Notes from Crew Quarters: Winter Is Here!
Winter has reached Marquette, and as the Passages North crew navigates through the first few weeks of snow, they reflect on this week's question: How do you make it through the U.P. winters?
Sara Ryan, Associate Poetry Editor
Covering myself in a blanket made of cats. And lots of swear words.
Matt Ftacek, Associate Poetry Editor
The smug satisfaction I feel knowing I can go further south and loudly ask, "You call THIS winter?"
Ashely Adams, Associate Nonfiction Editor
Jacque Boucher, Spoken Word Poetry
Exercise, lots of soups, and liberal understanding of the true definition of "naps."
Alex Clark, Associate Nonfiction Editor
Vitamin D and so.much.coffee.
John LaPine, Associate Nonfiction Editor
Caffeine in the mornings and alcohol at night!
I want to learn how to ski this winter because I've never done any winter sports, I want to try to get outside during our 3 hours of sunlight, and it would be an amazing way to get to class.
Deziree’ Brown, Associate Poetry Editor
Lots of Xbox.
Rachael Belmore, Associate Nonfiction Editor
Sheer willpower. I wrap myself in a jacket, no gloves, no hat, no scarf, and emerge angrily from the balmy cocoon of my apartment. I plow straight through the snow drifts that try in vain to stop my advance. "Come at me, bro!" I scream into the blasting wind, shaking my snow-covered fist in the arctic air. Reaching my car, I wrench the door open, savoring the death-crack of the ice seal I've broken yet again. Heater full-blast to campus, I can almost see through the windshield I've refused to clean off by the time I arrive. I brace myself for the next battle: the Icy Parking Lot of Doom.
Jen Howard, Editor-in-Chief
Winter is a gift. You get to put on weight, and pjs at 5:00 some days, and waking up in the dark feels productive and wholesome even if it's not technically that early. Also: a new season of The Bachelor always helps.
Stanley Hudson, Associate Fiction Editor
I stumble around falling into snow banks and generally cast my loathing out like the heat of my snow-marred hatred will keep me warm -- it doesn't though, not for long, never for long, and eventually I collapse and pray for a quick death to a cruel deity that picks me up, pats me on the butt, and proclaims, with his booming, merciless voice: "you know, hot cocoa is a thing. You should try it out."
Willow Grosz, Associate Fiction Editor
Coffee, gym, coffee, routine, coffee, snowventures(!), coffee, long underwear, coffee, wine, winewinewine, chocolate, crying all the time.