I was studying at the library yesterday when a delightful young man asked if he could sit at my table. Not feeling particularly threatened, I said yes.

He sat down and unpacked his backpack, carefully laying its contents on the table: a pen, a highlighter, a notebook and some gum. Pretty standard.

Then he pulled out a walkman, pushed play and transformed into everyone’s favorite study partner: the Considerate Trance DJ.

“NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS. NNNN-TSSSS.”

… I asked him to turn it down …

“Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss. Nnnn-tssss…”

I soon noticed that the entire west wing of the fourth floor was was giving me dirty looks, thinking I had befriended the Considerate Trance DJ.

I wanted to cry, but I just left instead.

Thursday’s forecast: Looped stress patterns.