G'darn. Since the last post? The Hunt, Halloween, the Election, Bodies... so much to cover!

The Hunt, as expected, was crazy. After the teams were set free at 4 PM with this year's objectives, I went over to Rob's to meet up with everyone who was judging. It turned out that one of their housemates decided not to judge, so I took his spot. At 7 PM, we went to Borders, where, at precisely 7:13, the brief, entertaining, and disruptive zombie crawl began. The judges were on the second floor, overlooking the crowd of moaning, stumbling participants through holes in newspapers. The entire scene was astonishing.

Judging started at 8 PM. Hannah, Olive, and I were responsible for two teams, the first of which was boring, homophobic, and lacking in creativity. Every member of the second, on the other hand, managed to complete the task "get naked without us noticing." One of them successfully wore his entire wardrobe for "wear your wardrobe"; another calling her dad and telling him that she got kicked out of school and arrested for "shame your family"; another called her father for "ask a parent for oral sex advice." After we were done, there was an unruly but very successful team still being judged downstairs. After they were done, it turned into a quick dance party before we all went to Alpine for the final decision making and celebrating.

Halloween was only a week later; a week consumed by dyeing, and sewing for my mummy costume. I carved a pumpkin on Tuesday, which was pretty shriveled by Friday. I also watched a lot of horror movies on TV, which helped me get all of my sewing done. Since Friday was Halloween, Friday was also Moorebid Ball, the annual dance party–named for Moore Hall, the residential building that used to house the event but no longer exists–which took place on all three floors of Case Center. Like last year, the second floor was packed with sweaty, grinding bodies, but the first was hardly occupied at all. David and I took advantage and danced like maniacs, exploring negative space and pushing our bodies beyond their limits. I slept like a baby that night and spent the next few days really, really sore.

Four days passed. During these four days, I found myself in a severe emotional funk. By November fifth, I realized that my troubles were manifestations of my anxiety about the election. As you can imagine (or can relate to), the ass-kicking victory of Barack Obama over John McCain inspired excitement and rejoicing on campus and downtown. At around 9 PM on election night, a large group of friends and acquaintances gathered at Rob's house as the polls began closing. Because the announcers practically guaranteed an Obama win as states like Ohio, Pennsylvania, and Iowa turned blue, I was afraid that the decisive moment would be anticlimactic. But when the countdown to the closing of polls in the west coast ended with an announcement that Obama would be the next president, the room exploded. After hugging everyone, I found myself in tears on the couch, watching the crowd in Chicago celebrating.

Everyone on campus moved to the green, where patriotic chanting and singing overtook a mass of ecstatic students. (Skidmore's final vote came out to be something like 556 for Obama, 23 for McCain, so the response was not at all surprising.) Olive and I, in tears, rushed to the SPA when we heard rumors that Obama's speech was set to begin, and were soon joined by friends who had stormed the library.

Not surprisingly, the speech kept me bawling. It's a really incredible feeling to be proud of your country after growing up to think that patriotism can only be faced with cynicism and bitterness. To see a man who embodies the American dream, the principles of freedom, liberty, equality, and most of all opportunity was overwhelming. (Even now, I get choked up thinking about it. Golly...) To see someone who believes in America's greatness, not because of what it is or what it has been, but because of what it can become... it all hit hard after the election was over. I was pissed off when people suggested that "racism is over" now that we have a black president-elect and was even more pissed to find that Prop 8 had passed in California. One step forward, two steps back, I suppose. But I am so happy to see that America is going to be represented by someone who shows that we practice what we preach. A president who isn't the typical John, George, William, who will serve as an inspiration to all Americans. A president who will restore America's prestige in the global stage and make our country a beacon of diplomacy, equality, and opportunity.

As you can see, I was very emotionally invested in the election. Imagine what would have happened to me if Obama lost...

The weekend after, Olive's dad, Bru, visited on a branch from a business trip. On Saturday night, Olive, Allie, Bru, and I had a sandwich dinner at Legends before going to a live show in Northwoods, which we all enjoyed immensely. John's hardcore band, Zombies Did It, played after a slightly less destructive set by a two person band whose name I can't remember. It had been a while since I moshed properly and I loved every violent second of it. Unfortunately, the concert got broken up by Campus Safety halfway into their set, but it was fun while it lasted. Bru apparently had a great weekend and we were sad to see him go.

Yesterday, Tess, Sarah, and I went on the Honor's Forum trip to see the Bodies Exhibition in New York City. It was incredible. I especially liked the circulatory system exhibit, which was created by injecting plastic into vein and artery systems and dissolving the organic materials surrounding the passages. The plastic molds were suspended in clear cases full of water and displayed in a darkly lit room. There were a ton of awesome displays, which I won't detail here. My moral discomfort was beaten by my fascination while looking at the exhibit, although it still makes me uncomfortable to think that a lot of those bodies were healthy when they stopped living.

After we got out of the exhibit, we had a couple of hours before the bus left. We rushed up to Chinatown for lunch at Joe's Shanghai. After lunch, in one of Chinatown's shitty little souvenir shops, I noticed a tiny plastic box shoved under a shelf with about ten tiny turtles looking miserable, floating inside. In a fit of pity, I asked if they were for sale. Showing any curiosity apparently meant there was no turning back. They insisted it was a great deal, that they were easy to take care of, that I should probably take two. I regretted my decision as soon as I made it, but now the little turtles were free from that tiny crowded box where they would have no doubt died.

"Oh shit," I thought as soon as I was holding a plastic box containing my own little turtles. "What was I thinking?" "I wasn't thinking." "Shit." It's unusual for me to make such rash, uninformed decisions, and I realized why. While a few people warned me that the turtles spread salmonella, that was the least of my worries. (The reason selling turtles under 4" as pets is illegal is because infants will put them in their mouths, which heightens the risk of contracting the bacteria from their digestive systems.) Upon getting home, I did some research and found out that these baby turtles, if cared for properly, would grow up to be the size of a shoebox. They would require a tank (at least 20 gallons at baby size) with a filtration system, a water heating system, and basking area with a UV light. I knew that releasing them into the wild was not an option; I would much rather euthanize them than do that.

By morning, I decided that there was no way I could invest enough energy, money, and time to give these animals the ideal life they require to survive. At work this morning, I discussed my problem with friends and decided that freezing them would be the most painless way to end their tragic lives (for all involved). Fortunately for the turtles, Paul, one of the dining hall's full-time employees, joined the conversation briefly and, after about twenty minutes, came back to tell me that he had a bunch of tanks at home and would love to take the turtles off my hands.

Tragedy... averted!

I'm really disappointed that nothing is being done about these turtle vendors. They pressure countless people into buying these creatures without even suggesting that proper care for them will cost at least $200 to start. And while I managed to find someone who can make the turtles' lives better, I regret supporting an industry that leads to the deaths of thousands of baby turtles as a result of neglect, mistreatment, and disease. I understand now why I avoid making instinctual purchases. Buyer's remorse FROM HELL.

Ungh. So that was draining. I'll ask Paul how they're doing from time to time. He said he'd raised turtles and snakes before. He won't be moving around and has money and space for them, which automatically makes him a more capable owner than I could possibly be.

I have to finish a big piece for Drawing by tomorrow afternoon. It is making me a sad.