I will be the first to admit it - I am an overachiever. Every night, I write myself a long to-do list of the things that I absolutely have to accomplish the next day, and no matter how exhausted, I don't stop until every last item is checked off. And as much as I realize that this behavior is ridiculous and pushes the line of obsessive compulsive disorder, that's just the way I am.
As you can imagine, this also means that every day, I'm stressed out, tense and flustered. Ask any of my friends - they'll probably tell you that they tell me to calm down ad nauseum. Through the progression of this first semester of my sophomore year, my stress level has steadily increased. I realized that I could no longer use the "I'm a freshman and I just got here" card, but at the same time, I couldn't play the "I'm a senior and I frankly don't care anymore" card, either. When I turned my declaration of major form into Dowling, I almost felt as though there was no turning back.
Suddenly I was starting to make important decisions - study abroad applications amassed on my desk and my parents were starting to question me about my plans after Tufts. Add this to classes and the other things that I'd over-committed myself to and it's safe to say that I was starting to go crazy. Pretty soon I was starting to form unsafe addictions to caffeine, nicotine, Advil and Nyquil - all legal, yes, but dangerous nonetheless. Slowly but surely, I was reaching a burned-out breaking point without even realizing it. I suppose I'd grown accustomed to the pressure.
It wasn't until a few days ago that I realized the damage I was doing to myself. During a marathon study session at Tisch in which I was being sustained solely by large cups of coffee, I abruptly shut my Constitutional Law textbook and decided that I couldn't physically look at anything academic anymore. So I did what I usually do - walk home in a frenzied panic and IM half my Buddy List to share my latest frustrations. When I heard many variations of the words "I'm really worried about you" and "You're starting to scare me," I decided that I'd gone too far.
I relegated myself to my bed and tried to think of all the things I'd already accomplished at my time at Tufts, both academic and non-academic. I'd made a lot of new friends. I'd explored Boston. I'd stayed up (or stayed out) all night and watched the sunrise. I'd done crazy things on the rooftop of Tisch. Mental breakdowns aside, I really did have a lot to be happy about. So why was I putting myself through such frustration? Yet somehow, I felt no catharsis. I felt like I had to do something, to break away from the stress that had turned into a crippling vice on my sanity and outlook on life.
Which brings me to the entire point of this rambling. Naked Quad Run. An evening when shame goes out the window, when somehow every awkward friendship you've ever had with anyone is forever solidified because you've see them running around with no clothes on. Alcohol is consumed like water and inhibitions mean nothing.
Sounds like a great time, but surprisingly, I didn't run Naked Quad Run last year. As long as I'm being honest about my many addictions, I'll just admit right now that I started drinking at the ripe hour of 7:00 and soon found myself in no state to move, let alone take off my clothes. Besides, I'd decided a few days earlier that running around naked in the freezing cold with 3,000 other Tufts students while the townies watched just wasn't my style. For 13 years, I'd attended one of the most selective, elite private schools in Texas whose student population included the likes of Tommy Lee Jones' and Sean Elliot's daughters. In addition to being stuck-up to an alarming extent, we were all rigid, proper children. We were taught to say "ma'am" and "sir," to hold doors open for people, even how to organize silverware at a fancy dinner table. Needless to say, intense intoxication and all that goes with it were never in my education. Although everyone who knows me will tell you that I'm the least conservative person ever, I just couldn't see myself willingly engaging in something as out-of-control as the Naked Quad Run.
But that was then and this is now. It's time to let go, dammit, and if it means streaking through the quad of Tufts University completely naked, then so be it. I'm not just writing this viewpoint for myself. This is for anyone who's ever felt like setting fire to their books and stepping outside to scream. This is for anyone who's ever been told that one day soon, they're going to turn into Jessie Spano on "Saved by the Bell" ("Jessie, those pills are dangerous!"). This is for anyone who's sick of the library and sick of typing, writing, reading and highlighting. That's right. I'm talking to you.
Naked Quad Run is more than just the biggest night of drunken debauchery at Tufts. It's a time for all of us to release our inhibitions and realize that time is slipping by. Pretty soon, the only concrete memory we'll have from Tufts is a diploma. And though we may have fantastic jobs and make an exorbitant amount of money, do we want to look back and think that we arrived at our place in life because we were insane stress cases? Absolutely not. In the words of Ferris Bueller, life moves pretty fast, and if you don't slow down, you could miss it. So to all of you Red Bull-drinking insomniacs: Trade in your caffeine for a handle of vodka and let that kid who sits next to you in class every day see who you really are. Live your life. Do something crazy. Free yourself.
And for the rest of you - I'll see you on Friday night. With no clothes on and absolutely nothing to worry about.
Courtney Chua is a sophomore majoring in Political Science.
