Tuesday, 10:30 pm

A public service announcement to readers: On no floor of the SciLi are the classrooms soundproof. I am next door, and I hear everything.

And it gets worse: Hey fifth floor: down here in the Quiet Center we know all about the calamities you faced today in housing lottery. We may wonder what would happen if walls could talk, but one thing's for sure — the vents do.

Guest Thoughts From The Frisc

By Ian Ratner

As a foreign exchange student, I bring to TFTF a whole new perspective. After all, as an outsider, I have nothing to gain or lose from providing a painfully honest opinion about the Frisc. It's not like one of my closest friends blogs about this thing every day. Like I said, nothing to lose.

When entering the Frisc, I am first confronted with a typical academic lobby, complete with stark decor, a kitchen-like snack store (a liberal food outlet for a liberal arts education), and some seating areas. But who cares about this because there is also a security check point. Yes! Guards put on duty specifically to keep people like me out! Fortunately, Emmy has already outfitted me with my own false identification, so I was able to breeze through. Well, I wasn't able to swipe Jessica's I.D. through the first time, but that's mostly because anything that resembles a metro card swipe stresses me out.

Next, Emmy whisks me into a metallic elevator after nearly walking into one of the other elevator's fast-moving doors. THOUGHT #1: If Hermione Granger is to Brown Student, then Frisc Elevators is to Death Eaters. The elevator eventually rises to the 14th floor or something, also known as the highest point in Providence. THOUGHT #2: I imagine the highest student in Providence smokes a joint, and then sits cross-legged on the 14th floor of the Frisc.

After disturbing some of the highest students in Providence, we make our way down to what's called the "Quiet Floor." No, not because the floor absorbs all sounds, and is thus a "quiet" floor, but because you literally are not allowed to speak on this floor. This also means you cannot accidentally have your "Bad Romance" ringtone go off, which is ostensibly tolerated on other floors. Cough, cough.

So after disturbing some of the "Quiet Floor" patrons, we head to Emmy's lair: the basement! On the way there, the elevator door smacks some young gentleman in the face. THOUGHT #3: SRSLY, these elevators will EAT you. We, however, make it to the basement unscathed.

The basement is a sassy mixture of 70s disco decor, lawn chairs, space-age disco decor, girls sitting provocatively, Mac products, snoring students, and more. It goes without saying, but this place is heavenly. While here, we tried out all sorts of study nooks, including the aforementioned lawn chairs, and then a sexy group study room that was really meant for groups of three or more students. THOUGHT #4: Charlie Sheen would totally hog one of these study rooms to himself.

But thoughts #1-4 are really my way of dancing around the main issue: Can I do work in the Frisc? Yes! Yes I can! During the one or two hours I spent in the Frisc, I was able to be pretty damn productive! And that's acknowledging the fact that Emmy and I had to switch locations because the lawn chairs were literally located on the sun. To the Frisc, its patrons, its sassy decor, and the random white guy after whom it was named, way to go! A+

Saturday, 3:45 pm

The removal of the scary elevator signs can mean only one thing: the asbestos has been removed from the 14th floor! Shot not going to check it out...

Wednesday, 4:29 pm

Well, that's worrisome.

Sunday, 21:36

There are so many people in the SciLi right now. Brown_EZ is SO overloaded that I am forced to view Gmail in "Basic HTML view." Unexpected boon for my productivity, or extremely frustrating reminder of what $50k/year doesn't buy me?

Sunday, 4:15 pm

When a hard working science student, bleary-eyed from reading countless journal articles that have been out of date for the past 40 years, finally finds that one article that is tangentially related to some small point in his grant application, it's a pretty big moment. After having been on the 9th floor for 7 continuous hours and now descending to our favorite 24-hour study center, looking for a reprieve from the repressive silence (science?) of the stacks, this intrepid science student was met with a complete and total photocopier meltdown. On the scale of Chernobyl, terror was felt throughout the Frisc as this frantic student went from one machine to the next attempting to photocopy this now irrelevant article. 1 yellow busted sign, 1 partial, but significant lack of toner and 2 paper jams later, this science student all but admitted defeat in the face of the technological powers of the Frisc "Could I just check the book out?", the now severely depressed science student asks. "No", says the clearly overwhelmed student worker, about 5 minutes away from the end of his shift, "it's a periodical, building only".

Well then, all this poor science student needed to do was photocopy 10 pages of a stupid article from 1967 and then he could go have his first meal since the bacon, egg, and cheese bagel, from what now seems like an age ago. Clearly sensing the desperation in this sad student's voice, the student worker heads back to get one of the more technologically savvy luddites workers, who, clearly frustrated from being called during their break, opens a few doors and somehow manages to instantly fix a previously insurmountable paper jam. At least we can say one thing about the Frisc, those binder-midner things certainly do make photocopying enjoyable.

— Ethan Mack, Guest Columnist

Monday, 00:17

Just so we're clear:
13th floor ≠ collaborative study space.

Monday, 21:11

It's freezing in the stacks today. Must get some tea to warm up. Simple enough, right?

WRONG.

At 8:42pm, I hit the elevator down button from the 13th floor. Dealbreaker #1: I am literally standing and waiting for the elevator until its arrival at 8:47pm. SERIOUSLY?!

5 minutes for the elevator. Isn't this exactly why there are THREE?! (And yes, there are three working right now, the PSA is no longer in effect). That's at least 100 words of my fieldnotes transcription for Ethnomusicology or a couple of flashcards for my upcoming midterms. But no, the SciLi Gods would rather have me spend that time staring at my feet and listening to elevators go up down up down, teasing me with every floor-arrival ding that echoes through their shafts.

Once I acquire my tea, I am once again back in the elevator headed for 13. Dealbreaker #2: Two girls are already on from the basement level headed for the mezz (why aren't you walking?). Dealbreaker #3: A hipster boy, fresh from his smoke break (no but really), gets on at the last second and presses 8. He then proceeds to squeeze past the girls and lean against the back wall of the elevator directly next me. Indeed, space is at such a premium that he is TOUCHING ME. Dealbreaker #4: Upon our arrival at floor 8, he is so impatient to get off the elevator that he tries to open the admittedly slow-opening elevator doors with his hand.

Saturday, 2:16 p.m.

Perhaps the reason the 13th floor is empty right now is because it's a sweltering 72 degrees up here. No exaggeration. Short-pants and t-shirts are a requirement to work.



Epiphany: Our tuition money supports the SciLi's heating bill.