Wednesday, December 09, 2009

The Essay That Wrote Itself
Dan settled himself into the Carleton University library. He sighed as
he took off his scarf and settled himself into a cube desk. He pulled out
his first generation iPod and turned off Beirut that had been playing
on a loop for the entire bus ride over. The cube desks were mostly
deserted and Dan had to take his glasses off and set them down on the
lectern as they were fogged from the changing temperatures. The first
snowfall had hit the nation's capital with a vengeance.

Dan finally sat down, after removing his damp layers, and looked
around. He was on the 5th floor near the periodicals - a deserted spot
in the library with only a few desks that barely anyone knew about.
Dan had grown familiar to the soothing hum of the flourescent lights
above. The carpet was a deep 1970's royal purple with a gray-ish
border. Sometimes Dan would look down the aisles of periodicals
and remember scenes from Ghostbusters with the elderly librarian
lady.

On this particular day, though - Dan had a mission. He was setting
out to write the final paper of his university career. It was to be
titled 'The Philosophy Of Music - A Jungian Pursuit of Rhythmic
Law'. He was pretty proud of the title and even many profs in the
Carleton music department has heard about it and were intrigued.
Even Dan's friends and family were excited about the mysticism
surrounding this paper and would hint at him for details - but Dan
humbly smiled and stayed silent. The whole music department
of Carleton had received grants on the strength of Dan's essay
title and re-distributed some of the funds to Dan, himself. In
his music classes, it had become a bit of a corral as fellow students
seemed to be raising their hands - not to ask the profs questions -
but to ask Dan about his essay.

Yes sir - there was a buzz about campus on this wintery day.

The truth, though, was that the essay was merely a title. The paper
was due in 24 hours...and Dan had not even written a lick of one
phrase. Dan sighed and stared at his mac laptop, holding his head
in his hands.

(to be continued).

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