Keep it real, Sam Houston State University

I like to joke that I will be remembered long after I graduate. Bronze statues will be erected, days will be celebrated in my honor, and my columns will be anthologized by the Texas Review Press. My co-workers at the Houstonian even say, “It will be so weird without you here.”

All of the great times at Sam Houston, and the events I’d sooner forget. . .

They are a flash in the pan, and nothing more. What do I remember now that I did my senior year of high school, and what will I remember in four years what I did this fall?

I remember the first people I met at Sam, Brandon and Taylor, shared a meal at Belvin with me. In Jackson-Shaver, Terrance, who lived across the hall, tried to teach me to dance. With Kevin and Ryan, I would dream up screenplays for movies and soap operas.

There was a 9:30 Chemistry class that I always skipped, and still made a B. I would have failed Philosophy of Religion if not for Chris and Stephanie.

The Starbucks in Southpaw paid me good money to flirt. During my breaks, I would read Brad Basker’s nonsense in the Houstonian. Eventually, I started sending them columns. Eventually, they started printing them.

Rachael, then the Viewpoints editor, now the production manager, asked me if I wanted her job. I did not. She bugged me until I broke. Thus was I birthed into the Houstonian, by Rachael Gleason.

I will miss the Houstonian like I miss my November beard. They both itched like hell and kept my girlfriend away, but there will be separation anxiety. To all of you I can remember (and please don’t feel bad if I forgot):

Christi: You have been the most patient and supportive editor I could ask for. Thank you for bearing with me.

Jenny: Your futile attempts at combating my narcissism have kept me entertained during times of stress. Also, your paleness shields you from vision in the sun.

Kristina: I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve always admired your focus on your work and ability to improve in the few places you needed to.

Kevin: Thank you for letting me run reviews on your page. When I finish this letter, you can finally be the best writer on staff. Seriously, I admire your articulate and thought-out beliefs, no matter how crazy they are.

Thomas: [Clipart not found] You have been the most challenging and entertaining person to work with. Start writing for the Onion for Chrissake!

Daniel: Thanks for driving me back to the hotel at TIPA. I can’t tell you how important that was. Thanks, man.

Meagan: When you usurp me, I know you will do an excellent job. You should be crying by now.

Jenny-Z: Consider going into the business of stopping bullets, with skin as thick as yours. Don’t forget to kick ass at U of H.

Brad: Together, we fought an epic lightsaber battle across campus and ate lunch with the president. Enough said.

And most of all, Siobhan: Without your enduring love and support, my skeleton may well have leapt from my body and I’d be lying in a pool of flesh and organs. I hope you’ll be able to cook without your tipsy boyfriend pinching you from behind.

Somewhere I found time to go to Dr. Pease’s film festival, take Shakespeare from Dr. Krienke and copy-edit manuscripts until my eyes bled for Dr. Kaukonen. My graduate school applications are still pending, and my graduation status is dependent on the goodwill of my loving and beautiful professors.

These are the things I remember, and they are dear to me now.

If statues are erected, they will be sandcastles. My columns will collect in the Newton Gresham library and be forgotten. The strangeness of my absence from the paper will pass with the first deadline night.

Keep it real, Sam Houston State.

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