The computer hums pleasantly as I sit in my uncomfortable dormitory chair, gazing into the bright screen. I am confident, and absolutely sure that I can successfully start my essay. All I need is an idea. An idea that will captivate the reader and force them to read on with undivided attention. I had an idea about an hour ago, but it slipped away while I ate that wonderful dinner of cold noodles and reheated sirloin tips.

Time slips past, and I think about turning off the television and the stereo. I try this, but it leaves me in a lonely, lifeless room with even less inspiration than when I began. Suddenly I am in an inescapable prison with no way out. My words become desperate and and sullen. The total lack of stimulation begins to takes its toll on my state of mind. I need to get out of the room and talk to someone before I fall asleep.

I walk quickly down the hall into another wing of the dormitory, where I know motivation must await me. I hear noise coming from a room, and I enter it. There are three guys in the room watching a Steven Seagal movie and hooting wildly at it. Each of the guys sips on a beer. I greet them and take an open seat. They get drunk and start talking funny, and I find it incredibly entertaining. I knew a little social interaction would get my literary engine running again.

I again try to write a masterpiece on the old personal computer in the drinking room. I fend off their insistence that I watch a bar fight on the television, and listen to the ancient 386 computer with the broken fan slowly come to life. I bring up my tiny essay. My fingers flail at the keyboard, and I begin to get ideas. I successfully ignore the combined sound of the blaring movie and the screaming fan from within the PC. I'm a train, and it looks like I'll finish it after all.

Then the Buffalo Wings arrive along with two large pizzas. The odor diffusing through the room acts as some sort of distraction gas, and my thoughts are brought to an abrupt halt. The grinding broken fan begins to annoy me, and so does the movie. I take my hands off the keyboard and hungrily watch the Buffalo Wings disappear. The pizza takes even less time to finish, and I am left completely unplacated.

There are suddenly much more important things than the silly piece of writing I struggled with. I leave the room, and head to my room where I know food awaits me. Making a tasty sandwich of turkey and Monterey Jack cheese, I head back to the drinking room where the smell of expensive delivered food is pretty much gone. I take a huge bite out of the sandwich as I take my seat once more. I am hopeful that I have put this crisis past me.

I pound out a few more paragraphs, but I find them pretty dry and uninteresting. I am not quite desperate enough to leave them in the essay, and I erase them. Time wasted. I think until it almost hurts, and carefully construct two more paragraphs. Reading them over again, I am still unsatisfied and I erase them. More time wasted.

The Steven Seagal movie ends and everyone starts to pass out. I save my work on a floppy disk and leave the room. It's very late, and there are very few people still awake. My room is not a desirable place to be, but now it's the only place to be. I close the door and lock it, and sit down at my computer once again. Drowsiness begins to overtake me. Something needs to be done quickly before the siren song of my bed comfortable looking bed takes hold of me.

I turn my CD player up as loud as I can at this hour, and drink a bottle of Jolt cola. With all the lights turned on, I try to force myself to write. At this late a time, there is no room for mistakes. Nothing very interesting materializes after a couple minutes, and I feel utter despair. I decide to cool off with a few games of Tetris.

Tetris becomes boring, and I feeling this nagging desire to finish the essay once and for all. I turn off the stereo and the television. I take my seat calmly, and bring up my war torn essay. For no reason at all, I just think of things to write that are interesting and satisfying. My hands move quickly, and the ideas come faster than I can write them down.

Triumphantly, I key the last few paragraphs. Satisfaction flows through my body as I save it to disk and turn my computer off. Now I am completely ready for sleep, for the next day. I swing up into my loft, and fall asleep.