I have a confession to make. I live in a hammock on the fifth floor of the Davidson Library. That’s right, I live in a hammock in a crawlspace on the fifth floor of the Davidson Library. It can get a bit cramped in there, but I don’t mind. The rent’s cheap. Besides, the library does sort of look like a hotel from the outside if you squint and cover your left eye. It may not be paradise, but I’m pretty happy to call the place home. You probably don’t understand this. That’s because you don’t know the library like I know the library.

The Davidson Library is a gateway to the world of information. Want to learn about glory holes? Read a book. Still not satisfied? Use one of the library’s computers to perform a Google search. Still don’t get it? Come to the sixth floor men’s bathroom at 9 p.m. sharp. Knock on the occupied stall and ask for Sucio Grueso Queso. He’ll help you out.

Maybe discrete adult encounters aren’t your bag. That’s okay. The library has a lot of other things to offer. You can take an elevator up to the eighth floor, where you can then view a lifelike diorama of our lovely campus. I’ve even heard that Michael Keaton will emerge from this diorama if you stand real close and say “Beetlejuice” three times fast. Give it a try sometime.

You should also try perusing the fourth floor. The fourth floor is the social floor. This is where students go to quietly study among large numbers of their quietly studying peers. My theory is that these people have chosen to study in a relatively crowded area because they’re lonely. I think they like experiencing the vicarious social interactions that inevitably occur when they’re in close proximity with dozens of other people. This is what I think. Maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know, but the fourth floor sure seems busy.

The social floor is quite a departure from the sixth and seventh floors, which are collectively referred to as “the recluse floors” by most Davidson Library enthusiasts. These floors are always empty except for that one guy tucked behind the desk in the far rear corner of the main book room. He’s not there for vicarious social interaction. He’s there to study. Get the hell away from him, because he really hates hearing your loud footsteps as you scour the stacks in search of books about Vasco de Gamma.

Grumpy, study-hungry recluses are an inextricable part of the library experience, but you shouldn’t let them get you down. There’s still plenty of fun to be had. One of my favorite library pastimes is reading the graffiti that’s tattooed onto the various desks and cubicles. These crude carvings contain some truly peerless pearls of wisdom.

“Jewish girls love the cock.” “I want to fuck me some freshman girls!!!” “Wouldn’t it be great if all the fags were killed by another Hitler?!” I don’t condone the preceding statements, but I did manage find them scrawled into various pieces of library furniture. It seems that UCSB’s desk scribes have been busy engaging in heated academic discourse. Most of their desk discussions deal with topics ranging from racism to sex to genocide to sex to frat boys and then back to sex. These etchings provide a fairly sobering look into the mind of the average UCSB vandal, but they can actually be pretty entertaining if you don’t take them too seriously. They’re really just another fun feature of our book-infested library.

We’re lucky to have such a great place to read, learn and study. Forget our overpaid professors and their Nobel Prizes. The Davidson Library is the real crown jewel in UCSB’s educational empire. Although it may look daunting, the library is a welcoming place with bounteous resources that eagerly await your prying eyes and ears. Feel free to explore the books, periodicals, perverse graffiti, historical documents and electronic reserves. Take full advantage of the library, but please keep quiet when you’re on the fifth floor. I’m trying to sleep.