About two years ago, I went to a concert at Metro, 3730 N. Clark St., to see one of my favorite bands at the time. I was 18 years old, wore electric blue tights with a pair of Chuck Taylors and couldn’t wait to dance and get sweaty with other underagers like myself. I was so excited to actually see a band I loved at a great venue in the city without having to track down a fake ID just so I could be admitted into a show, since Chicago venues seemed to shun underage crowds at concerts.
I’ve always wanted a column. In my cocky naivete, I felt that my own musings about things like street corner preachers and the idea of reclaiming the Hitler moustache as an acceptable style of facial hair as a way of removing it’s stigma deserved to be shared with the masses who read The Chronicle. However, I’m not a word person, and my opinions oftentimes should not be shared with everyone. (Sometimes, not be shared with anyone.) To those who have listened to all my rants, tangents and moans: Thanks. This includes, but is not limited to, all of my teachers, those in my classes, people I work with, friends, roommates and occasionally random strangers I sit next to on the el.
When I first started college I thought, “This won’t be so hard.” I signed up for classes at a typical state school and began to map out the next four years in my head. I would follow the recommended class schedule and get my degree—cut and dry, no problem. But when I realized how much I hated my school choice, I made a conscious decision that I needed to do something bigger with my life.
If you would have asked me years ago if I’d ever be graduating from college, I would have said no. My entire previous experience with school was nothing short of miserable. Now I’m steadily approaching the day when I receive my diploma. But unlike all the films I’ve seen and stories I’ve heard, I feel a little peculiar. I feel no sense of pride, no overwhelming joy, not even a sense of accomplishment. Instead, I’m just merely relieved that it’s finally over.
After years of following the scholastic cycle—classes for a few months, spring break, summer vacation and back to school shopping—it’s finally ending. At least for some time anyway. Although I’ve been out of school before, this is a big step. I took a few years off from school in 2003 and moved to Chicago from Miami. I worked a menial customer service job for a couple of years and then decided to go back to school.
Well, that’s that. My ideal senior column would consist of those three simple words and nothing more. There’s no way I could summarize the gut-wrenching, glorious, heart-breaking, triumphant, extraordinary two years I’ve had at The Chronicle in one column. My memories at the paper play like an irrevocably damaged DVD, skipping past large chunks while pausing on individual moments. Here are a few of them…
New York Senator and presidential hopeful Hillary Clinton won the Indiana primary late on the night of May 6. But her margin was so slim (less than 2 percent, according to CNN) and Senator Barack Obama’s (D-Ill.) victory in North Carolina so dominating (14 percent) that the long-awaited death knell of the most resilient and damaging campaign in recent memory has finally been sounded.
I want to thank all of the students for their support. I hope that I served you adequately and represented your needs and opinions in my time as president. I also want to thank the SGA executive board, senators and members who worked hard to ensure the credibility of the SGA and helped me accomplish the goals I had set out to achieve for the students. I want to thank all the faculty, staff and administrators who played a role in teaching me and guiding me to be a better student and better person. I want all of the students of Columbia to know there are good people looking out for you and your needs at the highest levels of college governance.