Ah, the wonders of being a Daily columnist. Free speech at its best, challenging my intellect and communication skills and daring me to take my writing to new levels of non-mediocrity.
I can write about anything, really, as long as its content falls into the category of "health and wellness," it's organized and well-founded, and it's appropriate for my professors to read, for future employees to Google, and for my mom to e-mail to all my relatives.
The life of a columnist is glamorous, I promise. I eat, sleep and breathe observations that I can pass onto readers. An outbreak of paper cuts in the computer lab? I'll experience it firsthand, just for my readers. A malfunctioning elliptical machine in the fitness center? I'm there, falling on my face to test out the facts behind that handmade "Out of Order" sign.
And it's so easy to write! That is, it's easy if writer's block doesn't set in, and if my other work doesn't get in the way, and if I remember to e-mail it to the mysterious staffers in the basement of Brown and Brew (who live off of red ink and coffee grounds, I swear it's true) before my deadline.
And, of course, the most wonderful thing about being a Daily columnist is when it dawns on me in the middle of my spring break that I probably have a submission due before we return to classes come Monday morning.
It's not as though I was lounging in a cabana sipping Cuba Libres and listening to the sounds of water crashing on the beach when a glimpse at a newspaper sent me flailing out of my hammock and into a panic. I was definitely thinking about my column for the entirety of the break and never a minute passed by when I didn't think of my dear reading public.
From the moment I stepped off the plane onto Dominican soil and bid "hasta luego" to the flight attendants blasting merengue from the plane's loudspeakers, I knew I must write and remind my spring-broken audience of the health and wellness we all must strive for in our daily lives.
I swear, I thought about what to write when I had my first bite of mashed plantains (can we get this in Carmichael?) and when I first donned a snorkeling mask to swim above coral in the Atlantic (why isn't this a physical education course?). Of course, plantains don't grow well in Massachusetts, and the turbidity of the Charles River is simply not conducive to snorkeling, but you get the idea.
Loyal readers, I absolutely did not forget you. There is no way I ran to the computer lab of a Dominican university to type this up last minute. And it's simply not true that I panicked when the Internet failed, convinced I'd be blackballed from the Daily for all of time. I never devised a frantic backup plan to live as a vagrant in the Dominican Republic until the class of 2010 graduates, returning incognito to finish my degree and all the while giving Curtis Hall a wide berth.
No, instead I brought you all with me everywhere I traveled, from the beaches of Montecristi to the shores of Las Galeras. I thought of the sailing team when I tipped over my kayak and nearly stepped on a sea cucumber. I thought of Spanish majors when I told a Dominican "Tengo mierda" instead of "Tengo miedo" (find a fluent speaker if you don't get it).
And now I am writing back to you. Here to remind you to stay sane and physically well for the last push before exams. I've met the deadline and I'm on schedule, back in Tufts mode. Not that I ever wasn't.
Kate Peck is a junior majoring in English. She can be reached at Katherine.Peck@tufts.edu.
