"Fuck!"
I slammed my fist on the desk, rattling my computer screen. My half-empty coffee mug jerked dangerously close to the edge. The Lego man on the shelf above the desk toppled face-first on his perch. I stared angrily at the screen, at the word doc that lay open at the latest chapter of my master's thesis. It had been blank for the past hour. If one counted the days since I had named and numbered the chapter however, it had been sitting blank for at least a week. I was stuck.
I am not the most organised person when it comes to conducting academic research, but I usually have a broad structure in place for my theses. I do go down rabbit holes of literature often, but eventually my thoughts converge and the final week before a submission deadline is a frenzy of inspired, focused writing. For this paper, it was the final week the week before. I had managed to secure an extension of the deadline from my unit coordinator but I wasn't going to get another grace period. Today was Thursday, or at least it would for the next half hour before the clock ticked over to Friday. I needed to hand in my manuscript by Sunday. So far, I only had written two chapters out of the proposed four. I needed help. Professional help.
I didn't get much sleep that night. I'd keep waking up every hour, dreaming of something chasing me. When daylight streamed through my windows I got up, brushed my teeth, packed my laptop and notepad in my bag and set off for the university library. I got there at ten minutes past opening time. The bleary-eyed receptionist regarded me with a mix of amusement and boredom as I explained my need to consult with a research advisor. No, I hadn't made any bookings. No, I couldn't wait till next week. Yes, I'd like to be added to the waiting list to see if a booking becomes available.
I camped out in front of the reception desk, plugging my computer into the wall outlet and absent-mindedly sifting through my notes. The hours ticked by. Other students trickled into the building and soon the library's common area was filled with a low din of whispers and clacking keyboards. 9 AM became 10, 10 rolled over to 11. As we approached noon, my anxiety rose to a fever pitch. I'd glance every five minutes at the receptionist, hearing his phantom voice calling my name. But he hadn't. His face looked as bored as ever as he worked on god knows what on his terminal. I gave up. I wasn't getting any work done here. Might as well head to the student lounge to see if I could find any classmates. Classmates who had already handed in their theses and would now be chilling, going out, going home.
I swore under my breath as I packed my things into my bag for the second time that morning. I rose and headed towards the glass sliding doors, glancing at the receptionist. He had been looking at me. I shrugged at him. His eyes turned to his screen. I sighed and kept walking. Just as I stepped through the threshold, the receptionist called me up. Eyebrows perked, I walked over. He began by apologising and telling me that no slots had become free and they didn't look like they would. He continued by saying that while research advisors associated with my department weren't available, he could set up an appointment that afternoon with a general advisor. He cautioned me that general research advisors couldn't help with specifics of subject matters, rather assisting with the overall structure and cohesiveness of the thesis.
I pondered it over. While I would've preferred someone who'd actually understand what I was talking about, maybe an outsider's perspective would really be best. If I couldn't communicate the topics of my thesis to someone not versed in the subject, then I probably didn't have the best grasp on the topics myself. Perhaps that's where the problem lay. Also, something was better than nothing.
I nodded and accepted the appointment. The receptionist made the booking for 2 PM and told me which meeting room I'd be seeing the advisor in. I thanked him and headed out. I checked my watch. I still had an hour to go before the appointment. My stomach chose that very moment to remind me rather loudly that I hadn't had a bite to eat since last night. I grabbed a vegetable smoothie from the juice store on campus and found a quiet corner to sit and go through my notes. The scheduling of the appointment hadn't exactly lowered my stress levels, and I found I couldn't concentrate. My writing seemed alien to me. The points I'd jotted down over the past weeks seemed disorderly and some initial conclusions felt like a bit of a reach. In less than half an hour I was sipping the dregs of my smoothie and doubting my whole thesis methodology. I wasn't sitting in the sun, yet I was sweating. I realised I wasn't getting anything done, and that perhaps being back in the library would do me good.
I went back into the low, whisper-quiet din of the general seating area in the library. The meeting rooms were on the third floor. Looking up at the glass-walled corner room -- the one booked for my appointment -- I saw that it was unoccupied. I looked at my watch. Fifteen minutes till the meeting. I decided to head in and make myself comfortable. Maybe I'd be able to make sense of my notes as well. I went up the stairs and used the tablet outside the room to check in. That unlocked the door. I went in and set up my things on the table. Being a corner room, it was bound on three sides by glass walls, which sported a wide horizontal frosted section in the middle to afford the occupants of the room some privacy. Leaving the door slightly ajar, I seated myself in a swivel chair facing away from the door and pored over my notes again.
Forced myself to go through them, actually. Just looking at my own scribbles filled me with dread about the upcoming submission. Even if the advisor was somehow miraculously able to point me in the right direction, I still had at least five thousand words to write in the final two chapters. Anything less and I wouldn't be doing justice to the whole last year I had spent collecting, summarising and making inferences from the data. There wasn't nearly enough time to do that though, not if I wanted to edit, caption and insert appendices. My head started to swim with all the work I'd in front of me. As I sat hunched over my laptop, a pair of hands slid across my back and came to rest at the base of my skull. I jerked upright in my chair.
"You look like you need to ease up."
I turned around to see Dini leaning over me, a coy smile playing across her face. I exhaled audibly. Dini was the Sri Lankan library assistant I had hooked up with a couple of months ago. What had started out as an intrusion on my study time had turned into a hot and heavy evening in the Special Collections section of the library. And after unintentionally locking ourselves in, it had turned into a rather restless night. Since then we hadn't seen each other a lot. I'd gotten busy with classes and boxing training, and she had taken to working more hours at the library. Occasionally I'd see her manning the helpdesk in the lobby, and we'd smile and wave at each other as I passed by.
"Jeez Dini, you scared the shit out of me."
"Oh I'm sorry." She replied, her hands stroking the back of my neck. "I thought I was gentle."
"No, no... you were gentle. I'm just too strung up right now."
"I can see that." Dini moved her hands lower, rubbing my upper back. Her fingers worked outwards from the spine to scapulae, up to the backs and tops of my shoulders, before coming in over the back of my neck to the trapezoids. "Just relax, and breathe easy."
I nodded and took a couple of deep breaths. Dini had skilful hands, and over the next couple of minutes she slowly massaged some of my immediate anxieties away. I relaxed and leaned back. Neither of us spoke a word. The air was punctuated by just the sound of our breaths and that of her hands sliding across my skin and the back of my shirt. I hadn't forgotten about the time, however. I kept glancing at my wristwatch. I also made sure she knew how much I appreciated this.
"Thanks Dini, I needed this." I whispered to her.
"Mmm, my pleasure."
Now it was less than five minutes from my appointment. From the corner of my eye I saw that she had closed the door to the meeting room behind her. I rose from my chair and walked up to it, opening it again.
"Sorry Dini, I have an appointment in a few. I really appreciate the massage, but I need the meeting room."
"I know you have an appointment, silly." She replied, grinning ear to ear. "It's with me!"
Dini laughed at the look of confusion on my face.
"
You're
the general research advisor?"
"One of them, yes. I only started last month."
"I see..." I looked away from her, pondering it over.
"Don't believe me?"
"
No no,
it's not that." I blurted out. "I just... I guess it' nice to see a familiar face." I smiled at her. She beamed back.
"Good! Shall we begin?"
