After successfully avoiding this moment for my entire life, I now have no place left to hide. The time has come to face and accept my inevitable fate.
I'm not a kid anymore.
Not only am I not a kid anymore, I'm now what I used to refer to as a grown-up.
I'm not ready to grow up yet. I even don't know what I want to be.
I suppose I could still be anything, that is anything except an engineer, a doctor, a statistician or a chemist. Yep, I can do almost anything with my degree in, oh yeah, history. Crap.
Oh well, I guess things could be worse. I'm lucky to have been able to attend college and major in a subject I've always enjoyed. Am I going to be making $80,000 a year by January? No. Does that bother me? A little.
Surprisingly enough, however, I'm not too worried about what the future has in store. I'm excited to move on with my life, although I don't yet know exactly where I'm headed. Despite not having any solid job prospects, I have narrowed my decision to two possibilities: I will either be leaving the state or leaving the country.
While the best years of my life may still be ahead, at this moment I might be watching the warm sun of my glory days set for the last time. If this, indeed, happens to be the case, I won't complain and I won't be sad; college was everything I hoped it would be.
Looking back, I'm happy to find I don't have any tangible feelings of resentment or of squandered opportunity. I made decisions and stuck by them. I experienced victory and defeat, triumph and tragedy, love and love lost.
I learned how to contain and defeat adversaries, enemies and demons. I learned about life, about people and about trust. I learned the real meaning of friendship.
I went to some great parties over the years. For every good party, though, there were at least 25 beer and sausage festivals. As parties go, however, I was in attendance at the greatest party in CSU history. Jell-o-Rama was held Sept. 25, 1999, in the basement of Sigma Chi. Never again will there be a party like the Jell-o party.
No, I never saw sorority girls having a naked pillow fight, nor did I witness Sonny Lubick at Hughes Stadium filled to capacity. I did, however, attend 100 percent of CSU's triumphant football victories over CU.
So, as I wrap up for the last time, there are a few folks to whom I'd like to express my gratitude. First and foremost, I 'd like to thank everyone at the Collegian for putting up with me and giving me a weekly opportunity to publish my thoughts.
I would like to thank Mark Koepsell for his outstanding performance as director of Greek Life. Constantly absorbing wrath from above and below, Mark might have the toughest job on campus, and he's still doing it long after I would have thrown in the towel.
I owe a debt of gratitude to Anne Hudgens, the director of Campus Activities, for helping me straighten out my life and then for believing in me and my ability to lead a group of my peers.
In the 36 semesters of my undergraduate career, I only had two roommates. Kevin and Jason, thanks for living with my stinky self.
To my brethren over at Sigma Chi, guard well, watch out for each other, and holla atcha boy. Holla.
Least, but not quite last, I'd like to thank Mike and Tony at DP Dough for not firing me. Pimping calzones has been fun, except for the times when it wasn't. Republicans are bad tippers.
And thanks to my mom and dad for bankrolling my college career, for always being there, and for not selling me to the circus. I love you.
And to my loyal fans, I'd like to thank both of you for your continued support. I wish you the best of luck.
Joe Marshall is a graduating senior. This is his last column.