Brad Basker’s valiant return

Over the past few months, I’ve found myself in the most awkward of positions: I have to be a responsible adult.

It may not seem like a lot for some of you, but it’s been a rough ride. For a guy who spends half of his time on Mars and the other half wishing he was in Brazil, it’s pretty surreal when someone tells you that you have to keep up when your bills are due.

But as I came into maturity, I found that, not only can you not depend on people all the time, but that if something needs to be done in your life, you are the one who has to do it. So many people at this school, and indeed the world, lack the ambition and motivation to succeed in what they love. Why should they care about your personal objectives when they have none of their own?

In discovering all of this, I had to face the hard reality that all of us must face. We are our own worst enemy. Face it. You can’t blame someone because you got smashed last night because you caught an STD or because you were caught peeing in the fountain. Sure the booze has an effect, but the majority of the troubles we endure start from a lack of personal tenacity. We’re often not the one making decisions in our own lives.

Some of you may say, “No way man, I’m G-D Independent!” Well, you may be, but the influence of our peers goes a lot further than we give credit.

Say you come back from Houston one weekend and you’re determined that this week is the week. This will be the week that you don’t have a 40s night. This is the week you won’t be caught on camera at a party, the pictures of which will be tactlessly blazoned on Facebook.

You’re going to go to Kaldi’s, buy a caramel macchiato, sit in the corner and be productive. But that Sunday night you get that call.

“Hey man. Do you want to get obliterated?”

Your answer is yes. Of course! Why not? Delicious Coronas for you and yours! Before you know it, a seizure of bright lights dance across Sam Houston Ave. and you’re wishing you had read that damn book for class.

It doesn’t even have to be alcohol as a distraction. Anything that keeps you from achieving your purpose is a hindrance and must be eliminated. That includes the part of us that doesn’t want to upset people and wants everyone to like us. It’s a tough reality to comprehend but not everyone is your friend and a lot of people just to bring you down.

So what do you do?

You’ve got to close all the doors that lead to your distractions. You know you like girls who are down with the brown, so don’t have them around. It’s not a bad thing at all, it’s just a matter of knowing your weaknesses and fortifying the openings.

So after you’ve gotten rid of what you know will get you off track, what is there to do?

They say there is nothing to do in Huntsville, but I’ve found that is not true. Truth be told there aren’t enough entertainment outlets in this town to offer a healthy alternative to quarter nights, so most people just beer pong the nights away. You’ve got to find what you love, and who you are, before the Jack Daniels does it for you.

This time last year I was most likely drunk everyday. Last night I went to eat at Humphrey’s and continued my journey into the French literary styling of George Sand’s Indiana.

I was sitting right in Huntsville but my mind was in the salons of Brie. I then played music for what seemed like forever at lizards, which is one of the things I love most.

After that, I retired undercover to read with wonder how Monsieur Raymon de Ramiere seduced the married Madame Indiana Delmare.

“But it was not passion that rendered him eloquent, it was eloquence that made him passionate.”

The satisfaction of a line like that satiates my soul more than any kegger ever did.

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