Goodbye, and good luck

by Beacon Staff • April 25, 2007

I'm getting used to being carded at bars (and sometimes for a R-rated movie), but it feels like after such an eventful college life, I'd be showing more physical signs of age, barring, of course, those affecting my liver.,Nearly four years after being hastily thrown in a laundry cart and wheeled up to my Little Building room by overzealous orientation leaders, I still look ridiculously young.

I'm getting used to being carded at bars (and sometimes for a R-rated movie), but it feels like after such an eventful college life, I'd be showing more physical signs of age, barring, of course, those affecting my liver.

Eventful seems a light way to describe my life since September 2003, when I, within two weeks, both moved to Emerson College and desperately wanted to leave. Thinking back on it, there's been more than a few times I've thought about throwing in the towel here.

But then I think of all those times I would've missed.

Like those times spent staying up late freshman year for no reason except because I could.

Or stealthily sipping swill in the LB, carefully avoiding the well-tuned senses of RAs-and anything that could induce vomiting.

Or those nights spent slaving over a computer screen in The Beacon office until the wee hours of the morning, writing, editing and bonding with people who daily teach me more about myself as I try to teach them the sanctity of capitalizing "Dumpster" and hating on serial commas.

I'm someone who wants to believe I've grown up a lot since 2003, but I'm still not sure that face staring back from the mirror every morning is the right match.

When I cross that stage at the Wang next month, my degree won't be for nothing. I've learned a lot.

I've learned a ton about public safety. To wit: my first off-campus house caught on fire, but that was only after the furnace exploded and a rat lodged itself in a hole in our pantry wall. That was all before I got mugged, my most recent apartment got robbed and my car got its window smashed.

I've learned the power of the written word, the value of being an ethical journalist and an honest friend and, most recently and importantly, that despite many doubtful moments, I've been at the right college the whole time.

I've moved seven times since freshman year, but now I'm again searching for home.

For once, though, I'm wishing I could just stay put.