We love you at parties. We love you at the Keg. At a fraternity party and even in a boring discussion section. You make everything more fun.

But we want you to get the hell out of our library. Especially now, during midterms.

I am speaking on behalf of the Quiet People, those poor introverted souls who for some reason cannot study without some modicum of quiet.

We don’t want to be this way. Life would be easier if we could read “War and Peace” with a television blaring, or if we had the concentration to work out calculus problems in the middle of a crowded bar.

But, alas, we cannot.

Finding a quiet place to study has not been a problem for me since I moved off campus, but during the two years I lived in a residential college, some nights it was simply impossible to study.

I didn’t mind. Communications Residential College was full of wonderful people. People in dorms are supposed to be noisy and have a good time.

But when I had to study, I went to the library. I thought it was the logical place to go.

Some people disagree. They go to the library to talk, talk, talk, on their cell phones, to their friends, to themselves. Some even have rousing conversations with their books (don’t ask me why). Others go there to eat, to read the paper or sleep. And the library is a good place to sleep. Unless snoring ensues.

It’s the talking that has to stop.

My favorite are the groups of girls or guys (they are never mixed, always one gender or the other) who arrive en masse, open their textbooks, make a big show of getting themselves settled, with their notebooks, pens, pencils, loose-leaf, soda bottles, chips, candy. They talk for three hours and leave.

But who knows? Perhaps all that knowledge they came to the library to find diffused to their brains through their open mouths.

Even better are the couples. Not the long-established, might-as-well-be-married couples. They are usually quiet.

I’m talking about the couples who make it obvious through their painful attempts at flirtation that one half of the couple considers the meeting a “study date,” while the other considers it studying.

I’d just like to go tell the girl: “Hey, that guy wants you. Bad. So either tell him you aren’t interested, or go make out up in the stacks. But please, don’t make me watch this pitiful charade anymore!”

It’s not just students. Once I overheard a professor answer her cell phone four times. She didn’t leave to take her calls; she sat and chatted for a solid twenty minutes. At the top of her lungs.

“Honey, just put the meatloaf in the oven and turn it to 350, I’ll be home soon … Do you have a lot of homework? … I know, I’m sorry, but I got caught up in my research …”

Well, I did my research, and I found that I hope that meatloaf gets burnt. Talk about that on your cell phone.

You would think that all the talkers would simply head to the new Plaza Cafe, where the atmosphere is more conducive to socialization.

But, alas, the party rages on Monday night in Core Collection.