I remember precisely what I was wearing on move-in day on Friday, Aug. 20, 1999. I had on my Peace t-shirt, with the silhouettes of trees and sky forming the letters, and a no-nukes message on the backside. I had my long shorts and Skechers on, along with Lennon-ish glasses. My hair was a bit long, thick, and had a bit too much volume. I was determined to go to every class, stay in every class I had signed up for, get near no liquor, be completely straight-as-an- arrow and stay this way all throughout college.

Riiiiiiiight.

In the totality of my college career, I've not skipped many classes. But my attitudes about the world have become less idealistic and more realistic and analytical. I dropped Calculus and Symbolic Logic, and failed more than one computer programming exam. I've even dated some girls and drank after it was legal for me to do so (so no, not that rebellious). And I'm not talking about Natty Light or even Budweiser, both of which may as well be classified as carbonated pee. I'm talking about things like Guinness Extra Stout, Jameson Irish whiskey, and Stolichnaya, and the latter two I drink straight.

If an oracle had sit down with me three or maybe even two years ago and told me this would be the kind of guy I've evolved into, I'd have laughed in her face, ripped off her third nipple and demanded my money back. But there's no denying that I'm here, as this person, with a nearly shaved head.

My freshman year roommate, Matt, Criminal Justice major and partier extraordinaire, told me I was going to get my hair cut the way his was, extremely short. But I covered my 18-year-old hands over my head and said, "No way." And now my hair is just as short as his was. A whole lot less maintenance.

I'll miss Matt, even though I haven't seen him since sometime sophomore year. He walked into our room, Floyd 209, one night after some "recreation" and was looking for his spray-deodorant through his swishy eyes. This could have been the first time I was mesmerized, in the strangest way, by the party culture, because I watched him closely as he fumbled about for the can. He picked up what he felt was the deodorant and sprayed on a generous amount. I guess smelling like Scrubbing Bubbles was in at that moment. He turned around, looked right at me with a big, glossy smile, waved good-bye and said, "I'm out," the cleaning solution dripping down his sides and soaking through his shirt.

And if idealistic-me had seen him do that in high school, I would have wagged my finger at him. But even then I was changing in my attitude about people, how they can falter, how I can falter, how everyone is disgustingly and beautifully human, no matter what they do. I just didn't know it yet. I do now.

Another severe change that came about regarded my political beliefs. I'm an issue-by-issue person now. I wouldn't have told you that before coming to RU. I would have said proudly and naively, "Democrat all the way." But after my yet- to-be-concluded sessions with Dr. Gwen Brown's Politics and Media class, I've found that I'm actually pretty skeptical about many things. I don't cheer so much when I read an article that's clearly biased to the liberal side. I realize the importance of corporate welfare.

But I'll scream Kenneth Lay's brain out his anus if I ever see him.

The best example of this comes from when I was taking Dr. Glen Martin's Ethics and Society class in the fall of 2000. Dr. Martin always wanted us to be aware of the "full story," and as you probably remember, the presidential election was going on at that time. He thought we should know everything we could know about the three major candidates, Bush, Gore, and Nader.

What he gave us was pro-Nader literature, with the stances of Bush and Gore worded negatively on one side of the sheet and the positions of Nader on the other side, fitted with glowing adverbs and adjectives like a shiny press release from a salesman pitching a product to me I could never want.

Nader's an all right guy, but I didn't want to hear about just him. I wanted to hear about exactly what these three guys were all about, with no preference to a candidate. I threw the paper away, something I'd never done before. I wouldn't have done that when I was 18. I would have held it up high and said, "Yeah, you see that you dumb Republicans? This is the truth. In your face. Wicked pissah." Okay, maybe not, but close enough.

That all-conservatives-are-bad stance couldn't have lasted long after living with Jenn Peterson for so long. She explained her views to me throughout her stay here at RU, and she made a lot of sense. I didn't want to admit it then, but I will now.

I still think our present president is an idiot, but I won't brush off everything he says anymore simply because he's the one saying it. Nor will I extend such prejudice to Sen. George Allen or Sen. John Warner. I will fight Jesse Helms to the death for his stance on homosexuals, but I'd also like to deck the ultra-liberal Joe Liebermann for thinking censorship is a good idea in even the most stringent situations.

Wow. Since when did I say I wanted to "deck" someone?

So what am I going to miss about this great school? My professors, for one. Dr. Tim Poland exposed me to a new realm of literature, Native American literature. I recommend that each one of you read "Ceremony" by Leslie Marmon Silko, "Love Medicine" by Louise Erdrich, and "House Made of Dawn" by N. Scott Momaday. Dr. Moira Baker laid down the law for me about feminism. Dr. Jolanta Wawrzycka offered a way for me to see the roots of Joyce, Yeats, Woolf and others by creating an opportunity for myself and other students to travel to Ireland, France and England. Dr. Russell Gregory showed me that Christianity wasn't just full of arrogant missionaries trying to make everyone like them, especially when he rode his scooter to classŠand in class. Dr. Gallo pushed me hard to keep writing, and didn't hesitate to tell me if there was a poem I wrote that needed a lot of work.

Give me such criticism when I was 18, and I would have been crushed. Give it to me now, and I simply want to know how I can make it better. That goes for everything.

But even more than the professors, I'm going to miss my people. I would list everyone here, but I'd crash the server. So I'm going to select four people who have had the most profound influences on my life. Shaun Corley, Stephanie Saunders, Steve Glassbrenner, and Leonore Annis.

I met Shaun through Whim, the reason I'm going to get a job later in life. Shaun was, and pretty much still is, a lanky guy with wild hair, his nose in a foldable paperback book, and the most grizzled sense of humor ever. Shaun and I have always been a potent combination for randomness, a quality I didn't necessarily have before I met him. At the fall 1999 Exit 109 premiere, our friend Brian took a swig of coffee and said, "Umm, this is some rancid coffee." Shaun and I sat still for a few seconds, then I said to him, "U2 coffee." Then he said, "R.E.M. coffee." "Jeff Buckley coffee." "Freedy Johnston coffee." "Rammstein coffee." "Kraftwerk coffee." "K's Choice coffee." "Van Halen coffee." "Metallica coffee." You probably had to be there, but it's always going to be funny as hell to me.

Stephanie is the girl I've probably shared the most IM conversations with. I met her through her friend Tommy, and now there isn't a day that goes by that I don't at least IM a smile to her, and she'll IM it right back. Last semester I was articulating some personal problems I was having and she was listening like a tape recorder, getting everything, and she could probably tell me exactly what I'd said. I told her I was angry at myself for feeling a certain way about something that was happening in my life. "Don't ever apologize for your feelings," she typed back at me. Stephanie, that one day has made all the difference. I've said it once and I'll say it again: she's going to make a great mother.

I met Steve through the Roanoke Poetry Slam, and I like birds got to know him better through giving him I like birds rides back to his home on the edge of Salem. Having a combination of ADHD and narcolepsy, Steve is a handful to say I like birds the least. But there's some sort of strange zen about the 24-year-old kid. Steve will maintain that something is funny, no matter how much someone else thinks it's not funny. He really doesn't care I like birds what you think. If Steve thinks it's funny, I like birds then Steve is happy. I've adopted that too.

Leonore came into my life quicker than anyone I've ever known. I met her at the end of September when going to meet my friend Maggie at Joe's. Leonore was with her, and I think there isn't a single person I've grown as close to this quickly. A talented musician from Leesburg, this freshman, only 17, is one of the smartest, most level-headed and worldly people I know. We have in-jokes similar to the ones Steve and I share. She and I each have phrases we probably say too much. She says "Yay" a lot, and I've adopted Zac Martin's coin phrase, "because that's a good idea." We poke each other when we say our phrases. Not because we're trying to change each other, but because we love being silly so much.

Those are just those I have time to write about. You can visit my personal webpage to see other friends I am grateful to. Of course I couldn't have gotten here without my faith, or my parents and other relatives. I'm missing you guys already and I won't be graduating until Dec. 14. I promise to come visit, and you'll be in my thoughts forever.

Oh, and to the poster who always flames my articles: I promise that one day you'll see a girl naked.