Don’t Forget to Explore

Posted on November 24, 2015 by trgraham

Every walk I took last year had a purpose: going to Bartells, the Met, Safeway. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, I suppose, but it limited my impressions of Tacoma. I never bothered to wander around, to explore. To walk down to the water front, to step on the Fall leaves with a purposeful crunch. I was more caught up in the action of Doing Something, to just be.

When I was younger, I would go on walks with my mother, our neighbors, my aunt — we would walk to the beach and I would jump in the waves. We would walk to the park and I would stand on the edge of the bay, amongst the European beach grass, while my shoes became coated in muddy sand, and look out at the juxtaposition of the two nearby towns. I’d watch the cars drive past on the highway, while I walked on the railing of the railroad tracks, my arms outstretched to keep myself from falling.

Somewhere in the years I lost that and somehow this year I gained it back.

I stood on the front steps of the Cushman Substation building and pulled my shoulders up, while scrunching my nose because this is creepy, guys. I stopped at the Little Lending Library on Union Street and looked through it, pulling out a few of the books and reading passages, before continuing on my way. I threw my hands up in the air while walking up a hill, because we were only halfway there. Petted a cat that was weaving through the bars of a house that was up for sale. Wandered through the playground of an abandoned elementary school and read off the graffiti scribbled in Sharpie on the yellow and green plastic structure. I went to the pedestrian bridge and looked down at the trees below, the way the sunlight hit the green and made it more vibrant than usual. All the way to the Tacoma Narrows Bridge and back, my hands and nose and head cold, but smiling because look at the sunset. Down to the waterfront, where, standing there in the late Fall wind, you feel like you’re somehow connected to everything.

It’s nearly the end of the semester and I know it’s easy to get caught up in the stress of homework, the stress of college, but don’t forget the big picture and don’t forget to explore.

The view from the Tacoma Narrow’s Bridge.

“Home is where the heart is.”

Posted on November 21, 2015 by kevinle

That’s the saying, right? Home is not a physical location, it is wherever you like. Once you choose your home, it’s hard to leave. It’s hard to go someplace else, someplace that isn’t home.

Thanksgiving Break is coming up, so most of the school is toughing out these last few days so they can finally head home to family, friends and free food. I know some people just decided to skip out and headed home early. Me, however, I’m sticking around this Thanksgiving.

My excuse to my family was that I couldn’t afford a plane ticket. That’s not entirely the truth. Between those huge purchases at the beginning of the year and what I get from work-study, I don’t have much. But I do have enough to get a plane ticket without going totally broke. So why aren’t I going home this Thanksgiving?

I’m already home. My heart is here.

It’s true that I spent my entire life in the same house. I have friends that I’ve known literally my whole life. My cat and dogs… well, I miss them like Homer can eat doughnuts, which is more than any human can possibly imagine. Then there’s In-n-Out. As a Californian through and through, I’m not sure if I can make it much longer without my regular dose of a double-double, animal fries and a milkshake.

Seriously, if anyone in California is reading this, please mail me In-n-Out. At least send me a picture with a detailed report of smell, taste and texture. I’ll give you my first, second and third-born children for it. …Yeah I have a problem. Anyway, back on topic.

I have all of these reasons to call that place home, but I can’t, not anymore.

I chose UPS for a number of reasons. Its size, people, culture and individualized attention to name a few. It’s just such an amazing place despite what some people may think. But one of the biggest is probably not one many people have. It’s how much this place has changed me.

People always say to stay true to yourself, to not change. But for there to be progress, there must be change. I love who I’ve changed into. I’ve grown more social. I’ve started rock climbing. As of last Tuesday, I’ve started playing Rugby. I work for ASUPS, not really knowing what I’m doing half the time but having tons of fun. I write for the school blog. I’m still really aggressive, but I’m getting better- I hope. If you asked me 6 months ago that I would’ve changed this much, I would’ve probably just said “You’re funny” sarcastically and returned to my computer.

I don’t want to go back because I don’t want to return to being the person I was before. I don’t want to slip back into old habits and become the old me again. That’s why this is my home now. This is where the new and improved me lives. This is where my heart is.

So while everyone else is rushing to home and back for Thanksgiving, I’ll be relaxing, because I’m already home.

(But seriously though, I need In-n-Out like immediately)

Tired and Grateful: Thankful for the Chance to Work Hard

Posted on November 18, 2015 by cmobrien

In six days—yes I am counting!—I will be fling home for Thanksgiving, and the season’s got me thinking about what I am grateful for. And what I realized, strange as it may seem, is that I am grateful for the chance I have been given to work my butt off. I have worked harder academically this semester than I think I can ever remember working. I have read hundreds of pages of complex social theory, history and politics. I have had to think deeply and critically every day. It’s been really, really hard.
And I’d like to say thank you for it.
I love to learn. I get a natural high from complex conversations. And this semester I have been given the chance to learn a great deal, and see the connections between things that I never would have before.
One of my courses, the Latin American Travel Seminar on Cuba, is not generally marketed to sophomores. I’s an upper level course usually reserved for juniors and seniors, because it’s such a heavy workload. I begged the professor, who I had for a history class last year, to let me in.
“You’ll have to work hard. Really hard. It will be your hardest class, and probably harder than anything else you’ll have taken here,” he said.
He was right, of course. It dos have more reading than any other class I have ever had here at UPS, but the readings are so interesting I don’t mind. I pause halfway through my readings as I sit in my living room, my favorite yellow highlighter in hand, and read passages out loud o my housemate and best friend, saying, “isn’t that awesome?” She usually says yes and then reminds me that she is studying too and therefore cannot be interrupted to hear about my homework.
This is what college si about, I think. Finding something you are passionate about and giving yourself to it. I love being a student, because my role in society is to explore ideas.
And that is a wonderful gift. Not everyone will receive that gift, and I recognize that I am privileged to be at an institution where I can be challenged, and to have professors who care enough to push me to be a better writer and thinker. All of my professors, not just the Cuba ones, have helped me to grow this semester and given me the personalized attention that I hoped for when I came to UPS. They’ve given m access to books, movies and articles that have broadened my horizons, and then talked to me about those things as I developed thoughts and opinions about them.
I’m so lucky to have that. So this Thanksgiving, among all the other things I will say thank you for, I am going to make sure to send out thanks for the heavy textbooks and the long nights.

GRE

Posted on November 18, 2015 by lmcginnis

Today I woke up at five thirty to drive up to Seattle and take the GRE. I had to wake up this early because I tend to get lost and because there is a lot of traffic in going through Seattle. There was stop and go traffic on the freeway at six thirty. It was still dark out so all I could really see were streams of red and gold headlights. I pity the poor commuters who have to take that route every morning. It reminded me of what a modern take on Dante’s “neutral” level in hell might be like, bummer to bummer traffic going nowhere.

Luckily, I got to the test center in plenty of time and almost without incident. This was my first time driving in Seattle and I was borrowing my suitemate’s car, which was so big it felt more like driving a boat. Normally, I drive a Prius so I found this quite daunting. I had brought both a GPS and printed directions. It was a good thing I did because the GPS gave out on me about a quarter of the way through and I didn’t have the dexterity to get it going again while driving. So what I tried to do instead was hold the directions up so I could read them. This caused me to swerve dramatically in my lane and then overcorrect. It was at this point on the journey where I reflected that when I had thought to myself “I’ll be there to take the GRE if it kills me” that I hadn’t really meant this literally. A two hundred dollar test isn’t worth dying over. Aside from that, everything went fine and I actually arrived early.

The GRE itself was, in some ways, a lot less stressful than the drive up. It had helped that I had studied before and I knew what to expect. There was a GRE course at the writing center that I had been taking. It gave me a refresher on some of the math concepts, which were basically what I had done in middle school and early high school, only now I had forgotten them all. But because I took the course I was able to remember enough to get a passable score. I wasn’t applying for a math related program so it only had to be just that, passable. My verbal score turned out quite well. I did a few practice sets before so I knew what the questions looked like. In some ways, the GRE is an endurance test. You can’t bring food into the testing room and you only get one ten minute break during the four hours you are there. By the time I got back I was ready to start gnawing on whatever I could find.

But in the end, I did well. My GRE score, if not an asset, at least shouldn’t be an impediment to getting into graduate school. More importantly, however, I’ll never have to take the test again. No more multiple choice questions with more than one answer, no more trying to figure out which quantity is greater, and best of all, no waking up at five thirty to sit in traffic for two hours.

Rainy Days in Oppenheimer Café

Posted on November 18, 2015 by Nick Tucker '16

Saying that the past few days have been a bit rainy is probably as big of an understatement that anyone could make. This sun-spoiled Southern California boy has just about drowned in Puget Sound’s most recent onslaught of blustering downpours. Don’t get me wrong, I definitely enjoy the rain, but having to be outside as the heavens open isn’t my favorite.

Bogged down with writing a draft of my thesis, I took a coffee break in Oppenheimer mid-morning on Friday. While I don’t normally do much work in either of our campus cafés, the urgency of my looming Monday due date for the draft necessitated that my coffee break included a bit of work.

Gray Skies in Oppenheimer

With friends coming and going as I tried to get work done, I definitely wasn’t the most productive, but I was certainly reminded of what a beautiful campus we have. Just an hour before, I was fuming with disdain for the stormy weather, but watching the rain from inside of the glass dome gave me an entirely new perspective. There is something so relaxing about watching drops of rain stream down the full glass windows as you sip on a latte, even if it means you won’t get much work done. I think the lesson learned was that when I’m down about the weather, all I really need to do is grab a coffee Opp. Now if only they opened on the weekends….

Leverage: A Show That I am Thankful For

Posted on November 16, 2015 by kstehr

So, now that it’s almost Thanksgiving, I thought it might be best to recommend a TV show that I am not only truly thankful for but that everyone must see because, really– this is the best show ever and I am so upset it was cancelled after five seasons.*

“What is this show?”, you might ask. Well, friends and classmates, this is a show called Leverage. The main premise of the show is that a team of criminals– Nathan Ford, a former insurance agent and the team mastermind, Sophie Devaraux, star grifter, Alec Hardison, hacker extraordinaire, Eliot Spencer, their retrieval specialist, and Parker, the world’s best thief– must break the law in order to serve justice to those who were not able to secure it through legal means.

This show? Is literally the best show that has ever existed. It’s like a spy thriller and a comedy and drama had a baby all together. The characters are amazing and lovely, especially Parker, who is flawless** and wonderful and I love her, and the character development for all of them? is so good. While the episode structure does get a little formulaic at times, it actually helps for when big, status-quo shattering events happen, because the disruption of the general structure tells you, as the audience, “this is bad. Like, really bad.”

In short (since I am trying to keep closer to 300 words in this post), this is an amazing show, I love it so much, and you all need to watch it because it is amazing and I need people to be as upset about its cancellation three years after the fact as I am.*** It’s on Netflix! So you should do the thing, if you have the time.

*I blame my friend Rachel who will see this post and laugh at me because she was trying to get me into this for SO LONG before I finally broke down and watched it.

** Parker is not actually flawless– she does have character flaws. But I love her, so I am using this figure of speech to showcase this diamond of a character. Because she’s flawless.

*** I didn’t even mention all of the side characters, or the amazing dialog, or like. A lot of the other stuff that makes Leverage great. But it is a fantastic show, and, in conclusion, I heartily recommend it

Paris: Thoughts

Image

Temperature held low, right for November, with rain falling steady throughout the night. I woke up early, five AM, lay there in bed and listened to the rain. My legs ached, so I got up to stretch them, stepped outside to look around. Big puddles all over the place, lights on inside the church across the street.

Opened my computer to the news. Earlier death tolls now appearing a conservative estimate. Le Parisien: ‘Cette Fois, C’est La Guerre.’ This Time, It’s War.

Food all over the kitchen: leftovers from the night before, when friends gathered for an early Thanksgiving. Nine or ten of us coming together for a big potluck. Food was set on the table, buffet style, and we spread across the living room on couches and fold-out chairs, ferrying back and forth from our seats to the table. The whole evening abustle, so no opportune moment for a prayer or for silence. Plenty of time, though, over red wine, to swap opinions–each with the tinny ring, the thinness, of murder explained. What to make of it? What led to this? “France’s anti-assimilationist culture!” Another: “Like a pressure cooker of ethnic tensions, boom.” Another: “As if this many aren’t killed every day in the Middle East…” Another: “It’s the new normal, this sort of attack.”

Morning coming on fast now. Rain slowing down even as the sun rises. What’s the science behind that? The symbolism?

My uncle writes from Paris: “President Hollande has called for three days of mourning. No need to call for that, except for the formality of it, really; it’s already happening.”

If we’d somehow known, perhaps we’d’ve planned our gathering for another night. But to gather—to share company, food, laughter, to celebrate life and love, to give thanks for friends—was perhaps the best thing we could have done in any case.

Sun up, rain stopped but still dripping from the gutters. How to respond to tragedy when discourse seems so thin? One possibility: tears, rage for the lives lost, yes, but renewed and deepened love for the lives left.

Panther Creek Cave

Posted on November 13, 2015 by Colton Born

There’s nothing quite as disconcerting as not being able to see. Think about it.

You’re a kid and you’re goofing around with your siblings on the family room floor. Your dauntless six-year-old-self is standing ground like a champ, wailing on the others with pillows that send them to the floor in a flurry of defeat. You’re invincible. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice a faint movement. It all happens so fast and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your older, bigger brother sneaks around your blindside and jumps on you from the couch with a big, black comforter in his hands. He knocks you over and covers you with the blanket, wrapping you up tight in it, cementing you to the ground by sitting on you in triumph. You have been bested.

Under the blanket however, things aren’t all fun and games. You open your eyes and the smile disappears from your face. It’s dark, you can’t see, you can’t move your hands, and worst of all, your brother will not get off. You’re terrified. You get hysterical. You start thrashing around like a hooked fish, but to no avail. Eventually after minutes of this, you are forced to give up and accept your fate. You’re going to die down there under the blanket, in the dark, alone, tormented by eternal carpet burn.

Ok, over dramatization, I know. But now maybe you understand my first point.

Columbia River via Highway 12

Not too long ago, I had the opportunity to go caving with Puget Sound Outdoors on a weekend trip to the Panther Creek Cave. This cave is near the Oregon border, not too far from the Columbia River Gorge, and according to the Internet, it’s the world’s 34th longest lava tube. Pretty legendary, I know. To put it simply; I was stoked.

But nothing could prepare me for the experience of actually being inside the cave. Up until that day, my knowledge of caves was rather scantily-based upon Indiana Jones movies, and let me tell you, those caves are not real. Now, I know that caves are cold, clammy, wet, dark, and often very difficult to traverse, but nevertheless, the whole experience was a blast.

Walter pondering the perils of the cave

If I were to look back on the trip, I’d be able to point out many moments as favorites, but there’s one that stands out in particular. After being underground for a few hours or so, we’d decided to take a snack break. We had come from a narrower portion into a very spacious, tall chamber that caused even our Pop Tart wrappers to echo off the walls and carry along the tunnel. The 4% of me that wanted to be a geologist was doing backflips in my mind.

Galen pensively considering the philosophy of lava tubes

The best moment was yet to come, however. Eventually the banter died down and the group became silent. Then, someone spoke up saying, “Let’s turn off our headlamps”, and the group unanimously agreed. The next couple minutes were some of the most interesting minutes I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing. I’ve never not been able to see my hand in front of my face before. The only contact I had with the cave, and with my group, were my feet touching the rocky floor. Truly indescribable, really.

Cave babes one and all

So, in case you were curious, I would highly, highly, highly recommend checking out a cave. Whether it be through PSO or not, caving makes for some great experiences, stories, and sights… or not.

Happy trails,

Colton Born

Parallels

Posted on November 11, 2015 by kevinle

I grew up in the east side of my city. I grew up where 65 degrees is too damn cold. I grew up with bars on my windows. I grew up with 7 people in a single story, 4 bedroom house. I grew up in the same house for 18 and a half years. I grew up in a neighborhood of color. I grew up on a corner house next to one of the busiest streets in the area. I grew up looking for the best value in the food I bought, not its appearance or by how healthy it was. I grew up eating rice for dinner almost every night of my life. I grew up not wasting anything. I grew up wondering if I was hearing gunshots or fireworks on the 4th of July. I grew up not as a minority. I grew up hearing half a dozen languages a day. I grew up wishing for things, then wishing some more.

I grew up where I was the same as everyone else.

I live on campus, in the north end of my city. I live where 50 degrees is normal. I live on the third floor of my dorm. I live with a roommate, on a floor with 50 other people, in a building of nearly 200. I live in a place I call home, even though it’s only been 2 months since I moved in. I live where the color palette is lacking. I live next to the stairs, the busiest part of the building. I live eating food from the Diner, paid for by loans. I live wondering when was the last time I ate rice. I live eating everything on my plate. I live wondering which room is blasting music. I live where I’m a minority. I live hearing two languages, only because I have to take a class for one. I live wishing for things, then getting it on Amazon.

I live where I am different than everyone else.

Note: I just want to make it clear that I don’t resent anyone. I wrote this because I noticed and increasing number of differences between myself and the people around me and wanted to share them. These differences aren’t bad things, just… things, I guess.

360 Trails

Posted on November 11, 2015 by Colton Born

I love how this University is tremendously invested into the idea that students should be able to try whatever they want to try while attending UPS. Whether it’s in interdisciplinary courses, study abroad opportunities, or the zillions of clubs on campus, there’s honestly not many things one can’t get their hands on here. The same goes for outdoors.

I call rural Minnesota home, and due to the lack of geographic and topographic variety that categorizes that part of the country, one could say that options for getting outside are rather limited in comparison to other areas (namely the Pacific Northwest). Back home, I really got my start in spending time ‘up north’ with my dad, fishing and taking time to walk through the woods. Nothing too extravagant. Later in life, I was introduced to the concept of backpacking and my world forever changed. Over the next few years, I hiked about 550 miles along the North Shore of Lake Superior as well as other parts of the country. I can now say firmly that backpacking is my favorite thing in this world to do.

Besides homework, obviously.

But then I showed up here and realized that backpacking is only a drop in the bucket in terms of outdoor opportunities in the PNW. Since starting here, I’ve met climbers, bikers, kayakers, canoers, fly-fishermen, spelunkers, canyoneers, snowshoers, and so many other kinds of outdoors-people that it’s a tad bewildering to see how many ways one could spend a Saturday.

The best part about all of this, though, is that because these options exist, and because my school is the way that it is, I can not only learn about all of these different activities, but I can enjoy them all the same.

So when my friend Tyler, an avid mountain biker and erudite mechanic, asked me if he could take me mountain biking some time, let’s just say I was into the idea.

He ended up taking me to 360 Trails in the greater Gig Harbor area, a mere 20 minutes from campus via car. Man, best Wednesday night I’ve had in a long time.

We arrived there after our classes got out on Wednesday (around four), and we got straight to it. Knowing that I had minimal experience, Tyler started us out on a trail that he knew as a ‘beginner trail’… I have never moved so fast on a bicycle in my life. Even though it may have felt at times like my bike was going to disassemble beneath my feet and leave me helplessly hurling over the hills, that never happened, and when that first run was over I just wanted more.

We ended up spending around two hours there. In the process, I may or may not have catapulted myself into a few thorn bushes, disengaged my chain four or five times, and learned that my bike’s brakes don’t really work. However, this new experience in the outdoors will stick with me as one of the most fun times I’ve ever had. So, in short, whether you’re a beginner and prone to falling into thorn bushes, or you’re an expert who can take beginners along primarily for your own amusement, 360 Trails is a great, close-to-campus option for all of you interested in saddling up any day of the week.

Furthermore, wherever you are in life, I would also highly recommend trying something new, preferably something scary, every once in a while if only to keep the blood pumping. Who knows? Maybe it’ll end up being something you love so much that you’ll share your passion with others and get them hooked, all the same.

As always, happy trails,