Driving Blindly

Posted on by

On Friday nights, as a way to celebrate the end of the week, my friends and I often go out to eat at one of the many restaurants in the greater Tacoma area (most recently we went to Tacoma Szechuan, a Chinese restaurant in Lakewood). We usually leave campus at around 6:00 pm, which means we’re usually sitting at a table by 7:00 pm. But it also means that, as we turn west onto the highway, as we often do, we catch the setting sun, in all its brightness, staring us down through the car’s front window—a circumstance that makes it not only difficult to drive, but also to do anything but hide. Our driver does her best to keep within the lines, as she dodges the glare reflecting off of similarly suffered cars. We emit groans, as we fear retinal damage. And so it goes; at 60 mph, we hurtle into the blinding sun.

But we’ll make it through, as we always do, and find ourselves enjoying, say, chow fun and beef broccoli. We’ll look out the window at the lavender sky—the sun always leaves a beautiful color in its wake—and talk about how the sun was so bright today, how we almost didn’t make it, but, of course, we did. And we’ll, each of us, think, perhaps silently, as we struggle to pick up the last piece of rice with our chopsticks, how often—especially now, in college—it can seem that we’re in a car, driving blindly at breakneck (responsible) speeds, into a future that we can’t see. But I’ll think to myself, It’s because our futures are bright, or some such thought; my friends will reach similar conclusions. And we’ll know that, no matter what, so long as we make it to dinner each night, to watch the sky fade from purple to black, everything will be all right.

We drive home. Some tired streetlamps go to sleep for the night. The roads are empty and the night is quiet. If we turned off the headlights, we’d be driving blindly.

Driving Blindly

En resumen: Ida de Chile, vuelta a UPS

Posted on by

* En castellano abajo

A lot has happened since I left Chile early that Tuesday morning after unintentionally/intentionally missing my flight back to the United States two days before. Prior to this, I had innocently woken up on Sunday morning thinking that day would be my last when my sister Monica texted me: “ANDY, WHERE ARE YOU??? Tita is waiting for you at LAX!!!.” In all my time flying across the Pacific ocean, I had never missed a flight before. I had been telling people that I was leaving on “August 10th” since the beginning of the semester when in reality it was the evening of August 9th. It seems like I had dreaded coming back so much that my eyes were blinded at the moment I checked the ticket for my time of departure. I didn’t have my things packed until the day before, hours before my new flight. My friend had to call in an airport shuttle for me only a few hours earlier. I allowed myself to be irresponsible because I would do anything to stay. Santiago de Chile was my home for a year. A return to gringolandia seemed like an ominous future of gray skies for eternity…

View of Santiago from San Cristobal Hill / Vista de Santiago desde Cerro San Cristóbal

View of Santiago from San Cristobal Hill / Vista de Santiago desde el Cerro San Cristóbal

But, I’ve been quite happy here so far. I always say “so far” like I’m doomed to reverse culture shock and homesickness, however that’s something I experience regularly in more intense and milder forms having lived in 4 countries until now (the perks of being a third culture kid!) Being back, I’m seeing UPS and Tacoma with fresh eyes. Some parts of campus were renovated. I had forgotten the names of buildings and Tacoma streets (and am still learning).  I heard that school year 2013-14 was an exciting year with a lot of race talk happening, including the new diversity curriculum requirement (!!!). Kudos to the faculty, students, and staff who initiated it. This year’s freshman class is supposed to be the most ethnically diverse in this school’s history. UPS strives to be better.

After a year of traveling, carrete, adventuring, making mistakes, learning lessons (but also some serious academic work, of course!) my body wanted me to settle down for just a little while. I have amazing professors this semester, all of whom are (or are partially) of color (!!!). I’m taking classes interesting classes: Central American Literature, Race & Multiculturalism in the US context, The Business of Alleviating Poverty, and International Marketing. I also took an Intro to Hiking/ Camping class for which I get activity credit.  I’m getting involved in immigration justice efforts, a cause that I care deeply about and that hits close to home. Because of all this I’m also more motivated than I’ve ever been in my time here.

I’ve realized again that the core of UPS is truly our professors. When I find those connections with professors like I have this semester, I realize why I decided to go to school here and why I have decided to stay . Taking the right classes, it can be a personal education. A “liberal arts education.” This is where I’ve learned to think critically and make sense of how I move, and the space I occupy in this crazy microcosm of a world.

There are little things I do to cope with homesickness. I have a latina friend on staff who I get coffee with sometimes. Two of my floor mates are exchange students from the University of Passau in Germany. One of them is half Spanish, and it’s so great to have someone I can regularly speak Spanish with. I live in a supportive environment with an awesome group of girls and a boy in the “Michel Rocchi International District”, an academic-residential floor housed in Commencement Hall that engages students in international issues and activities when they return from/leave for study abroad. Through these things, I’ve found some sense of a “transnational” community.

Fireworks at Log Jam/ Un show de fuegos artificiales durante 'Log Jam' (un evento de presentación de las actividades y grupos estudiantiles de la universidad).

Fireworks at Log Jam/ Un show de fuegos artificiales durante ‘Log Jam’ (un evento de presentación de las actividades y grupos estudiantiles de la universidad).

Pike's Place Market with my flatmates/ El mercado 'Pike's Place' de Seattle con mis compañeras de piso

Pike’s Place Market with my flatmates/ El mercado ‘Pike’s Place’ de Seattle con mis compañeras de piso

This past fall break I finally got the chance to Skype with some of my best friends I met in Chile. We talked about how returning to our home countries, we aren’t the same people who left.  I’m not the same person I was as a sophomore here a year ago. Chile changed me in so many ways that I still continue to realize.  I became more myself in my time there, and the whole experience solidified my social identity, my way of life and way of being. It reinforced the affinity I have with Latin American cultures, which because of similarities with Filipino culture just feels like home to me. I made the most amazing friends from Bolivia, Brazil, Taiwan, Germany, Peru, Mexico, Italy, France, El Salvador, Japan, Costa Rica, Colombia, Sweden, and from the Midwest/East Coast of the United States and local Chilean friends. My friend Isabella and I have already talked about having our future children do an interchange, my kid to Brazil and her kid to the Philippines. At some point when I move back to South America the plan is to to crash at her place in Sao Paolo for a month to learn Portuguese. I’m young, the future looks bright, and I will be graduating next May…

I could write about all of this forever, which is why it’s so great that I now have a platform where I can do so!

 

En Castellano:

Mucho ha pasado después de ese martes por la mañana cuando salí de Chile, tras haber perdido mi vuelo de vuelta a Estados Unidos a propósito/ sin querer, dos días antes. Anteriormente, había despertado inocentemente el domingo por la mañana pensando que iba a ser mi último día cuando de repente mi hermana me manda un mensaje. “¿ANDY, DÓNDE ESTÁS??? TITA ESTA ESPERANDOTE EN LAX (aeropuerto de Los Ángeles)!!! En todo el tiempo que he pasado volando a través de los océanos pacífico y atlántico, nunca he perdido un vuelo. Desde el principio, cuando me preguntaban sobre la fecha de mi salida decía el 10 de agosto, cuando en realidad era el día 9. Parece que temía tanto volver que me quedé ciega al momento de ver la hora del despegue en mi ticket. No hice las maletas hasta el día antes previamente al vuelo nuevo. Mi amigo tenía que llamar al Transvip unas horas antes. Me permitía ser irresponsable porque haría cualquier cosa para quedarme. Santiago de Chile era mi casa por un año. Volver a gringolandia me pareció un futuro ominoso de cielos grises, para una eternidad…

Pero sinceramente, he estado bastante contenta hasta ahora. Siempre digo “hasta ahora” como si fuera condenada a una existencia de choque cultural inverso y nostalgia, pero ya estoy acostumbrada de pasar esto en formas más fuertes y apacibles después de haber vivido en cuatro países hasta ahora. Ya que estoy acá, veo a mi universidad y a Tacoma con una perspectiva distinta. Se renovaron al campus. Se me había olvidado los nombres de los edificios y las calles de la ciudad (sigo despistada, pero aprendiendo!) Había escuchado que el año escolar 2013-14 fue un año muy interesante en mi universidad, con mucho ruido del tema de la ‘raza’ y incluso un nuevo requisito del currículum de diversidad (como tenemos una facultad y alumnado poca diversa en comparación con otras partes del país como California por ejemplo y no refleja la diversidad étnica que queda afuera de nuestra “burbuja”, realmente es un gran problema) . El grupo de novatos de este año es supuestamente el más diverso en toda la historia de la universidad. La Universidad de Puget Sound se esfuerza por mejorar.

Después de un año de viaje, de carrete, de aventuras, de cometer errores y de aprender de ellos (¡pero igual un serio estudio académico en la PUC!) mi cuerpo quería quedarse quieto por un momento y estudiar realmente en serio. Tengo profesores increíbles. Fue todo un milagro y tal vez una muestra de progreso, que al volver todos mis profesores este semestre son extranjeros y de distintas etnias. Estoy tomando clases fascinantes: Literatura centroamericana, Raza y multi-culturalismo en el contexto de Estados Unidos, El negocio de aliviar a la pobreza, y Marketing internacional. También tomé un curso de camping / trekking, por lo que me dan crédito de educación física. Estoy involucrada en esfuerzos de justicia para los inmigrantes, que es una causa que me importa profundamente y que personalmente me ha afectado la vida. Por lo tanto, estoy más motivada que nunca.

Me he dado cuenta de nuevo que el corazón de esta universidad, lo que lo distingue de otras universidades, son los profesores. Cuando encuentro a esas conexiones y relaciones como ha pasado este semestre, entiendo por qué decidí asistir a esta universidad y por qué decidí en quedarme. Con las clases buenas, puede ser una educación personalizada. Una educación de “artes liberales.” Una que me ha hecho pensar críticamente y dar sentido a como muevo, y el espacio que ocupo en este microcosmo loco del mundo en que vivimos.

Hay unas cositas que hago para aguantar a la nostalgia. Tengo una amiga abuela latina, charlamos y tomamos café juntas (Cuando me conoció ella pensó que soy chilena!). Dos de mis compañeras de piso son de la Universidad de Passau en Alemania. Una de ellas es media española así que es genial poder conversar en español. Vivo en un ambiente acogedor con un grupo de chicas muy simpáticas (y un chico) en el “Michel Rocchi International District”, una residencia-academica ubicada en Commencement Hall, que nos hace participar en cuestiones internacionales y actividades antes de que los alumnos se van/ cuando se vuelvan de estudiar al extranjero.

Durante el fin de semana largo por fin tuve la oportunidad de hablar por Skype con unos de mis mejores amigos que conocí en Chile. Conversamos de como al volver a nuestros países, no somos las mismas personas que salieron. No soy la misma persona que yo era hace un año en esta universidad. Chile me ha cambiado en maneras tan distintas y de que sigo dando cuenta durante mi tiempo en Estados Unidos. (¡Déjame ser un poco cursi!..), mi tiempo allá me hizo sentirme más ‘yo’ que antes, y la experiencia en total se solidificó mi entendimiento de mi manera de vivir y de ser. Reforzó la afinidad que tengo con las culturas latinoamericanas, que me siento en casa por las semejanzas que tiene con la cultura filipina. Hice los amigos más increíbles de Bolivia, Brazil, Alemania, Taiwan, Perú, México, Italia, Francia, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Japón, Colombia, Sweden, del medio-oeste y costa del este de Estados Unidos, y mis amigos chilenos. Mi amiga Isabella y yo hemos hablado de que cuando tengamos hijos haremos con ellos un intercambio Brazil-Filipinas. Tengo el plan de quedarme en su casa en Sao Paolo por un tiempo y aprender portugués en unos años. Soy joven, el futuro me parece brillante, y ya voy a graduarme en Mayo.

¡Podría escribir sobre este tema sin parar, por eso que es tan genial que ya tengo una plataforma para compartir mis experiencias! (y que la U me pague a la vez…)

Phantom of the Opera

Posted on by

I learned this Halloween that old horror movies, when watched today, can be incredibly funny. Case in point: the 1925 version of Phantom of the Opera, directed by Rupert Julian. If you don’t know, this is a film about an up and coming Parisian opera star, Christine Daae, being stalked by a masked man living under the opera house. At one point she follows him down into the basement of the opera house and seems to be on the verge of falling in love with him. You think that fact that he was living “five cellars down” in the basement and speaking to her through the walls would have been some kind of clue for her, but no. Her skill set is singing opera, looking gorgeous, and fainting dramatically. Of course in the end she rejects the phantom, who is then conveniently killed by a Parisian mob.

What I found the most hilarious was the dialogue and the way the characters reacted to their situations. The Parisian solution to any crisis seemed to be running around waving their arms over their heads in a crowd possibly trampling people. That and at the end they decided to form a mob and run around with torches above their heads instead. Two of the funniest characters were the new owners of the opera who didn’t seem to have any control whatsoever over what was going on. Just before they took ownership the previous owners told them it was “barely possible” that they would see a ghost called the Phantom. That’s like selling your house, and as you’re walking out the door, telling the people you sold it to that it’s “barely possible” the roof might cave in.

It was a really good production and a great way to spend Halloween. The music, performed by Duane Hulbert and Sarah Stone, was excellent. Nothing adds to an old timey horror movie like creepy organ songs. The whole thing got me laughing which, in my book, made it a success.

Casino Night Advice

Posted on by

“Don’t take advice from your opponents, including me.”

“So that’s how were going to play this?”

My friend smiled and bumped my shoulder as we got ready to ante in. We were at Casino Night. There was twenties music and free food. Here are four things I learned from this experience.

  1. Cookies with white chocolate chips taste as good as I remember.
  2. In Texas Holdem you can have main pools and side pools. This happens when people go all in and can’t bet anymore. This makes things really hard for the dealer.
  3. Don’t be the jerk who swears every other word and calls his opponents ****ers. You’re not as cool as you think you are.
  4. Put yourself out there and meet new people. If you’re shy like me, sitting down at a table with six or seven others forces you to talk to them even if it’s just to say “call.”
  5. Go check out the swing dancing upstairs. It’s a good way to loosen up, swivel those hips.

I think the loosening up is the most important. As college students we are constantly busy and that creates stress. Sometimes we start to feel like walking backpacks. Right now I’m juggling the start of my senior thesis, the search for internships, classes, work, and extracurricular activities. It was relaxing to let all that go for a while. It was a fun pocket of me time. Do something, like Casino Night, that lets you unwind. Even if it’s just a hot shower or listening to your favorite music. You won’t be sorry.

Happiness is a Renewable Resource!

Posted on by

I have always felt that giving is more rewarding than recieving–there is so much genuine joy in helping someone else and brightenign their day just a little bit. When I got to campus, I happened upon a club which gave me a wonderful, fun way to do that–Campus Cursive! The motto of the club–Happiness is a Renewable Resource–appealed to me, because it was so simple and so true. Joy spreads in ripples. As Buddha once said, “Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” What, you might ask, does Campus Cursive do to spread joy here at Puget Sound? We write letters. About fifteen a week, give or take, at a big table in Langlow House, music playing and with lots of laughter. The basic concept is this: there are two main submission boxes on campus, one in Diversions Cafe and the other in Oppenheimer, and several in residence halls. There are forms attached to the boxes which ask for some basic information: the name of the letter’s intended recipient, and why they need or deserve a letter. For example, whoever filled out the form might check the box that says that theirfriend “needed a pick me up”, but they might also just “want to tell them how awesome they are”. There’s also a blank space at the bottom of the form for comments. We pick up the forms, and then, we write the letters and sign them Campus Cursive. We are hoping to bring a ray of sunshine into someone’s life, especially if it’s been feeling gray. When I read forms that say things like, “My friend is really stressed and needs help,” I am reminded once again of the importance of small acts of kindness, and I hope fervently as I seal the envelope that this piece of paper in my hand can be the catalyst that turns someone’s day around, or at least their mood. Moments of happiness turn into hours turn into days, so at Campus Cursive we try our best to bring people the moments, and in doing so we bring joy to ourselves as well–as our lively meetings can attest. Please fill out forms in Div or Opp–we really do enjoy writing the letters, and full boxes makes us feel appreciated and needed! If you want to get involved with us, come to meetings at 5 pm on Wednesdays at Langlow House! Letter writing is a wonderful and too often overlooked art form, and you might find that an hour with a pen, paper and some stickers revitalizes you for the second half of the week. Have a wonderful Halloween–and wherever you are, whether students on our campus, alumni, prospective students  or just casual readers–spread happiness today. 10506733_349085458601977_9134717382063487968_o

Fun fact: This day last year, I helped an elementary-schooler draw a picture of “how drugs affect your family.”

Posted on by

About little over a year ago – on August 24, 2013, to be exact – as I was getting ready to dive (get it?) out of my comfort zone and do a super science-y study abroad program, I made a goal to keep a sort-of-journal while I was there.  Part of this was because I wanted to record my experiences abroad, of course, but mostly it was to maintain my ability to write creatively and hold onto my English-major-ness – I said it’s a “sort-of-journal” because it’s predominantly for free-writing, not for recording my daily whims.

This time last year, I was wishing the UPS crew team good luck at this weekend's Head of the Lake while underwater.

This time last year, I was wishing the UPS crew team good luck at this weekend’s Head of the Lake while underwater.

I currently have that first green Five Star notebook sitting next to me.  The front plastic cover, for some reason, is permanently curved and has been ever since my study abroad program’s three-day camping trip among the ants and invasive coconut palms of North Caicos last October.  Deciding to fill this notebook was easily one of the top four decisions of my entire study abroad experience – the other three being to take the Advanced Open Water SCUBA certification course, to do a homestay during my mid-semester break, and to help my younger sister organize a book drive for the schools on the School for Field Studies’ island.  I finished the last page of this notebook on July 6, 2014, and have started a new one with the hopes of finishing it in less time than the first.

The reason I bring this up is because I think that self-improvement is an important part of the college experience, and writing – whether creative or journaling – is, for me at least, the best way for self-reflection and thinking.  I’m all about academic learning; I think it’s extremely important and inherently valuable – something I probably picked up on from my grandparents, who have never stopped looking for knowledge.  But your intellect is not the only thing that should grow in college – and that’s why I go to bed about fifteen minutes later than I could on most nights.  And taking that much time to free-write is kind of a big deal when your alarm’s set for 5:30 a.m.

It’s also interesting to look back through last year’s notebook and see what I was up to this day last year.

When it rains, it pours

Posted on by

If for one second I thought Tacoma was going to persist in the summer sun-loving weather we’ve had up last week, this week’s downpours would prove me wrong! Fall Break was last week and as the Pacific Northwest rain welcomed us back to classes. And at first for this sun-loving Hawaii girl it was such a bummer, no more slippers (flip flops for those mainlanders), shorts, light breezy tops and gorgeous blue skies Tacoma has! But I forgot how beautiful the rain could be here too.

At first I would only wake up to see it rained overnight, then to raining at crew practice in the morning into all day raining. So officially dug into my closet to pull out my rain jackets and they’ve been getting very good use. The torrential downpour on Wednesday made everybody break out their rain jackets and rain boots, including myself, with only a few brave souls still walking around without a waterproof jacket. Some might say the rain ruins everything, that they can’t go outside, they’re stuck inside and their car is getting dirty again or some other excuse to avoid the rain. But we Loggers love the rain! The rain looks beautiful from our room, from that trendy cafe downtown, from the many study areas in the Library, and all over campus as usual.

All the rain makes us appreciate those sunny days and blue skies afterwards even more!  The clouds clear to a beautiful rainbow and make the blue skies even blue-er. It’s because of the rain we have such amazing camps grounds, the lush green grass (its very deceiving there is buckets of mud underneath them, stay off the grass! xP ) flower beds, shrubs and trees! The rain isn’t all rainbows and sunshine, its hard to anticipate when you  emerge from class all bundled up for the rain to a break in the downpour. The rain signals the changing of the season into fall, the transition into the early sunsets, we’ve learned to get creative about what we can do outside and how much fun we can have inside as well!

Running (Away From My Problems, Mostly)

Posted on by

I got five and a half hours of sleep the night before. Not because of homework, or my wild social life (just kidding) (my social life is the least wild thing in the history of college students), or even relationship problems—I spent three hours I should have been sleeping talking a friend down from an anxiety attack. I was exhausted.

A more normal person would have stayed in bed until 2:00 pm. I did not.

I knocked on my friend’s door (a different friend). “Do you want to go for a run with me? Down to the water?”

Twenty minutes later, we had adjusted our iPods, double-knotted our shoes, and ran out the door.

The pace we set was higher than usual, and my lungs and quads began burning pretty quickly. We ran down Warner, towards Thirtieth; the leaves on the tree were turning color and the wind kept blowing them into our eyes. It was sunny, though; one of the last truly nice days of the year.

After skidding down the dirt path through the park (I don’t know the names of these places and frankly I’m a little too lazy to look them up), we arrived on the edge of the Sound. The water was very, very blue.

Really really blue.

Very blue.  I don’t know how else to describe it.

The wind picked up slightly, blowing my hair out of my face. We stopped running, and settled ourselves at the high tide line, where the water lapped our toes. I trailed my fingers in the water, and felt the sweat on the back of my neck evaporate. The sound of ocean hummed in my ears until it was all I could hear; that, and my heartbeat in my throat and temples and my wrists.

My friend yelped as a wave crashed over the tips of her sneakers. I laughed.

We ran along the waterfront; past a group of people taking photos of a silver fire hydrant, or possibly the warehouse across the street (it’s artsy, or something); past a man propped on the remains of one of the old cement blocks, in the water; past several fish houses and a painting of a man’s orange face.

“How do you think they did that?” my friend asked.

“With difficulty,” I said.

I'm imagining an inflatable raft.

I’m imagining an inflatable raft.

We turned to face the hill; we craned our necks up and up and up, until we were no longer looking at the quiet street but at the clouds that streaked the sky. We had to go back.

Our sneakers beat into the worn pavement. Our voices died, replaced with the ragged sound of our breathing. Up the hill. We ran.

 

Several days later, I tugged on an old regatta shirt with long sleeves and a pair of leggings. It was drizzling, and freezing cold outside. It was also 10:00 at night.

“I’m going for a run,” I told my roommate.

“Don’t die,” she said.

I ran down Union Avenue; it’s lit, and the orange glow from the street lamps cast everything in the shades of Halloween. I dashed past a glowing black cat clutching a pumpkin, several flickering jack-o’-lanterns, a ghost swaying from the trees. Trees, with their leaves barely clinging to the branches, obscured the night sky.

My heart hammered wildly in my chest. I kept running. My legs cramped, the muscles in my thighs seized. I kept running.

I had received a phone call at about 9:00 P.M., from home—one of my cats, at only seven years old, had taken very ill and died in the space of only two days. On top of everything else—it’s the time of year when my homework is piling up and my brain starts to fracture—I sprinted out my door, into the night.

The air cooled my burning eyes.

 

To be clear, I hate running. I have short legs and a rather curvy figure and basically that completely wrong body type for running. But running does something to me that most other forms of exercise cannot: it clears my mind. Rain, sun, night, day, wind, snow—it does not really matter to me. What does matter is the fresh air and the burning in my legs and lungs, and the comforting quiet of the nearby Tacoma streets.

 

 

Northwest Furniture Bank

Posted on by

I began my morning by waking up early and volunteering at the Northwest Furniture Bank in Tacoma. It’s a nonprofit organization that provides furniture to people who are just getting their own homes. A group of us from Phi Eta Sigma went and helped the volunteers deliver the furniture to their clients’ apartments. A process that with just their volunteers would have taken thirty-five to forty minutes per apartment, instead took ten to fifteen. Overall it was hectic but quite rewarding.

First off, we got lost. It was a straight shot, ten minutes between campus and the furniture bank, but we managed to double that. We missed the turn and then the GPS began to give us really crazy directions. I think it was just messing with us. We got on the freeway, got off the freeway, and did a few extra loops. On the plus side we listened to some cool tunes on the radio.

Then the organization itself was disorganized. They weren’t ready for us and the person who our group leader had corresponded with wasn’t there. After a few awkward moments, including one where one of their volunteers asked why we looked so guilty, we got underway. Our group leader later said that we were guilty, “Guilty of being awesome.” I choose this interpretation.

The volunteer work itself was pretty basic, carrying furniture into apartments. Luckily for us, all the apartments were on the ground floor. One of the women we moved for said that she really appreciated our help, which felt good to hear. It’s always nice to know that you have made a difference for the better in someone else’s life. Also, there were these adorable kids waving at us out of one of the windows as we passed. We waved back. They seemed to think we were really fascinating.

It was a good experience. I got to get off campus and drive around Tacoma helping people. It was worth getting up early for.

Halloween Party: Letting it Go

Posted on by

I spent this afternoon putting up cobwebs and arranging body parts. This was to decorate Langlow House for the annual Halloween party. We arranged the four rooms we used by theme: graveyard, hell, murder room, and pumpkin patch. I even had the pleasure of hearing one fellow decorator say to another: “Put another spider in hell.” It was a cool sentence to take out of context. The house looks great, festooned with skulls, including our house mascot, Yorick. With luck the decorations should stay up until we choose to take them down…probably right before Christmas.

The party itself was a success. There were board games, costumes, and free food. We even did the mystery touch game. In this activity you reach your hand into a box of something named “Flayed Flesh” that is really just tortillas…you hope. A couple of people actually ate stuff out of the mystery touch boxes. It seemed like a risky move to me but then again it was a Halloween Party.

People put a lot of effort into their costumes this year. They ranged from a duo costume of Elsa and Anya from Frozen to a jellyfish with a real light on top. The jellyfish costume seemed like a real pain to carry around (the light was attached to an umbrella which was held above the head) but it looked cool. It was really shiny and it glowed. Sometimes that’s all you need.

As for the board games we played some Apples to Apples and some Survivor: Worst Case Scenario. I now know that to protect my valuables in a hurricane I should put some plastic wrap over the computer and television, and put the smaller ones in the washer or dryer. This should come in real handy here in the Northwest. Though with global warming…who knows? From Apples to Apples I learned that some people have a funky sense of humor. Also, spam is not romantic.

People got to laugh and shriek a little, let off some steam after midterms. As I write this I can hear “Do You Want to Build a Snowman” coming in from the other room. It was a good party.