SOME miscalculating psychiatrists performed a series of tests in the 1960s to discover which hue of color relieved feelings of fear and anxiety. After the study found that students would feel "more comfortable" if their exam books were a soft, pale blue, universities and high schools began to buy the now infamous "blue books."

The psychological theory, however, failed for the simple reason that now all students equate those blue books with exams, and exams with frustration, anxiety and fear. Those ugly, lined, short pages loosely pressed together with weak staples in that putrid blue color remind us all of what we want to forget--exams.

Psychological appeasement just doesn't work. Any item or program meant to placate uneasiness will inevitably exacerbate it.

So, it isn't just blue books that get to me. It's innocent looking brick houses. I do not mean to offend those who work so hard there to make it a comfortable and practical utility on campus. I know that it's meant to soothe panic about our future.

It's just that, well, I hate OCS.

There, I said it. The Office of Career Services is supposed to help in your endless search for a summer job and career. Learn how to write a resume, have a practice interview, meet corporate investment bankers.

Do I care? Yes, and that's the problem. OCS reminds me of how disorganized I am. It makes me question my plans.

What will I do this summer? Where will I be? Who will I live with? What will I wear? Who will I marry? Will I want to keep my last name? When will I retire? Will I be rich, or famous, or both, or neither? What will I do with the rest of my life?

LODGED near a final club and the MAC, OCS is a simple brick house with a small, white sign leading unassuming students to a couple of hours of hell. The whole concept is a misnomer. Office? When I walk in there is a welcoming staff member who points towards the different rooms in the building.

Career? I'm only looking for summer employment, so don't think I'm going to take this seriously. At least not yet.

Services? I really don't want any services, I just wan't a job to come simply and painlessly. I'm giving myself a time limit, too--I'm out of here by 11 a.m.

I browse through possible food relief programs in Africa. Despite the fact that I'd have to pay half my tuition to experience the toils, to live on the edge, to test my limits of compassion and public service, I'd also need to write five essays proving "Why are relief programs in Africa necessary?"

If you haven't noticed yet, it gets hot in Africa and vital greenery tends to lack sufficient fertilizer. Is that the right answer?

By the library, I see a sign heralding "Many, many, many more opportunities are available." I'm not looking for more opportunities; I only need one. I pull out eight binders on Public Sector jobs, but half the deadlines are already passed.

Who are these people who start planning for their summer in December? Who has already sent resumes and letters of recommendation? These people really ruin things for the rest of us.