A Night at the Library

28 Dec 2017

Being halfway through my second year at the University of Waterloo, it may surprise some that I made my first trip to the school library only a mere two months ago in late October.

Shocking.

Now, the one thing I omitted from that sentence is that it was the first time I went to the library with the sole intent being to read. Sure, I had visited the library before, whether it had been for a group study session or to look for a resource for class, but I had never simply sat down and enjoyed the silence. And with this small addition, I’m willing to bet that I’m no longer as unique in saying: “I had never gone to the library”.

Before building on that thought, I’m going to interrupt myself to continue detailing the visit itself. The Dana Porter library at the University of Waterloo is by no means a marvel of modern architecture. DP (as members of the UW community call it) is a box of concrete brutalism. It is essentially a cube with thin slits for windows resting atop a rectangular bed of the same design. In short, DP is neither the elegant swirl of fine wood and class that one may find at the Douglas Library at Queen’s University nor an illumination of modern design such as the Bora Laskin Law Library at the University of Toronto.

It does have its own personality though. I ventured up to the third floor where the main reading room is located. This particular story is a world stuck in the 1980’s. Neutral cream coloured walls, wooden book carts whose surfaces may remind one of grade school desks, and quintessential faded yellow terrazzo flooring stretch every corner of DP’s third level. Personallly, my favourite decorations are the old weathered posters of students in classic “student poses” such as wearing ridiculously oversized bright sweaters with a textbook under the armpit or cheerleaders frozen in the air midjump with silly slogans. To put it romantically, the third floor is a world straight out of a classic Woody Allen picture.

And even though it was deathly silent in the main area where students were studying, upon entering the reading room itself, outside may have been a subway station at rush hour. The reading room is a fairly large rectangular box with carpeted flooring, comfy plush armchairs, and a wall of various magazines and specials.

I looked around a bit and picked up the Fall issue of the Lapham’s Quarterly. The subject for this edition was “Music” - perfect. Each issue of the Lapham Quarterly is 250ish pages of people ideas, thoughts, and perspectives a the given topic throughout history. The selection of essays can range from Aristotle’s famous words on music and life to an internet discussion from the EDM subreddit. I had a commitment to run to on this night so after reading a few selections from the Quarterly, I could only spare enough time to read through the October issue of the New Yorker before heading out. It was on my walk out of the library that I began thinking.

Although I thoroughly enjoyed my night at the library, it came with a cost, a startling realization that I had lost my way a little. I’ve always considered myself artistic by nature so it has always been habit for me to take time to exercise my more creative pursuits and to enjoy art as a receiver. There’s something about art that has always stood out to me amongst all other pursuits - something about the finality of it all and the life that it takes on as it goes from idea to existence is enticing to me. When a writer writes or a composer composes, their ideas have concretely been captured and solidified. It can be argued that a goal of all art is to preserve a moment or feeling in a way that simply nothing else can. In that regard, art is perhaps the most natural human goal of all.

Although I love studying math and computer science, I feel that especially as a tech major, amidst the heavy storm of assignments and tests that at times can seem never ending, it is not hard to lose a part of oneself between the day to day. It’s shockingly too easy to ignore the very humanity of the lives we lead.

My night at the library reminded me of a part of myself that I had forgotten for too long, the part of myself that seeks meaning in my life and asks questions. I look forward to future nights at the library in the upcoming semester. It is this self discovery that turned what on paper seems like a rather mundane night into one of the most memorable days of my fall semester.