Investigation in the Library

I was in the library tonight because I had some reading to do and I can never seem to concentrate in my own bedroom. It was dull, dull stuff tonight- an article on literary theory, and a very badly-written one at that.

(Seriously. Typo-ridden and far too wordy with certain parts feeling so out of place that I was starting to wonder if the writer was desperate to reach a minimum page count. This passes for scholarly writing? I was offended by it. And it was, like, 35 Microsoft Word pages long. It took me more than two hours to read. Argh.)

The first floor in our library is classified as the "noisy" floor. There's a coffee shop that provides the sound of coffee grinders and blenders as background noise, while the students are permitted to talk and use cell phones. So I'm used to having a constant drone of noise while I study.

However, there's always the oddball noise. Like someone dropping their stuff, a funny ringtone, shouts of jubilation or despair-- stuff that distracts you for a moment before you move on with your life.

Tonight I was quite distracted by an oddball noise that wouldn't stop. Somebody was clicking their mouse almost constantly for the two hours I was there. Rapid-fire clicking. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclickclick.

Someone was playing a game, I assumed. But as the hours ticked by and the clicking didn't seem to cease, I grew more and more curious as to what type of game required such constant clicking. And at one point my article got so boring that I decided to get up and investigate.

I strolled nonchalantly out of my aisle of computers, pretending I was on my way to the printer or trash can while I was really zeroing in on the source of the clicking noise. It was coming from another aisle of computers a few aisles away from my own. I strolled over that way, walking past the aisles and looking out of the corner of my eye until I found the offender.

He looked up as I passed, but I kept on walking like I had better things to do than care about him and his infernal clicking. But the moment he returned to his game, I glanced back to see what was on his computer screen.

The guy was playing Starcraft.

I think I've played StarCraft fewer than ten times in my life, but I'm fairly sure you can play it without clicking constantly. I mean, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but the guy seemed a little overenthusiastic. I wondered why his little Terran forces didn't just throw their hands up and quit under the pressure of his constant nagging. I also wondered how the guy's pointer finger hadn't fallen off yet.

So, mystery solved, I sat down at my computer once more and returned to my boring-as-insert-your-favorite-expletive-here article. The clicking continued on into the night, but instead of being distracted by it, I merely rolled my eyes as each new salvo of clicks began. Good luck, little Terran dudes.