Maria Arozamena

Out my window, snow is falling magnificently onto the ground. I watch children laughing and singing jolly little hymns and students chucking snowballs at each other fast enough to make club baseball tryouts. Dogs are striding down Broadway with their chic paw mittens à la mode. Oh, what joy to be alive on a cold winter’s day!

…Is what I thought the first time I saw snow as a weeny, impressionable first-year hailing from the balls-hot south. I remember leaving church that November morning — my first Catholic mass — to find flurries of snow wisping through the air. I guess you could call it divine intervention.

Now, though, I tend to feel more like a naked mole rat in the cold than a witness to God’s miracles on earth. During the first feeble months of spring semester, I feel my mind, body, and soul deteriorating under the pressure of rapidly approaching midterms, merciless wind chills, and 4:00 p.m. sunsets. But when Friday eve draws close to the midnight hour—the chilliest, rattiest baddie-est hour of all — I find myself in a predicament. To quote Hamlet, to roll Sig Chi or to not roll Sig Chi? 

On the one hand, “la que no es puta no disfruta” — my mom’s sound advice that “if you’re not being a hoe, you’re not having fun” — and I only have to convince myself that I’m not actually cold for 10 minutes until the alcohol warms my body to bearable temperatures. Plus, I’ll continue raising my body heat by getting down to Pitbull — that’s a given.

Buuuttttttt… hypothetically, I could also just stay home. I know I haven’t gone out in three weeks, but the puzzle on the common room table is starting to look pretty enticing again, and hypothetically, it would only take me another hour and a half to finish. Somehow, the familiar sewage smell in the hallway wisely wafts away, and the atmosphere of the common room becomes warmer and cozier than ever. I could change into my blanket hoodie and have a night in, hypothetically of course.

When the wind gets too chilly and walking to Fence is starting to sound like the first of the labors of Hercules, I’ve got Pinterest boards filled with vibes and ingredients for the perfect night in. And hypothetically, you could follow along.

I like to think I’m a simple woman: give me a blanket, some snacks, and a silly movie or a couple of cat compilations on YouTube, and I’m all yours. It’s all the fun of going out to a party, except without the drinking or intense socializing or somehow ending up on top of the Leo steps and wondering how I got there in the first place. I can microwave a hot chocolate concoction of goodness and warmth, and I can invite friends over for wholesome debriefs on our adored bean bag, “Mickey Mouse,” or I can invite my boyfriend for a different kind of snuggles. 

I can turn on “Titanic” or restart the “Twilight” saga again — or just repeat the baseball scene from the first movie—or if I’m feeling weird and anguished, Bojack Horseman will always be waiting. If you want to get into some special fun with your significant other, though, I highly recommend watching “Moana.” Sure, sure, it may not be anything close to sexy — except maybe for Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson’s voice — but for some reason that I still have yet to comprehend, boyfriends have a special affinity toward this movie. Last weekend, my suitemate’s partner recited the entirety of the movie’s soundtrack alongside its dialogue. Yes, even “Shiny.” Especially “Shiny.”

On other occasions where I’ve felt more unhinged, I’ve also invited (coerced) my suitemates to play “Just Dance” with me! It just takes three syllables to get your limbs moving: “Ras-pu-tin.” For the low price of free-ninety-nine, you get stellar cardio, swanky bops, and a riveting Slavic dance. Ignore the fact that you may not be able to walk for the next few days if you manage to hit all the moves.

And if you’re really feeling productive — ahem, ahem, deranged — you could update your LinkedIn! I can’t say I’ve done this one, but I’ll leave that to you. Conversely, you can stalk people from your high school on LinkedIn, but make sure you turn off your public visibility first before your ex-best friend sees you were stalking his MechE program. Moving on.

I can draw and doodle and call my mom and rant to her about insignificant details in my day-to-day life, or I can get started on a painting that I’m never actually going to finish. And I can eat leftovers from the fridge and let my eyes droop into sleep, so long as I make sure I submit my Daily Theme first.

As much as I loathe the complete numbness of the cold, the calf cramps I get from trying to not fall on the ice, the appalling amount of Vaseline I have to apply before leaving the house, and not being able to smile during the winter because my teeth get too cold, I welcome chilling inside sometimes. Pun intended.