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COLUMN: Confessions Of A Snowflake

Outside The Lines

Asst. Arts & Review Editor

Published: Wednesday, February 19, 2014

Updated: Wednesday, February 19, 2014 22:02

Hey you. Yeah I’m talking to you, student sitting on the fourth floor of O’Neill gazing out the window instead of doing your calculus homework. You’re staring at my friends and me falling from the sky, aren’t you? Aside from reminding you that it’s not polite to stare, I’d like to answer two questions that you’re probably thinking at this very moment:

1) “If you guys keep falling at this rate, will you get us out of class? Or work?”

Fat chance. We already got you one snow day—do you really think we can get you two? Let’s be a little realistic. Next question.

2) “Fine. If you’re not going to get me out of class, then I hate you. You’re cold and slippery, and you mess up my eyeliner. Will you ever stop? Can you just go away?”

No. We are a product of nature, and we will not cease to exist just because we are inconveniencing you. Your angry tweets will do nothing to combat us, and your shovels and snowplows are only temporary solutions. In case you are unaware, Miley Cyrus’ song was actually written about us. We can’t stop, and we won’t stop either.

It seems like you college students have a love-hate relationship with us. Usually the “hate” part lasts a lot longer than the “love,” and you know what? I’m not going to just let you insult the rest of my species and me without fighting back. Boston College, we know that you love us a lot more than you claim. We are pretty much your artistic muses, and life as you know it would be nothing without us.

First of all, we have the power to distract you from almost any situation. We captivate your attention in the middle of class, and we inspire awe because of our fluffy, powdery texture. As we fall slowly, or rapidly, we hypnotize you. Seduce you. And despite your attempts, you just cannot resist us.

We also dictate your fashion choices. Those Bean boots that you people are obsessed with? Yeah, those probably wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for us. Winter accessories and earmuffs just look better when they are lightly dusted with us. We make your hair look angelic, and we add a bit of flush to your cheeks. Why go to the makeup counter in your local mall when you can get a free makeover, courtesy of Mother Nature herself?

You use us to satisfy your artistic inclinations. We act as the clay for the amateur sculptor, allowing you to craft snowmen, igloos, turkeys, and hippopotamuses galore (and we applaud you for getting so creative). You take “Impressionism” to a literal level by diving into our fluffy blankets and making snow angel impressions. We populate your Instagrams, we make your precious Gasson more beautiful (if that’s even possible), and we serve as the perfect backdrop for your newest “fun in the snow” profile picture. How can you say that you hate us if you cannot stop taking our picture? It’s borderline creepy, and we wish you would choose another subject to obsess over. Like Liam Neeson, perhaps.

Students, you also take advantage of us for your own political motives, and that makes us a bit sad. You use us for evil by shaping us into balls and throwing them at each other, and we serve as protective forts in your fierce battles on the Quad. You throw blue and red liquids onto our pristine white coating to further your campaigns, as if a simple sign isn’t good enough anymore. From a quick glance, we thought someone had been murdered, or that blood had been shed in those “snowball” wars—but, upon approaching the surface of the earth, we realized it was just some students using us as substitutes for poster board. One of my friends was caught in the fire, and she doesn’t think blue or red are her colors. So let’s not do that again, okay?

Finally, music would just not be the same without us. “White Christmas,” “Let it Snow,” “Frosty the Snowman,” “Winter Wonderland” … come on, people! And your beloved Frozen soundtrack would be nothing without our existence. You can’t ask someone if she wants to build a snowman if there’s no snow, and the storm will not rage on if we’re not there to cause it.

You sing about us, take our pictures, and perform strange rituals to summon our arrival (we know about the spoons under pillows and pajamas worn inside out, and we think it’s pathetic). It sounds to me like you worship us, and therefore you simply cannot say that you hate us. You love us because we inspire you and provide an aesthetic experience unlike any other. So please, give us the love we deserve—because these mixed signals are just not healthy for our relationship.

Besides, we heard you sing the truth: the cold never bothered you anyway.

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