Back in the prehistoric era before the Internet age, people in this country had a problem.
They wanted to express themselves to the world. Some wanted to shout angry threats, others wanted to wax poetic. Many pondered the cosmos, while a few merely wanted to comment on the sexual history of Beatrice, that girl in EC 5 — you can tell that this was a long time ago because people still named their daughters Beatrice. They had all these things to say, but had no outlet for doing so. Without the Internet, the concept of the blog was a mere wet dream for the voiceless and downtrodden. There was no Twitter, no JuicyCampus.com and, much like current times, no one read books.
But man, being a resourceful creature, came up with a solution. One day, as he sat contemplating his dilemma, in an expression of uncontrollable rage and world-shattering creativity, he took a key out from his pocket and furiously scratched away at the wall next to him. At the time, that man was relieving himself in a public restroom. He looked at the markings he had made and thought to himself, "That's one fly tag. I'm gonna do that in every bathroom I ever use from now on." And from that first, frustrated outburst, a phenomenon was born.
People came and saw the tag and thought, "That dude tags like a little girl. Look at my tag. It's so much flyer. I can't wait for my sk8er punk friends to come see it and wonder who made that awesome tag." And then, inevitably, a person thought, "Hey, before I tag this wall, I'm going to write something inspiring. How about this: ‘I'm sitting on the toilet.' Hell yeah, that's clever. And so with that simple five-word sentence on a bathroom stall, the blog was born.
That little idea that was the blog has come a long way since. Its move to the Internet caused an exponential growth, like human population growth when people realized that after working on the farm, rolling around in manure and cutting themselves with rusty sickles, it would be a good idea to wash up with some soap. Yes, in the history of the blog, the Internet equals soap. Now people can blog anywhere, anytime, not just during the three to 15 minutes they spend exorcising their midterm stress demons in Tisch.
However, the course of human progress always has its casualties. The public bathroom blog's popularity waned as people realized writing "Stacy's a ho fo sho" on the Internet could reach a larger audience.
On the Tufts campus, the former holy sites began to succumb to the totalitarian forces of Facilities. The stalls in the campus center, once a haven for the bathroom-blogging masses, got a new layer of blue paint. In Tisch, the newly installed black plastic stalls resist ink and all but the most persistent scratching. Now for the connoisseurs among us, there remains only one real cathedral left and as I write this, I fear its downfall is imminent. It's the main-floor bathroom in Eaton.
In one last creative gasp, people are flocking to vent in the awkward, no-urinal environment. Some get political (and idiotic): "PALIN 2012." Some get deep: "MTV invented reality with the Real World." Some cry out to the world: "TEAR DOWN THIS WALL!!!" while others pose questions for "Dat Ninja" or quote Shakespeare. Then the select inspired few create their own poetry. Go read some; it's quite precious, although not exactly printable.
Look, bathroom stall blogging is a part of our history. We owe it to our children to keep it alive. The next time you find yourself in the 3x4 box, add your personal spice. But in the spirit of creative collaboration, remember the one golden rule: "Respect the wall, or don't write at all."
