TGIF at UW
Friday Evening, Allen Hall Lobby
It’s 6 PM on a Friday, and the sun is setting, casting long shadows on the ground. The imagined scent of dinner lures people on their way home, while inside, the soft fizz of sparkling water mixes with the murmur of casual conversation, creating a background buzz of disconnected sounds. After pondering the age-old questions of life — Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going? — my mind couldn’t shake the more immediate dilemma that had been nagging at me for the past hour and a half: What on earth am I doing here?
Normally, this space is a quiet lobby meant for studying. Before I found a stable spot in the lab to work, I often used to study here. As the CSE building, Allen Hall has a large open space with tables and chairs scattered across the hallways, offering a tranquil environment where students can focus. But tonight, I wasn’t here for studying.
The reason I found myself in the lobby was a seemingly innocent email, a TGIF invitation. When I first arrived on campus, I was curious about everything, eager to experience new things. So, when I saw the invitation for a TGIF event (with words like diamond painting I had never heard of), I shrugged it off and decided to attend. After all, why not?
A Diamond Painting Session
What followed was an hour and a half of… well, to be honest, rather monotonous work. The process of diamond painting involved picking up tiny rhinestones with a small stick, placing them on a circular base according to the pattern, and repeating this hundreds of times. I couldn’t help but reflect on how far removed this activity was from the high-tech, intellectually rigorous world I had imagined I would be part of in graduate school.
At first, I was baffled. Why would a group of PhD students, the future of technology, spend their Friday evening engaging in such a simple, repetitive task? But as I glanced around, I noticed the other participants seemed to genuinely enjoy themselves, exchanging cheerful comments like “This is so fun!” and “I really like it!” I swallowed my confusion and carried on with the task.
As I continued working, the mechanical repetition blurred my thoughts, and the space around me became a dizzying kaleidoscope of rhinestones. I couldn’t help but wonder: Am I really here, participating in this? The bizarre taste of unsweetened sparkling water added to the surreal feeling, leaving me unsure of how to engage with my surroundings. Yet, this odd moment in time made me question how easily we can get caught in the flow of things, even when the activity seems disconnected from our original expectations.
By the time I left, I had a coaster covered in rhinestones, and an even more profound question lingering in my mind: What was I doing here?
The Unexpected Tradition
One week later, I found myself back in the same place. The email was the same, the activities were similar, but somehow, I was drawn in again. This time, there were ice carving competitions, egg dropping contests, a game of telephone drawing, water coloring, and baking. Each event, though simple in itself, seemed to speak to the creative minds of the students organizing it. The fun was subtle but continuous — a reflection of the endless flow of ideas that never seemed to run dry.
The largest TGIF event I attended took place at the end of winter. The department organized a ski trip to the mountains. The bus wound its way up to the summit, where the landscape shifted dramatically from the springtime scenery below to a snow-covered winter wonderland at the top. As a first-time skier, I made a mistake and found myself on the blue run with no idea how to handle the steep slopes. When I froze at the top, a kind older student came to my rescue, guiding me step by step down the mountain. After the event, I didn’t master skiing, but I had gained something more: the courage to face new challenges, even when they seemed daunting at first.
More Than Just a Tradition
Later, I learned from a PhD student that TGIF wasn’t some prestigious acronym or grand title — it was simply a playful abbreviation for Thank God It’s Friday! In their words, it was a way for a group of PhD students, who spent most of their weekdays glued to their desks, to unwind and welcome the weekend. Every department at UW hosts their own TGIF events, with the school providing the venue and some basic snacks.
Not everyone participates in the games. Many students simply stop by, grab some snacks, and chat with friends, filling the space with laughter and conversation. Despite my struggles with their enthusiasm for sugar-free sparkling water and odd-flavored chips, I came to appreciate these moments of casual relaxation. It’s a cultural phenomenon that contrasts sharply with the intense work mentality I was used to.
For me, TGIF is a microcosm of a larger cultural shift — one where work-life balance isn’t an ideal to strive for but an ingrained way of life. Unlike my previous academic experience, where the boundaries between weekday and weekend were clear-cut, UW’s atmosphere taught me that time for both work and relaxation should be deliberately balanced. During the week, the study rooms and cafes are filled with focused students; but when the weekend comes, the offices empty out, leaving behind only the peaceful quiet of a well-earned break.
Reflections
As I left the last TGIF event, I realized that these little moments of joy, whether through making something with your hands or simply chatting over snacks, helped foster a sense of community. The events may have seemed trivial at first, but they revealed a different side of university life — one where it’s okay to step away from the pressure of work and embrace moments of light-hearted fun.
TGIF was a cultural experience that reshaped my understanding of life as a graduate student. The work-life balance isn’t just a philosophy here — it’s a practice woven into every aspect of daily life.
