I will name my firstborn child ____." "I'm gonna love you 'til you start looking back." "I love this stall." "So much of my identity is caught up with how my scholarly peers see me." "EXISTENTIAL CRISIS."
I would like to credit and thank the women of Tufts, who frequent the first stall in the basement Tisch restrooms, for their words of wisdom that have reached so many of us. The inside walls of those bathroom cubicles reveal thoughts, questions, cries for help, learned wisdom, doodles and compilations of silly information in list form ("If I could replace the sound of my sneeze with an animal call, I would sound like ____ ") that both entertain and inspire me with every visit to the porcelain throne.
Bathroom stalls at Tufts reveal a myriad of interesting graffiti. Some of the writing resonates universally: "The only person that can make you happy is yourself." Some of it makes very little sense to me: "At the moment you realize that the broken string on your yo-yo was never connected to anything in the first place - Enlightenment!" Regardless, the writings on the stalls never fail to provide a thought-provoking bathroom break.
One of the best parts of the stall writing is the open-endedness. People leave titles of lists that prompt a variety of responses. One such list, entitled "Before I die, I want to ____" has received particularly noteworthy answers: "Get published in nature"; "Be a rock star"; "Love myself and only myself"; "Live"; "Die"; "Premier a movie at Sundance"; "Have a lasting relationship"; "Be fluent in another language"; "Visit every national park in the United States"; "Be an Olympic medalist" and "Be respected in my career, home, life, etc." Some are lighthearted and others very heavy, but they all reflect a diverse mentality among the Tufts female population.
I enjoy reading the bathroom stall notes as an anonymous dialogue. The honesty of the walls reveals a candid slice of the collective Tufts mind. It is here that we pour out our hopes, fears, dreams and sexual misadventures, receive responses and reply to others. We interpret the words in deep, shallow and whimsical ways. Of course, every so often the notes succumb to a power wash or re-paint of the stalls. Sad as this may be, it provides a fresh canvas for the next generation of mid-study-session emotional crises.
A few semesters ago, one stall note said something along the lines of, "Leave your books, go outside and gaze out from the roof for just for a few minutes. Take a deep breath, and allow yourself to gain perspective." Though that message has since been erased, it remains etched in my mind because to me, the words clearly indicate the greater purpose of these bathroom stall notes: to take a break and gain perspective. Here, we learn that we are not alone in our feelings of angst, passion, boredom, sexual frustration or anything in between.
I wonder if this medium exists as an outlet for people elsewhere. Do the men at Tufts operate a similar exchange? Do college students elsewhere share in emotion and inspiration while doing their business? I hope so. Reading these notes - if nothing else - provides an excellent temporary escape from studying.
So, take a break from the books, relieve yourself and connect with your fellow Tufts ladies. Chances are, you will realize that you are not so alone in your whirlwind of emotions and stressors. Read, think and respond if you feel compelled to perpetuate the Stall Seat Journal - though by no means shall I condone the graffiti. As the first stall on the left in the Tisch basement reads, "Everyone writes on walls but me."
Eloise Libre is a senior who is majoring in history. She may be reached at Eloise.Libre@tufts.edu.
