up, essays to write, exams to sit. Staring at your laptop for twelve hours at a time. Convincing yourself you don’t have time to sleep or drink water. No one can do it for you.
Tired, dehydrated, overwhelmed, my patience tends to run a little thin this time of year. The workload is tough enough. Then I find myself sitting beside people who apparently have the time to spend their library session chatting. Not only am I jealous of the time these people seem to have on their hands, I’m also ready to escort them to the exit.
Because I can only listen to a dull conversation for so long. I’ve got things to do. And if your conversation is happening while I’m trying to write an essay, I can’t guarantee I won’t end up accidentally transcribing your life story into my poetry essay. The point is, you better talk about something worth listening to.
I won’t lie, in some ways, I appreciate the entertainment. Maybe I have low morals, but if you’re having a juicy conversation beside me in the library, I’m absolutely going to tune in. I’ll be taking notes. If you’re fighting with your boyfriend, I’m picking a side. Your boyfriend was texting who? Drinking mulled wine when?
Lying about his phone dying when he was really where? And being a girl, my biases will always prevail. You’re too good for him. He didn’t deserve you. He should have been grateful to breathe the same air as you.
Last week, I even had the privilege of hearing someone talk about her disastrous Tinder date. These are the highlights. He was shorter than his profile had said (they always are). He wore ripped skinny jeans (red flag).
He was running late (probably can’t read a clock). He complained that the bartender had made his cocktail look too girly (If you're insecure in your masculinity, you can just say that).
He brought up his ‘crazy’ ex-girlfriend (he cheated and thought she overreacted when she found out). Then he made a joke about not knowing how to use a washing machine (his mother still brushes his teeth). And He had the audacity to ghost HER!
Then there’s the fact that it’s the end of semester and everyone has gotten sick of their flatmates. Today, I listened to a boy recount his stolen groceries, the dishes that are never cleaned, the bin that hasn’t been taken out since Halloween, the flatmate that won’t clean the counters because they want to build up their immune system.
Living with heathens for €1,200 per month. It really put my own complaining about living at home during college into perspective.
Maybe I’m missing out on the full college experience, but if that experience includes eating Cocoa Pops beside a bin that’s been overflowing for six weeks, maybe I should be grateful.
I do have to draw the line somewhere, though. When it’s 11pm and I’m sweating over an essay that’s due the following morning, I have no time for idle chat. I listened to a girl talk about her life changing new handbag. She had gotten it for an absolute bargain in a Black Friday sale. I was happy for her great fortune.
I mean, she really did seem delighted with the whole thing. But twenty minutes of handbag chat? I was liable to whack her with the bloody bag after that. Not forgetting that when I was proofreading my essay, the phrase ‘40% off’ had managed to wangle it’s way into my conclusion, somehow.
Look, I get it. Sometimes you need a break from the study. We’ve all had the odd conversation in the library. But you’ve got to be mindful of your neighbours. If you’re going to distract everyone around you, at least give them something good to listen to. I want first and last names, incriminating details, character descriptions.
Give me a hamartia, some plot development. Give me some consolation for the fact that I should be traipsing through 12 pubs in a Christmas jumper, not wasting my youth in a bitterly cold library.