Every individual letter echoes in the vast emptiness of my overloaded brain. Constantly shifting positions in a futile search for a level of comfort that will overshadow my boredom, a powerful thought clouds my consciousness. How many pages do I have left to go?
Although the courses offered by our university vary significantly in subject matter, one common theme seems to run through every class. Regardless of department, every professor seems incredibly insistent on assigning excessive amounts of readings so exhilarating that they produce the same effect as an entire bottle of NyQuil.
Unfortunately, the sheer tediousness of the material is not the only obstacle to the completion of course readings. Any time I attempt to study, I am forced to deal with the loud antics of my housemates.
Imagine the difficulty in trying to comprehend a complicated subject such as molecular genetics while my sense of hearing is overwhelmed by a stereo blaring Nelly, a member of the new generation of triple-platinum performers with all the musical talent of a drunken rhesus monkey banging on a frying pan. Come to think of it, a room full of shrieking monkeys would actually be a slightly more productive place to study than my apartment, as certain types of apes are both quieter than my roommates and emit a slightly less offensive smell.
In addition to the interruptions that bombard me from all directions, any attempt at reading is also met with a series of internal disruptions. Oftentimes, my mind will wander to various distracting subjects. Subjects such as the consolidation of the Italian nation-state can quickly be eclipsed by fantasies about the blonde girl in my Spanish class, most of which involve a romantic evening out followed by a night of wild conjugation.
Furthermore, I often encounter delays when I attempt to spice up my reading by pronouncing words aloud and in a variety of accents in an attempt to salvage some sort of entertainment value from a dull book. If you find yourself fed up with your chemistry text, try reading it with a barely-intelligible southern accent. Using this technique, even words like 'ethylendiamine' will suddenly seem incredibly exciting, but you might find yourself spending more time giggling than actually reading.
While my innovative accent technique adds a whole new level of enjoyment to monotonous reading, I have also heard about methods of speed reading in which the pronunciation of individual words never crosses the threshold of the reader's mind, a concept I find quite difficult to grasp. In order for me to deduce any sort of useful information from a written document, I need to mouth the words with my lips and sometimes even draw stick-figure diagrams.
I have seen advertisements for speed-reading classes on many different occasions, and the prospect of gaining a boost in my reading ability has always appealed to me. Unfortunately, by the time I finish reading a flyer, several months have usually passed and the speed-reading class is ancient history.
Just like the mass consumption of beer, reading complex textbooks is an inseparable part of college life. In fact, an even deeper connection exists between the two activities, as the information from boring books seems to leave the brain at the exact same rate as intoxicants leave the body. Unfortunately, complicated reading will remain a central aspect of education since there is no other way to duplicate its benefits. The only thing that can come close is an entire bottle of NyQuil.
