Ben Rachel is a sophomore studying economics and computer science. Ben Rachel can be reached at benjamin.rachel@tufts.edu.
This past week, one of my future housemates gave me a challenge for this column. She texted me (ignoring the very important text I had previously sent her) to say that I should make this column about “Tufts geese s-------ting up a storm all over campus and then like to draw some sort of moral parallel to that.”
Well, well, well. It’s like déjà vu. We are back to our favorite time of the semester: midterm season! It’s a beautiful and wonderful time for all Tufts students — spending hours in Tisch cubicles, fighting fellow students for a table outside of Kindlevan Café and crashing out in the Tisch basement (a nod to my past article). For my dear, loyal readers, you can already tell how midterm season is going for me with this delayed publication. I hope you all were able to get through the weekend without my profound insights and comedic tone to guide you.
There are many advantages to going to a small, liberal arts school such as Tufts University. Lots of opportunities for pursuing passions, developing an extensive professional network with both professors and alumni and, of course, meeting new people — not too many though. With that said, while the benefits are substantial, which is probably why a lot of y’all are here, there are downsides that come with it, one of the main ones being seeing everyone you know whether you like it or not.
When I am out and about on campus, many of my fans often ask me how I come up with content for this column (after asking for my autograph of course). Normally, I give a witty answer or deflect the question because I truly don’t have a concrete answer. Some of my publication ideas have needed to marinate for a long time (I have a pretty extensive notes page on my phone) and others have been created at 2 a.m. — the morning of the due date. There is such a dichotomy between how my ideas are procured that I don’t have a definite answer as to which one leads to better content.
I am writing this column in the middle of a packed Tisch, surrounded by stressed students and working off of three Yerba Mates (I’m shaking). Even the reading room is full; I had to share a cubicle with a Fletcher student. It feels like finals season brings everyone out of their dorms to shotgun energy drinks and complain about their workloads.
Like many other Chicagoans, I am a fervent Chicago Bears fan. For those of you who do not know, the Chicago Bears are an American football team located in, you guessed it, Chicago, Illinois. Those who have followed the NFL this year will understand where this anecdote is going.
Well, well, well. Here we are again with another column entry this semester about ‘tough times.’
This article has taken me unprecedentedly long to write. Normally, I can sit down, write a publication in less than an hour and then send it to the editors to clean up my inordinate amount of grammatical errors. This one, however, took me a long time to write. At first, when I came up with the title, I just wanted to let my fans know that I am 6 feet, 2 inches. However, I felt like that wouldn’t be up to par with my other publications. (My fanbase needs to be satisfied.) It was not until I was back in my hometown of Chicago (ranked by Condé Nast as the best big city in the United States for eight consecutive years) that I was struck with inspiration.
This Sunday, my friend and I sat silently at Picante eating our $11 quesadillas (a great deal btw). We sat there with a long weekend of *redacted* activities weighing on our heads, hearts and stomachs. My head lay up against the wall behind me, staring at the blank ceiling; my friend solemnly drank his diet coke, shaking his leg in anticipation of the work ahead of him. The freshmen who sat next to us filled the restaurant with laughter and novelty. A familiar fire burned in their eyes, the same fire that had once burned in ours.
I’m from Chicago — and that is real Chicago. I’m not one of those fools who say they are from Chicago and end up actually being from Glencoe or Evanston. (Just for clarification for all those who just recently left the college application process, Northwestern and UChicago are both NOT in the ‘real’ Chicago.) Also, I know that it’s surprising, but I am not from O-Block; I have not met Chief Keef nor King Von, and I have neither ‘colors’ nor a ‘sign.’With that being said, having lived in the best big city in the United States — voted on by Condé Nast Traveler and many other outlets — I thought I had the necessary knowledge to cross a busy intersection. In fact, Chicago holds the accolade of housing some of the most dangerous intersections. However, I was in no way prepared for the intersection located between the Joyce Cummings Center and the Science and Engineering Complex. The continuous flow of cars, semi-trucks and buses and an overabundance of depressed and anxious students who are looking for any way to not do their next computer science assignment do not make a good combination.
