There is a reason that coffeehouses thrive, papers are completed and the human lifespan is voluntarily shortened: due dates. Not just any due dates, but the type that require an entire night’s worth of sleepless, driven work.
Before haughty eyebrows can rise a la skeptical Scully of the long deceased “X-Files,” I should mention that when this topic came up in past conversations, my roommate had an interesting point to make:
“I most certainly never missed a night’s sleep over work,” she told me. “I don’t see how, with all those due dates printed on the syllabus and all. I mean, you’ve had weeks. What’s your excuse?”
Plenty. The first being, of course, that I’m a big, fat procrastinator. But, at the moment, that’s beside the point. In essence, I’ve found that there are people who choose their own schedules, and those who let their schedules choose them. While she’s been able to manhandle classes and work into a rigid grid, I’ve had far less luck, which, surprisingly, doesn’t revolve entirely around my curious neglect of syllabi.
However, this isn’t a dime-a-dozen article on resolving your scheduling differences. We’ll skip ahead of the would-be counseling, which can be pretty costly, judging from what I’ve learned about behavior modification. Did you know therapists heal procrastination by taking your things and never giving them back? Week after week, but only if you don’t change, that is. You pay them to act like an elementary school teacher — step out of line, and mister, that fun-filled, shiny iPod is going into the drawer hoard ‘til the day this school is bulldozed. Maybe the repo guys are helping people heal, too, you know, from property problems. And, I’m getting sidetracked.
The cure to all academic woes can be found working that midnight oil. It’s not healthy — in fact, you may pass out during your midterm from sheer exhaustion — but it gets the job done. I’m all for being robust and whatnot, but I’m also a fan of not staring at a Scantron and filling in bubbles to make interesting patterns. Follow me on my quest as I go about this the right way, and perhaps learn a little more about the adopted home we all call UCSD.
First of all, I suggest that the enterprising studier stock up on coffee and snacks when possible. On campus, Plaza on the Side is open until midnight, and Oceanview Terrace and Earl’s Place are open until 1 a.m., so please, please take advantage of your meal points and get your consumer goods here and now. I’m not saying you should become a raving, overhyped caffeine addict — yet. But it’s good to have such things on reserve. In fact, it is my opinion that you should delay on the coffee because I can vouch that starting too soon (or ever) on that sugared bliss without sleep will burn you out far quicker than necessary. Caffeine and sugar burnout are painful things come morning, with the headaches, aching tiredness and light sensitivity, so I’d avoid coffee unless your work is heartless, banal drudgery and leads to missing-time syndrome. However, if push comes to shove, don’t be a wimp and do what you need to do. Also, remember to have a pair of sunglasses on you. You’ll see why in about eight hours.
Secondly, the UCSD libraries close ridiculously early. Outside of finals week, all libraries on campus lock their doors no later than 1 a.m. The outrage! Why, in Korea, libraries are not only open 24 hours, but they provide beds and showers, too … nothing like a 24/7 brain powwow commune to get the creative juices flowing. However, back in the States, I’m only halfway through my paper/lecture notes/book, and I’ve already been kicked out of a studious environment. What’s left for me to do? Turn tail and run back to my apartment, where the slightest tap of a keyboard brings the wrath of roommates down upon my head? The place where a bed stands alluringly in the darkened corner of my room, beckoning me to turn off the puny lamp and just go to sleep? I think not.
Then, there’s Sun God Lounge. Yay! A roomful of strangers will keep the survival instincts up and running and stop that pesky urge to sleep. Open until 3 a.m., it’s small, cozy and well-lit. You can save up on your laptop battery here, because there’s a row of relatively shiny PCs with beautifully large screens and a badly re-cased row of much older Macintoshes on the opposite side. (Honestly, those things look like they were stuffed into shiny cardboard boxes with holes for the screen.) Perhaps the older, less impressive Macs only felt slow and limited because of some psychosomatic response to their looks? Nope, exactly the same.
While I never fail to find at least one person snoring there on the couch, it is still a relatively relaxing place to engross myself in studies (though really, the snoring can get loud), with the added bonus of a vending machine tucked away in a corner of the room. Several, actually. Here, I can break out actual cash for a Scantron if I’ve forgotten to purchase one for the test beforehand, or get some strawberry-flavored water. The drawback, of course, is the need for money, and if I want to keep more of it, exact change.
As all good things must come to an end, being kicked out of Sun God Lounge leaves one back in the pitilessly warm San Diego night air. You’re still on campus, and still in need of a finished product to hurl at the professor come morning. What’s this? A 24-hour lounge!
And so, trudging along for a few minutes will bring you to Earl Warren College’s 24-hour lounge. Once known as the Commuter Lounge, it is a small, little-used room located behind Earl’s Place with about three tables, a couch and a row of half a dozen Macs to its credit. Here, if privacy needs to be established, blinds can be closed (or else stalkers halfway down the cul-de-sac will see you), and you can kick back and relax a little and, perhaps, catch a quick power nap. I’m guessing there might be a security guy who will drop in on you once in a while, so don’t get too comfy. Also, I don’t know if the laser printer there works. If it does, I’ve never managed to make it happen in two long years. In any case, have a back-up plan for printed materials. I recommend a quick jaunt to Imprints in Price Center, which opens at the convenient preclass hour of 7 a.m.
If your goal is to pass a night on campus in full study mode, you’ve just received a walk-through and the morning sunrise has greeted you, perhaps personally for the first time in a long while. Hopefully, you’ve had no need to touch the caffeine stash and you’ve already completely consumed the food. A quicker cheat is being an uncaring jerk and typing away at home regardless of your apartment mates, who plot your death behind your back. Or, like me, you may have the code to one of the computer/biology/insert-department-name-here labs, and can come and go as you please at all times of the day. That’s nice. Or, as a third resort, you can waste gas and time by wandering through the off-campus resources.
In overview, this work in its entirety is for emergency use only. Rarely will the knowledge achieved during these cram sessions actually crystallize into real answers on a test or a coherent paper in class.
I’ve slept through a midterm and half a final because I’ve overabused the all-nighter, not to mention experienced a steady degradation of my grade over the course of a week spent as a 72-hour waking nightmare. You won’t remember much a few hours after the test. This is worthless for the upcoming final. That paper? Bah, no time for an edit so it’s probably a piece of adrenaline/caffeine-inspired junk. But, man! At least your grade will be a few points higher than it would’ve been as an airhead with absolutely nothing.
“Good night,” says my roommate as she snuggles into her comforter, looking content and smug as she drifts off to sleep. She can’t hear my internal screams of frustration as I attempt to finish whatever it is I’ve yet to start. And she has all the right in the world to feel superior at the moment.
