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California Library Adventures
 Over the past Spring Break, I found myself in Los Angeles, some would say the heart of Southern California. It wasn’t until I was amidst all these people who looked like they had to be somewhere extremely urgent ten minutes ago that I realized how truly different Northern and Southern California really were.
Putting the “grip of” and the “hellas” aside, there was one glaring difference in speech that I picked up on while I was down there. And that is the way that people refer to freeways. Being born and raised in Northern California,I was always taught to refer to the freeways as “Take 280” or “Take I-5.” Now, when I asked one of my friends from Los Angeles for instructions on how to get to “I-5,” for some reason or other he looked at me with the most confused face I had ever seen, as if I had just asked for his first-born child or something.“Whoa, man. I can show you how get to the 5…if that’s what you’re asking.” To which I eloquently responded, “Uh….What?” Why oh why would anyone ever refer to a freeway with such formality? I cannot possibly foresee a situation where you would have to clarify which “5” you were talking about. Hell, I think it’s about time we start a new trend. Maybe one that the Central Valley could pick up on, instead of using words like “the 5” or “I-5,” I think we should start just throwing random articles before the freeway title. “Oh, you’re lost? Take a 5 south.” Honestly, I think this could spread faster than the “dang” epidemic of ‘92. But I actually asked my friend why it is that he referred to them this way to which he responded rather defensively, as if I had once again tried to steal his firstborn child or something, “Well… well they’re my freeways! They make me late and they take my time. They’re very personal to me.” Well I suppose that if LA freeways drained your being, and if you spent half of your waking life on them trailing behind some idiot who had his left turn blinker on for the past two miles, then yes, I could see how they would be very personal to you. Oh, us crazy Californians with our backwards way of thinking. Speaking of things that are terribly confusing and backwards, there has always been something at this school that has bothered me ever since I came here as a freshmen. And that, my friends, are those godforsaken doors at the library. How many of you have ever tried to leave or enter from the wrong side? I don’t think I would be too far off if I said those are probably the only set of doors in America where the IN is on the left side and the OUT is on the right side. And what about those little metal guard rail poles that you have to pass before you even get inside the library? What the hell kind of purpose do those serve? They look like some sort of holding station, or something you would find at a community pool or amusement park to keep kids from running around. Imagine if the librarian treated the library like a pool, “Hey you kids, slow down! No running! You can’t come in if you’ve eaten in the past 30 minutes.” Maybe it’s reverse psychology. Maybe someone is trying to trick your brain into thinking that going to the library is like being somewhere fun like at Disneyland. Although I doubt anyone is getting fast passes for this ride.
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Lifestyles 
