Sent from a friend at Monday, 9:42 p.m.

My friends complain that the Frisc's noise levels make work prohibitive. Others bemoan the lack of computers. Maybe the horrific lighting.

I, too, am constantly frustrated by study sessions in the Frisc. I never seem to get ANYTHING done. I don't care if you and your friend want to roll on the floor laughing. Go ahead, answer your phone. I don't give a fuck.

But if you and I have ever been romantically involved, can you PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY - FIND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO STUDY?

Every goddamn time I'm here, there's some awkward run-in.

It's the guy I hooked up with last night, I've been wondering if he was going to call but it's too soon after the hookup to know for sure. Here we are, awkwardly conversing by the stairs about the paper he has due tomorrow for some obscure AmCiv seminar. Awkward awkward awkward.

It's the guy who I'm hooking up with but didn't really feel like seeing tonight, now he wants to know what I'm working on and when I'm going to be leaving. As if.

It's my ex, who I used to run into here all the time when we were a thing. Guess I should've thought to negotiate who gets Frisc-rights post-breakup.

I'm here, and I'm consumed with who the fuck I'm going to run into this time. Who of my portfolio of awkward relationships is going to appear out of nowhere while I'm struggling to staple that zillion-page article?

The worst part? I'm here to STUDY. I look like complete and total shit. If you want to run into me at a frat party, fine. I'm prepared. Sluttified. Made up. No dark circles.

The thing about Frisc collisions is that you can never anticipate them. Or prepare yourself. They will find you after you just messed up your hair in academic frustration. After you rubbed your eyes, smudging mascara across your undereye. You're bloodshot. Broken out. Washed out under the fluorescents.

So why don't I just give up coming here, you ask? I'm a sadist. As I write, I'm surreptiously sneaking glances at a boy I made out with last Halloween. FML