Unlike I usually do, I planned to prepare for this column. I planned to make an outline more than a day in advance, start writing a few days later and regret not editing thoroughly enough before even submitting anything. The concept was simple: I'd live healthily for a week and report my findings.
Of course, such an endeavor failed. When "living healthily" entails maintaining an acceptable hygienic condition, not eating your weight in chocolate kisses (Valentine's Day was brutal. I love you too, mom), going to sleep before 2:30 am and motivating yourself to walk to the gym, let alone workout, it's certainly a herculean task. So now, without anything to "report" other than the confirmation that chocolate kisses are indeed comparable to real kisses, I'm just as unprepared to write this column as I always am.
But maybe not. Although my week of health was an utter failure, I did learn a few valuable tidbits. They're not valuable enough to be considered "lessons" or "pieces of advice," but they're good anyway. "Tidbit" serves them well.
1. I'm gross, and there will never be a convenient time for me to shower. Ever. I think I'm destined to smell like I've just P90X-ed throughout the entire school week, when taking a shower is admittedly not a priority. To counteract this inertia, I've taken up a new shaming technique -- sniffing my clothes and inspecting myself in the mirror. It works sometimes. If only I could ever deserve to smell this bad.
2. There is no such thing as a Girl Scout who can't sell me cookies. Similarly, I presume, there is no such thing as an old, grimy and purulent man who can't sell me Girl Scout cookies. Thanks-A-Lot girls for a caramel delightful time - unlike your Thin Mints, I'm fat as ever.
3. Never try new things. Ever. When you try a new thing, there's always some potential that it'll stick, become habit, and ruin your life. For example, I'm a newbie in the realm of on-campus eateries and have only just begun to leave the safety of my dining halls and my unlimited meal plan. I've started ordering food, finding alternative foods and utilizing an array of food sources. Consequentially, I'm "utilizing" an array of food. Interested in a midnight snack of Frosted Flakes from the Commons, anyone? I just raised my own hand.
4. I only sort of want to sleep. I'll complain to you, like I complain to most, that I don't sleep enough. What's not entirely true about what this suggests is that I'm totally unhappy not sleeping enough. Really, I'm just exhausted, and not disgruntled. If I can be productive in the wee hours of the morning, I'm definitely going to pounce on that opportunity.
Now you can judge -- was my week an insurmountable failure, or did what I learn while tripping down the stairs accredit the fall? Actually, no, that's a lousy question. Considering I posited, "never trying new things," I don't think this is where I want to steer my conclusion.
Instead, an observation is due: I had planned to prepare for this column, and those plans fell through. But in the process of my failure, I found a new topic and a new plan. Where my plans fled, my organization remained. Why is it necessary to delineate heroic victories over insomnia and hedonism when you could offer entertaining "tidbits?"
Organization is important not because it always succeeds, but because it always prevails -- at least in the case of a particular college student who lacks self-surveillance. When my plans crumble once more (because I know they will crumble once more), maybe their durable structure will provide another topic and another outline. If not, I guess I'll just continue to drown my sorrows in that midnight cup of Frosted Flakes.
Adam Kaminski is a freshman who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached at Adam.Kaminski@tufts.edu.
