President Stenger: A-

Harvey Stenger’s debut here has been a resounding success, mostly. His plans for the future of Binghamton University have been transparent and inclusive, which was a welcome departure from the opaqueness of administrations past.

BU’s president has also made a concerted effort to be more than just a faceless bureaucrat; it’s not an uncommon sight to see him walking, eating and otherwise socializing with students. He is affable and unpretentious, and seems genuinely interested in the students he meets — another encouraging sign for the future.

We hope Stenger stays on the receptive and student-oriented path he’s on. We find no fault with Stenger’s policies so far, but it’s too early for a comprehensive evaluation of his performance and a perfect “A,” just because we’re a touch withholding and there is always potential for improvement. We hope at this time next year — or maybe even next semester — we can give him full marks.

Spring Fling: B

While Timeflies and The Cataracs, the bands that opened for Passion Pit, were nothing to get excited about — in fact, we’re pretty sure The Cataracs were actually just pressing play on their iTunes — this year’s Spring Fling was actually a success, despite the jungle of red tape that could’ve dulled it down.

Passion Pit put on a great show, and the Peace Quad was a perfect venue for the carnival. We only wish the concert could have taken place there, too: the perfect weather and the Super Moon were too good to miss.

The Greek Life Investigation: C

While we commend the clampdown on Greek Life and the focus on ridding the system of hazing, we feel that the Dean of Students’ office displayed startling ineptitude in dealing with the reports, and in some ways acted almost as if the halt to pledging was as much of a surprise to them as it was to the students.

Many groups had no idea whether or not they were under investigation and the system the University devised to allow some groups to continue pledging — which took an oddly long period of time to get in place — aptly reminded us of “Double Secret Probation.”

The lack of communication shown by the dean’s office throughout the process is disheartening and the University has repeatedly declined to release any details about the current state of the investigation.

The Dean of Students’ office should not be exempt from the transparency President Stenger appears committed to and we hope the relationship between the University and Greek Life improves moving forward.

Commencement: C

We’re certainly glad to hear our peers speak at commencement about their experiences here. But it would be nice to have a relatively well-known, or at least entertaining, speaker as well. Syracuse got their famed alum Aaron Sorkin; Rochester Institute of Technology got Bill Nye the Science Guy.

We know BU isn’t necessarily the most prestigious college around, but come on, give us someone.

Instructor Evaluation Surveys: D-

The SOOT surveys are a waste of everyone’s time. Not only are they voluntary for students, but professors don’t have to hand them in to administration. And there is no indication that the marks students give teachers have any impact on their tenure here. Either make the surveys count for something or wait … there should be no other option. As of now, we don’t see a point to their existence.

This is my swan song. The whole kit and kaboodle. One last hurrah. The curtains have come down. My story ends here.

Now’s the end of this chapter. The tides are turning. The sun is setting. All good things must come to an end. Let bygones be bygones.

The last tango. My grand finale. It’s the bottom of the ninth. I’ve hit the two-minute warning. It’s all said and done.

I’m at a pivotal crossroads at my life. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. From here, my journey gets interesting. Every score has been settled. Every battle has been fought.

The finish line is within reach. I’ve put my blinders on. This is my race to run. Four years have come and gone in the blink of an eye. Soon, our time here will be up.

It’s time for the end. Where is the “good” in good-bye? Being strong sometimes means being able to let go. I’m torn between what was and what could be.

We only part to meet again. The song has ended, but the melody lingers on. There is a time for departure even when there is no certain place to go.

True good-byes are the ones never said or explained. Graduating college in four years is like leaving a party at 10:30. The important thing is the educational experience itself — how to survive it.

The direction in which education starts a man will determine his future. Education is the best provision for old age. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Graduation isn’t the closing of a door, it’s the opening of a thousand. Graduation is not the end, but the beginning of our bigger life and bigger challenges in life to face.

Some people think Graduation Day is the end. It’s just the beginning. From hard work comes great rewards. Education has bitter roots but bears sweet fruits.

The end of one step leads to the next. Graduation is the last step that will take you to where you always wanted to go. It is just the spark to a fire; in order to keep it going you have build up a stack of knowledge logs.

OK, enough with the introductory clichés. Now onto my farewell column.

My time at Binghamton University taught me that college is about having the freedom to do what you truly want to do and say what you really want to say, because you’ll blink your eyes as a terrified freshman and open them to find yourself in a green cap and gown.

Oh.

Whoops.

I’ve been asking around for some inspiration, but so far all I’ve gotten is more than a handful of “I have no idea”s.

I guess it’d be easy to write a cliché-riddled piece. Plenty of those have been written and have turned out OK. You know, tell my audience “not to be afraid to take risks” or “find something they feel really passionate about.” I hear it’s even more effective if you take a “Binghamton’s really not that bad” approach.

I’ll give it a try:

Well, this is it. My final column. My time here at Binghamton went even quicker than everyone told me it would, but these four years really have been the best of my life.

This place often gets a bad rap, but it’s not nearly as bad as people make it out to be. I love this place, and the best memories of my life came to be within this city’s limits.

College is what you make it out to be! Don’t be afraid to take risks and take advantage of what this great place has to offer — these four years go so much quicker than you think. Join a club, or play intramurals. Try some pasta at Lost Dog or take a hike in the Nature Preserve. Pledge a fraternity so you can stick your finger up someone’s butt and then pay them to be your friend.

Yikes, that went sour really fast. I knew that type of column wasn’t a good idea.

There are plenty of other options though. The life comparison — always a great one. Maybe I’ll give that one a shot:

Well, this is it. My final column. My time here at Binghamton went even quicker than everyone told me it would, but these four years really have been the best of my life.

I’ve learned a ton, like how sports are a metaphor for life. You set goals. You work as a team.

Yep.

… I don’t think anybody would actually want to read that.

What else is there? I could always go through and thank everyone that made my college experience enjoyable. But they already know who they are and don’t need me to write it out for them.

I got it! What if I just whine? This one has me written all over it:

Well, this is it. My final column. My time here at Binghamton went even quicker than everyone told me it would, but these four years really have been the best of my life.

But seriously? Why are we the Bearcats — it’s just so lame and completely focus-grouped. And why won’t seven members, instead of only six members, of my house chip in for blue bags? And why did Bryce Harper have to steal home in the first inning?

I’m going to cut that one short before this list gets too long.

So what’s left? I decided being cliché was, well, too cliché. A giant comparison to the course of life was too boring and elementary, and complaining about pretty much everything is what I do on a regular basis anyway — ask anyone who knows me.

So, that said, I guess I’ll just leave.

While I certainly value my Pipe Dream experience for helping me grow as a person and allowing me to work with some of the most passionate, talented and eccentric people on this campus, I have my heart and mind set on making my way into the legal field.

Surprised? Yeah, you’re not the only one. But I get it. I’m not as assertive or outspoken as people tell me I need to be in order to make it as a lawyer. I’ve been fooled one too many times by the same trick. I tend to put more trust in people than I should. And I avoid direct confrontations at all costs. But everyone loves a good underdog story, right?

People often ask about your plans after graduation, but it’s rare for them to ask you why those are your plans. People aren’t necessarily interested in the “why” as they are in the “what,” the “where” and the “how much will you be making?” But if you take an extra minute or so to ask someone what made him or her choose that particular path, you might be pleasantly surprised by what you find out. It’s something most people, including myself, normally don’t do.

And it wasn’t until this past winter break during my law school application process that not only was I finally able to put my “why” into words, but I also began to understand the importance of having a “why” in the first place.

My family has unfortunately been affected by injury, illness and tragedy over the past 10 years, the details of which I won’t delve into. Their perseverance in the face of adversity and the strength they found by coming together during difficult times, rather than alienating one another, are admirable and have motivated me to do the same for myself and for those around me.

I have learned that it’s not enough to simply focus on getting good grades or being a social butterfly, but that it’s equally as important to use your experiences to better yourself and to help others.

This is something I’ve strived to do during my four years here at Binghamton and something I’ve witnessed as well. By being an active participant and leader for Circle K and Student Volunteer Center, I have worked tirelessly with two of the most selfless and dedicated groups of people I have ever met, individuals who would (and have) given up their weekend mornings to help improve the community, whether it be by collecting food for the homeless, interacting with underprivileged kids or raising money for a local charity.

This kind of continuous devotion combined with a growing sense of determination against all odds have become a big part of my “why,” things I want to embody not just in law school but also wherever life brings me. And more importantly, they’re two things I’m glad to have taken away from my time here, if nothing else.

From the bottom of my heart, it has truly been an honor to serve for two years as the copy desk chief of this esteemed newspaper, working alongside a staff of hardworking people, all of whom I have absolutely no doubt in my mind will succeed for many years to come. Being a part of this campus publication involves more than just staying until four in the morning twice a week. Because if you ask any one of us why we chose to join Pipe Dream, I can guarantee you that our “whys” go far beyond what words can say.

Surprised? Yeah, maybe we are too.

Not much.

Four years ago I graduated from high school insanely excited for college, ready to move onto the next phase of my life. Now as I get ready to wear my green cap and gown and take pictures in front of the Binghamton University 2012 sign, I feel pretty much the same.

College has served its purpose well. I learned a few things in class, but I learned way more outside of it. I’ve made friends I know I’ll still be grabbing a drink with 10 years from now, and I know those I wasted way too much of my time on. I’ve enjoyed the $3 cab rides, the ability to go out on a Tuesday night just because I felt like it, the upstate gem that is Tully’s and, without a doubt, the free printing.

But am I upset to leave? Honestly, not really. Of course I’ll miss college and look back on my time in Binghamton fondly, but I’m ready to move on.

Yeah, we’re here to study and get good grades and get a diploma, but that’s not what the majority of us take away from college. We remember the memories, the people, the stupid shit we did at 2 a.m. because we were dumb kids and didn’t know any better.

And that’s how it should be. Four years in a place with basically no rules, total freedom and all necessities essentially handed to us on a silver platter; hell yeah we should take advantage of it.

So here’s my cliché moment. Don’t be afraid to take risks, but don’t be afraid to stick to your morals either. Try something new and do something you love. These four years are our time to truly examine who we are as people and what we will have to say for ourselves once the real world swallows us up.

But it’s also realizing that the freedom we’re given should be taken with a grain of salt because, sooner or later, we will have obligations. The independence we acquire by living on our own should make us open our eyes and realize the kind of people we are and the kind of people we want to be.

Leave the petty drama behind because it’s not worth it, but fight for it if it’s truly important. Act like a crazy kid but remember when it’s time to grow up. Realize, hopefully sooner rather than later, that respect goes a long way.

With about a week left to enjoy my time in Binghamton, I can honestly look back and say that it was time well spent. No, I’m not totally sure what I’m doing with my life, but I feel totally confident with the person that I am and the kind of impression I want to leave. Well, for now at least.

So, college, that’s a wrap.

Students must strive to complete projects and meet paper deadlines. Often they exhaust themselves studying for exams that will count substantially toward their final grade and it is not atypical for one to see empty containers of Red Bull or Monster lying around.

One thing that I have frequently noticed in my eight semesters as a Binghamton University student is just how difficult it is to find an available computer during the weeks of class and prior to finals week. It is normal for me enter the PODS during this time and have to take several laps before I find an available computer. I often must leave the PODS and search elsewhere to find one.

A problem that I have continuously found, however, is not so much that there are a limited number of computers available for students in the PODS, but that there are too many students who are not using their seized computer as they should be, browsing Facebook or some other non-academic website without any intention of stopping. I often see bags and other loose articles around many computers, but no actual student at the computer.

Now, I’m not suggesting that if the University wishes to demonstrate that it is rigorously committed to academic integrity that it must train its librarians to act like the Gestapo. Heaven forbid!

Instead I am suggesting that a particular computer etiquette be established and agreed upon among students so that the pain and anguish that has been felt by the college student who must painstakingly wander throughout the library trying to find a computer — like a child unable to find his home — may be limited. For the sake of justice, something must be done.

Now, how this might be done? When students use one of the PODS computers, we might say that the computer is “temporarily seized.” When no student is using a PODS computer we might say it is “temporarily seizable.”

To rectify the abuse that has resulted from a misuse of computers, as I characterize the behavior of those students who have been away from their computers for a more than reasonable amount of time, the Student Assembly ought to limit the amount of time that students may reasonably be away from their PODS computer before it can obtain the status of “temporarily seizable.”

Students would not be permitted to violate the property of other students whose property was still at the computer now labeled “temporarily seizable.” They would still be required to be reasonably respectful and conscious of the property that remains.

I must admit there are countless other difficulties to instating this procedure. But at the very least, I hope that it got you to recognize that there are practical problems, normative questions and subtle considerations in all walks of life — even in the most mundane circumstance, like in the PODS.

Though this shall be my final column for Pipe Dream, this was perhaps the aim each time I wrote. I enjoyed having an audience who hopefully read my opinions, and I have enjoyed sharing my voice.

The University’s agenda is ambitious. Not only does it plan to increase the size of both the faculty and student bodies by 150 and 2,000, respectively, but it also includes plans to build a $70 million alternative energy facility at the Innovative Technologies Complex.

There are certainly aspects of the University’s agenda that we commend. Looking for alternative sources of energy is always a good thing, especially on the research frontier. The more barriers we can bend and break, the bigger our blip gets on the national radar. But though Binghamton’s variation of the SUNY 2020 program is certainly deserving of praise for its goals of increasing research and revenue, the apparent disinterest it shows in the student population is worrisome.

The University and Cuomo are also hoping that the construction of the facility boosts Binghamton’s local economy. And of course, this is a good thing — we see nothing wrong with increased cash flow into the city. Maybe the new money will be used to help continue transform Downtown into a less depressing place. (It’s a permanent investment, unlike something like hydrofracking natural gas extraction.) And the grants provided through the program are a good example of using cash incentives to reward academic success.

Binghamton University is, these days, well on the way to becoming a research-first institution. But that has never been, isn’t now, nor should it be this school’s sole purpose. Its primary agenda should be providing low-cost, high-quality professional and liberal arts education to students.

This is a priority that we’re worried that University and State officials seem to have forgotten. When Sen. Charles Schumer was here last week for a lab opening, he derided past research efforts.

“Too often, New York institutions did research that was very nice in the ivory tower, but didn’t create any jobs. We are now focused on things that create jobs,” he announced proudly.

This attitude is alarming. And so is the fact that students have to make up for Albany’s inability to fully commit to secondary education.

If what they say about “rational tuition” is true, then it is better than the recent trend in tuition increases, where the price of our education was jacked up according to the short-sighted whim of Albany lawmakers, and often didn’t even go into the University’s coffers. Systematic tuition is good — at least as advertised — insofar as students are in the know about where their tuition dollars are going, and why they are going anywhere at all.

But the fact that the state is letting tax rates on millionaires drop to their previous low levels as tuition rates continue to rise for SUNY students is a sad display of whom our representatives in Albany truly represent. New York

The state is providing only $35 million of the $70 million needed to construct the new ITC building, and the rest is being supplied by the University and additional revenue from local businesses and corporations. Raising tuition puts the burden on the students, and though the new cash is needed to preserve and expand education here, no one’s talking about that — it’s all about jobs for people who don’t go here.

Empirically, this new money is a good thing. Developing new, cutting-edge research facilities is a good thing. Boosting the local economy is a good thing. But other than slightly reducing the overall student-faculty ratio — largely by hiring researchers — it’s hard to sugar coat this as something tangibly beneficial for more than a few current students. We hope the University doesn’t forget what it should be here for.

I walked onto the campus of Binghamton University almost four years ago as a wide-eyed freshman proud to be a student at “The Premier Public University in the Northeast.” I had heard about the infamous Rathskeller, and assumed it would be glorious. I thought fraternities were the best place to party and that the city of Binghamton was “quaint.”

I’m walking away from this school with a newfound cynicism, a drinking problem and a burning hatred for cloud cover and bathroom lines. I’ve been nearly mugged more times than I’d like to admit to my parents and I’ve acquired a few extra pounds that are entirely thanks to Mug Night at Tom and Marty’s and the wings at the Belmar.

It’s fair to say that many graduating seniors experience the love/hate relationship that is student life here at BU. It’s hard to ignore the downsides of this town, a place that could be the perfect backdrop for a post-apocalyptic zombie movie.

But it’s nearly impossible to hate this place entirely, this pseudo-reality where a beer costs you $2.50 and on most nights an ex-Playboy playmate makes out with freshmen at Flashbacks.

This place was the opposite of what I expected it to be, and I both love and hate that. It wasn’t until this final semester that I really understood what I had learned during my four years here, and the knowledge I have amassed isn’t exactly what they advertise in the brochures for the Public Ivy …

Firstly, bar knowledge. The Rat isn’t the oasis freshmen dream of, it’s just the bar that lets the most underage people in. If you drop something on the floor of The Rat, you leave it there. Tom and Marty’s on the weekend is going to be a sardine can until after 2 a.m., at which point most of the young ones clear out and the usual older crowd settles in.

Any liquid on the floor of the bar or surrounding areas is always considered questionable and can be anything from urine to sperm. The bartenders at Dillinger’s will ignore you. I watched somebody have sex on the couch at Paradigm, so don’t ever sit down.

Second, this town is a shithole. Literally. I would never send my kid to this school for fear of this place. The townsfolk scare me. I’ve had things shouted at me while walking around that can’t be put in print and I’ve seen some things on my walk Downtown that made me want to pour bleach in my eyes.

Sure, the nice areas are up in the hill where the normal people build fortresses to shield themselves in case the creatures north of Main Street ever decide to attack, but most of this city is little more than an endless horror movie. The hills have eyes.

Third, by the end of your senior year, you are too old for this shit. I spent the last two weeks complaining about how cold it was when we were forced to trek Downtown in 30-degree weather, and I always ended up rounding the corner at State Street and seeing a wall of scantily clad freshmen and sophomores. I’ve been wearing long sleeves, two pairs of tights and gloves every night it’s been cold since October.

I have no idea how I wore less clothes as a freshman. My hangovers last longer than they used to, and my patience for standing in line for the bathroom has worn so thin it’s transparent. I feel like I should be carrying a cane when I walk Downtown.

Last, you haven’t done something unless you put it online. Everything I do in the world I have to display on three different social media outlets. Are you going to Spring Fling? You better update your Facebook status, make Spring Fling a hashtag on Twitter and take a picture of cotton candy at an odd angle, change the filter and upload it to Instagram.

Half of college is spent updating people on what you’re doing, checking in at Tom and Marty’s and tagging that picture of yourself photo-bombing two people sucking face at The Rat. Even as “adults” we feel the need to display our every move online in some sort of social dick-measuring contest. You’re only cool if you have more than 1,000 Facebook friends.

And that’s really it, Bingers. I spent four years here eating Mediterranean Gyro and collecting JT’s and Tom and Marty’s mugs. This place is our place, our little hole in the mountain, a town that’s half dead with a partying heart beating furiously at its center. I love/hate this place, and I love/hate the people who go here. It’s hard not to feel that way.

Call Hermione Granger, because I need her time turner. I’d like to start it all over again.

In a short matter of time, each and every one of us seniors will be handed a diploma signifying four years of academic achievement. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the term “diploma” because it is a very thorough text, its sole purpose being to provide definitions of English words.

To me, a diploma is no more than a piece of paper that says, “Hello, I represent Jason Blackman. As of May 20, 2012, Jason Blackman knows slightly more about James Joyce than he did four years ago, and now you should be compelled to treat him with more respect than a person of a lesser degree or, heaven forbid, no degree at all. Gasp.”

That’s not to say that I don’t value the classes I’ve taken or the professors who have taught me. I don’t discard the things I’ve read in textbooks as useless, and I certainly don’t think knowledge is a waste of time.

However, my real education wasn’t received in a classroom, in the library or during office hours. No. I’ve learned life’s most valuable lessons on the court.

Of life. The Court of Life. Not a basketball court. Actually, a very small percentage of my life has been spent on basketball courts. In fact, the majority of time I actually have spent on basketball courts was more for a smooth, controlled surface on which to scooter than anything else.

What I’m trying to say is the most memorable things that have happened to me while enrolled at Binghamton University cannot be reduced to a letter grade or a cumulative GPA. The things I’ve learned most about myself cannot be described in a research paper about somebody else’s achievements.

And to my professors, if I’ve had an “unexcused absence” in your class, you can officially excuse me, for I guarantee I was present somewhere else and more likely than not, I was having a lot of fun.

Now, to some, my words may seem like no more than a liberal objection to scholarly pursuits. To that, I say no. If research and memorization is your passion, then I urge you to act on it, every single day, for the rest of your life.

If it’s not, then figure out what you want to do and do it. Your 20s are not the time to let financial stability take precedence over passion. If you’ve always wanted to be a singer, then sing. If you’ve always wanted to become a chef, then cook. If you’ve always dreamed of traveling the world, then get on a fucking plane and go somewhere.

To my parents, please excuse me for the risks I will take and the mistakes I am sure to make. You’ve taught me well, and I’ll be all right. To my friends, I thank you for every second we’ve spent together and I’ll see you at the first wedding.

To my sexual partners, past, present and future, I’ve been tested and I’m clean. So, yeah.

Earlier I said that my college experience could not be represented by a solitary letter. Let me amend. I am the only person who can grade myself, and with careful thought and consideration, I get a B+. College was amazing, but if I ever reach perfection, it’s all downhill from there.

Thank you, Binghamton University Class of 2012, and congratulations. Now go do some living.

And it’s not because we’re sad to see each other graduate, or because we’ve promised to stay in touch afterward. No, it’s not because one too many of us have fallen into bed with another or because I know that I’ll always have someone who I can drink my sorrows away with.

It’s because we fucking have each other’s backs.

Put us into overdrive, and animal instinct takes over. You mess with my people and you are insulting me personally. This is something not a single one of us will tolerate.

I could not ask to leave Binghamton University with any greater gift.

No, I’m not sure what my next step will be and I may not have an answer to that for a while. And yes, I know that my life will never be the same again. I mean let’s be real, where else besides a university in the boonies can you limit your spending to $15 a week while still managing to get belligerently drunk six out of seven nights?

I like to take Mondays off, it’s a nice break for my poor, poor liver.

But mostly, I’ll miss cohabiting with my friends. Basically living with each other, spending all of our free time together either camping out in the Glenn G. Bartle Library (ew), snuggling and having a movie night or holding my dumb best friend’s hair back while she pukes up jello shots — oh wait, just kidding, reverse those roles …

It forces so many emotions to the surface. Nostalgia, sadness, happiness, wistfulness, regret, satisfaction, all churning and fighting each other to win my heart or my head over by convincing me that this is the proper way to feel about this milestone in my life that always seemed to be so far in the future.

So I shall choose ignorance instead.

Why? Because it’s easy. It’s easier to disregard the mounting nausea brought on by the thought that I will no longer live directly above my best friends, and possibly never will again. It’s easier to live in ignorant bliss for these last few precious days than it is to let my ever-changing moods get the best of me.

And I’d prefer to end my time here on a high note, like cheering on my friends while they fail miserably in an intramural softball game and (not so) sneakily passing a two-liter bottle of Sprite filled with anything but soda back and forth, even though we all moved off campus three years ago and we’re all over 21.

I’d prefer to end my time here with the comforting thought that even if we haven’t seen each other in weeks, maybe even months, we’re always going to protect each other and have a good freakin’ time doing it.

I can’t be sure if it’s the Jewish mother dying to break out of me, or if it’s simply one of the purest forms of affection and adoration I’ve ever been privileged to feel or if it’s some weird and inexplicable combination of all of those things and more. What I can be sure of is that Binghamton has introduced me to some of the most amazing people I’ll ever know.

And that’s enough to make me feel like a successful graduate. That’s enough to make me feel like I can move into this next phase of life prepared and never feeling alone.

So thanks, Binghamton University. Thank you city of Binghamton, for sometimes being a little bit too run-down and for being so affordable because of that. Thanks for not leaving me with piles of student loans to pay off, and thanks for helping me continue to prove to my parents that I am a capable human. Thanks for letting me fuck up, and thanks for showing me that I won’t always.

And most of all, thanks for all my stupid fucking friends who I love so much.

As I considered my fondest memories at this school and what I would miss the most, I realized that so much is already gone. Being able to get a pizza from Escape State Street or being able to see the Bearcats at the NCAA tournament bracket are already things of the past.

So rather than using this final column to reminisce about my fondest memories at this school, I plan on making this a kind of public service announcement.

Chances are that if you are a freshman or a sophomore, by now you have already heard 100 people tell you to enjoy college because it goes by too fast. You may think that is silly advice. As you sit through a boring lecture and watch the seconds tick by like hours, it is hard to fathom the idea of college going too quickly.

It becomes all too easy to forget to enjoy the present. Sitting in your monotonous class or in your cramped dorm room, you are going to be bored. It’s unavoidable. People forget to tell you that a large portion of college is boring and they forget to tell you this because they simply don’t remember.

Why would they? Who looks back fondly on the Monday nights where it was too early in the week to drink, but also too early to have any work to do? Your mind (thankfully) tends to forget the countless hours spent watching “Teen Mom.”

As you endure these boring times you will inevitably begin counting down the days until the weekend and then counting down the days until a vacation, then a concert, then summer, then winter break and before you know it, you’re left with a few days until graduation.

I’m not sharing this to scare my younger peers or warn you about how soon you will be in the real world. My only point is to enjoy college while it lasts. Whether you go to graduate school or not, chances are college will be the last time in your life you can get away with doing something that’s as stupid as it is memorable.

Grades are important and anyone who tells you otherwise may have a hard time finding a job in the future, but looking back on my last four years I can say with confidence that grades aren’t everything. When a friend asks you if you want to go have an adventure even though you have a quiz the next day, try to realize that your quiz is 5 percent of one class in one semester in one year of college.

While your GPA might drop a fraction of a percent, believe me when I say it is worth it to have that adventure.

It would be negligent for me to encourage you to skip class or get too drunk or get arrested, so I won’t say that, but I will say this: 20 years from now, when you bump into your freshman roommate on the street while you’re walking to your hover-car, do you think that the two of you will laugh harder about the time you studied for a quiz, or about the time campus police chased you through the Glenn G. Bartle Library?

Have fun, don’t take college too seriously and I wish you the best of luck.

How in the world is it that nearly four years ago, I was here in the middle of July for orientation? Looking back that far, there are only a few things that stand out in my mind: Al (one of my Orientation Advisers), Tim (a damn good local trumpeter) and my ID card (I needed a bit of a haircut and a shave).

Looking back to Year 1, my one regret was probably taking Calculus 2. I didn’t need to take it to start, having completed my math GenEd credit with my AP Calculus AB score. However, I didn’t know that at the time and still worked my way through the course.

Apart from that, there are a number of positives from that year, like joining WHRW and Pipe Dream and taking two interesting courses, one on British spy fiction that lead to an espionage thriller idea that’s been bouncing around my head all this time, and another on the evolution of cinema. And there was also Jon Stewart’s stand-up gig, which set the bar, in my opinion, for future comedian gigs on campus.

I have no major outstanding disappointments about Year 2, apart from the lackluster Andy Samberg gig. I was expecting more than a question-and-answer session and a greatest hits-style clip show. However, that was balanced out with a good deal of stimulating courses.

There was the standard journalism introductory course with Roessner (seriously knows his stuff), Alternative Fictions with Shirley (a must-take), Shakespeare with Vos (THE Shakespeare professor), Symbolism in Popular Culture with Church, and Pop, Rock and Soul with Lalli.

All the professors conveyed that they knew what they were talking about or handily lead masterful discussions about society and popular culture, expanding the horizons of their classes.

That was also the year that I got to know Daniel Jan Walikis, WHRW’s late grandpa, whom I eulogized back in February.

The fall semester of junior year was probably my best in terms of overall classes. Contemporary Adolescent Literature with Signorotti (a must-take), British Literature I with Nace (who may not be returning next year), Tai Chi with talks with trees (who may also not be returning next year) and Zombie Nation with Shirley (another must-take), along with a video production class.

They made for quite a stimulating and engaging semester through the reading lists and sometimes rambling class discussions.

That spring brought a rewarding internship with the Office of Media and Public Relations on campus, along with Apocalyptic Literature with Grayson (who has since moved on), Comics with Sharp (not as easy as you’d expect, but still engaging) and Literary Theory (which, I’ve heard, has since been improved with TAs and discussion sections, which would have helped greatly).

My main regret from last year was Aziz Ansari. He was decent, but it took me a while to warm up to his material, as I wasn’t too familiar with him or his style.

And how can I even sum up a year that is just about to be over? Perhaps just the milestones, like seeing Andrew Bird and Neil deGrasse Tyson, taking an independent study with professor Shirley, finally getting into a Ryan Vaughan class and working in a greater capacity at the radio station.

That’s what everything boils down to: Four years recapped in a little over 600 words. It has been a wonderful experience overall and I thank everyone who has been there along the way.

I bid you all adieu and close out this 44th and final column with wish for luck to all on whatever the future holds. Safe travels and allons-y!

So we waited. And waited. And waited. Then one day, the drive that had once filled the station was gone. But instead of compensating for the years of low quality we had suffered through — or even making some attempt to fill the airwaves — BTV simply shut off. Gone. Kaput. Turning to campus channel six yielded only elevator music and a picture of some buildings here.

What exactly happened at the BTV office no one really knows. Was the massive BTV office somehow being utilized without anyone knowing? Was the E-Board busy at work while the rest of us slept? Any time someone glanced in their office during the day, it was empty and dark.

And did it really take $1,000 a year to broadcast a picture? Maybe they were paying live musicians to play the background music.

After losing its $15,000 annual budget last year for its lack of, well, anything, we would have thought that BTV would strive to prove that it did deserve money, after all. Then came another year of squandered opportunities. Not one new show premiered; the still-frame of campus continued to taunt students with its maddeningly generic music and promise that new programs were “coming soon!”

There is hope, though. Reviewing BTV’s woeful past few years is like reading the story of an addict. There was a bright future once. But bit by bit, with each terrible decision, with each indulgence in a new piece of equipment to get back to the high of what the channel once was, it was dragged lower and lower, less funny and more pathetic, until at last there was simply nothing left.

BTV was left lamely requesting more money, wasting it on who knows what.

But now we see the light at the end of the tunnel for the long-beleaguered channel. It has hit rock bottom. With almost nothing left — a budget that was $0 for the coming year and raised to $1,000 only after an appeal — BTV is a shadow of what it once was. Surely, it has sunk as far as it possibly could.

From the bottom, though, it can only get better. Even as it grapples with a severely slashed budget, BTV says it has good things on the way. Scheduling to premiere at the end of the semester apparently includes a game show, morning and evening news segments and a comedy advertised as “The Binghamton Bro Code.”

We hope BTV doesn’t let this campus down again. Binghamton could use something worthwhile to look at. If this truly is the beginning of a renaissance for the channel, we wait with bated breath for its debut.

We were never known for having stellar athletics. Until a few years ago.

A sea of white poured out of the Events Center bleachers in March 2009. The men’s basketball team had just won its first America East championship and clinched a berth to the NCAA tournament. School pride was at its highest.

Unfortunately for me, I was not on campus at the time. I didn’t transfer here until a year later, but have heard from plenty of friends that it was the single most memorable experience from their time at Binghamton.

The only students still on campus from that day will be graduating in a few short weeks. And when May 20 rolls around, they, along with the majority of the memories of that day three years ago, will be gone. The only remnants of that moment will be the banner in the Events Center and the America East trophy that sits in the athletic director’s suite.

The run of the 2008-09 men’s basketball team brought everything together. The school was already at the best academic standing it had ever achieved and application rates were at an all-time high.

The name “Binghamton University” was synonymous with all-around success. The basketball team’s run brought the local community and students on campus together as one. They united under one roof. Whether you were from Vestal, Long Island or overseas, you were proud to be at Binghamton.

Things sure have taken a turn for the worse in the three years since, and the athletic year that was 2011-12 may have truly been rock bottom.

It’s nothing less than unfortunate and disappointing that as quickly as that championship team was dismantled, so too did the buzz on campus surrounding the team disappear. These days, any time our Bearcats are brought up in a conversation, it’s soon followed by some variation of, “Oh, we suck at everything, right?”

Sure, we’re no Michigan, Ohio State or Duke. But brand names have never been the greatest part of college sports, at least not for me.

What people love so much about the college game is the sense of community — the sense that the fans in the crowd want to win just as much as the student-athletes on the field. It’s for that reason that such emotion accompanies every tip of the ball and every blow of the whistle. It’s the “oohs” and “aahs” that go hand-in-hand with the close calls.

But really, it’s about being able to see someone anywhere on campus and know that they take as much pride in wearing the name “Binghamton” as you do. Once upon a time, that feeling existed at Binghamton.

But our teams still take the field. The local community still fills the seats. It’s the student support that lacks these days, but that’s what makes the experience of college sports so surreal.

The pieces are all in place. They’ve been there since the glory days of 2009. You, the students, are the final ingredient in making this place all it once was and all that it can one day be again.

Binghamton is like Clint Eastwood’s face. It’s hard to imagine what it must have looked like in its prime, back before the potholes started getting really deep and everything began to turn an ashen gray. But when the light hits it at just the right angle, it shines with a certain rugged beauty.

Getting to know the city of Binghamton has been a huge part of my four-year stint here at BU. Some of my greatest moments were spent exploring the streets, looking for new restaurants, new bars or just a new place to walk when I’m bored.

That’s how I discovered Tom’s gift shop, where they sell nearly 100 different flavors of gourmet coffee. That’s how I discovered Rec Park and Otsiningo Park, two of my favorite places to spend a rare sunny afternoon. That’s how I discovered how beautiful the city looks when reflected off the Chenango River in the middle of the night.

We all know that the local restaurants are the hidden gems of Binghamton. Since it started in 2010, Restaurant Week has been one of the most anticipated weeks of my semester. It’s still a shock to me that Binghamton is home to such quality restaurants as Lost Dog, Tranquil Bar & Bistro and Whole in the Wall.

But even better are the real holes in the wall. Danny’s Diner, owned by a middle-aged greaser, serves the best greasy diner food in town. And Kennedy Fried Chicken is a must for anyone looking for Southern-style fried chicken.

For anyone getting sick of the typical night on State Street, try something new. Get a craft brew at the newly opened Water St. Brewing Company. Get a $2 pint at Lost Dog’s happy hour. Get a sampler of dark beers at Cyber Café West. Go to wing night on Thursdays at Manley’s. Get a taco or two from the Belmar. Hit up the bar at Laurel Bowl and bowl a few rounds. Get a Berries and Nuts shot at The Beef — seriously, do it.

And then there are the arts. First Friday is just the beginning. You can always find a live band or local art exhibit somewhere in Binghamton. Cyber Café West, RiverRead Books and the Art Mission Theater are always good places to start when looking for some local entertainment.

Of course, this column wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the B-Mets and the Senators. This season may be the last for the Binghamton Mets, so get to a game at NYSEG stadium while you still can. And even though the B-Sens will probably keep losing here in Binghamton for a long time to come, they know how to put on a good show and come highly recommended on my list.

I’ve lived off campus longer than most undergrads, but you don’t need to live Downtown to experience everything that Binghamton has to offer. The University provides us with the incredible service of free city buses. So hop on one, it really doesn’t matter which, and ride it until you don’t recognize anything around you, then get on another and ride some more.

I remember being hopelessly lost Downtown as a freshman. As it turned out, I was never too far from State Street, but it was the most fun I had that year.

It’s hard to believe that it’s almost time to say goodbye to Binghamton. I’m going to miss the shit out of this place and everyone that’s shared in the experience with me. I wouldn’t trade a single moment of the last four years for anything in the world.

The athletic department certainly has to get its act together, but students also need to be more patient about our faltering program. It pains me to say that, but we don’t really have much of a choice.

First of all, when things get bad, kids need to stop saying we should just get a football team. It would be really, really cool, but also really, really stupid. The majority of college football programs are not profitable, even when they are finally established, and doing so takes a ton of resources. Football does not belong here.

Secondly, when teams suck, students should still go to games more than they do (and not just the basketball games). I mean, if all else fails, get hammered and go nuts. At least it’ll be interesting. Support your fellow students; you have no idea how much time and effort they put into what they do, even if they don’t win much. That’s how a program starts the rebuilding process.

The tough thing about rebuilding an athletic reputation is that it takes time. Just give these guys a chance. They deserve to be criticized when they do wrong (I have done so quite a few times in my days at Pipe Dream), but do you give equal praise when they do something good? The program is headed in a new direction under new athletic director Patrick Elliott, just as the University is headed in a new direction under new President Harvey Stenger.

During a recent meeting, Stenger and I discussed the athletic messes of the past and present. He asked me what I would do if I was him, and that was a hell of a loaded question. I emphasized the importance of the relationship between Stenger and Elliott and how everyone needs to be on the same page at all times, and that page had better be the right one.

In the men’s basketball mess, the shameful resignations of former President Lois DeFleur and former AD Joel Thirer illustrate a tremendous failure to ascend in the right way, which allowed former head coach Kevin Broadus to have free reign. Those individuals are no longer with the program, but Broadus still gets paid a pretty penny by this school for doing absolutely nothing.

Former head coach Mark Macon was a victim of this. I had my doubts when it came to his coaching abilities, but it was his first coaching gig, so I thought he deserved a little time before I passed judgment. Revamping a program usually involves cleaning house. But Macon inherited these problems and didn’t deserve what he got.

I guess the fact that I’m from Buffalo makes me predisposed to support teams that frequently suck, so I’m used to long-suffering athletic programs. But just let these guys do their thing. I believe that the program will get back to doing things the right way, and in several years that will pay dividends.

On a completely different note, I want to thank all of the Pipe Dream staff I’ve worked with throughout these four years. And my RA friends, I love you to death. Remember that you always have a voice, even though the system is designed against you. Everyone else I’ve had the pleasure of befriending, from Rotary to 420, you’re all amazing.

This has been the best four years of my life. From the first moment I stepped on this campus, I knew this was where I wanted to be, and now the last thing in the world I want to do is leave.

But now I’m off to law school, and I’m going to miss a lot of things and people here, Pipe Dream among them. I’m going to miss writing articles, sitting courtside at basketball games and seeing practically every Pipe Dream staffer shwasted in Tom & Marty’s every single weekend because production nights were always so damn brutal.

Above all, thank you for reading. It means a lot to me when I see students all over Lecture Hall with their heads buried in this publication. I appreciate you all reading what I have to say and I’m honored that I’ve been able to do it for so long.

The class of 2012 is well aware that the University wanted us to suffer through all four years with shitty dining halls, a D-grade gym facility, endless central campus construction that won’t benefit us and, of course, the ever-so-beautiful East Campus construction project.

I lived in what will soon be called “the former Dickinson Community” for three years of my college career. Most stop me there, but it was for a variety of reasons, and I actually grew to like the place.

However, I am already positive that I hate everyone who gets the opportunity to live in the new Dickinson a few years down the road. And I hate the fact that once I graduate, Dickinson will be the coolest place to live, as it is best known now for housing the most random assortment of students who wish they lived in College-in-the-Woods or Newing College.

The endless construction all over campus is, in general, a great thing. However, for me and my fellow seniors, it’s bullshit, because in our four years at Binghamton we hardly got to see anything “new,” although I will give kudos to the refurbished East Gym facility.

I’ve paid good money to go to a state school, and soon enough our University is going to look like a private institution, just without the ivy and a campus full of stuck up, old-money bitches.

Besides the God awful buildings we’ve had to deal with, we’ve literally had a tragic event occur EVERY YEAR. Just search the New York Times database and you’ll quickly learn that most people associate tragedy, failure and scandal with Binghamton University, if they even know what the hell it is.

Perhaps the worst tragedy to happen in my four years here was the American Civic Association shooting, where 13 people were murdered in cold blood.

We managed to make headlines for tragedy and scandal sophomore year. In December 2009, Professor Richard Antoun was stabbed and killed in Science Building I by a grad student. The year continued in a downward spiral with the basketball scandal breaking and ended with our long-reigning president Lois DeFleur retiring.

Junior year wasn’t as climactic, but two sororities did lose their charters, which was a big deal to some people.

As for our senior year, we’re all well aware of the devastating September floods, the unseasonably warm winter and the impending demise of Binghamton’s Greek Life empire.

Despite all the tragedy and bad times Binghamton has had, I still love this place. Whether I want to admit it or not, this obese, pessimistic city has become a “home” to me.

From the amazing professors and faculty, who have made my life here so comfortable and have allowed me to push the boundaries of a liberal arts education (shoutout to Jill Seymour and Mary Haupt), to some delicious eateries that I know I’ll be craving (Nezuntoz, Lost Dog, Tranquil, Plaza Diner) to my fellow Pipe Dreamers who have helped me learn and grow so much as a writer — Binghamton really has been good to me.

Let’s not forget my phenomenal friends. Everyone thinks they have the best friends in the world, but I know that the select few who I’m closest to will still be a part of my life in 20 years.

As senior year comes to a close, all I can do is reminisce on the ridiculousness that my life has been for the past four years. We may all be living in a bubble in Binghamton, but we certainly know how to have a good time.

For those of you not graduating, enjoy your college years. Any alum I talk to tells me how depressed they are after BU. College is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you to black out on a weekly basis, get with four guys in one night and procrastinate on doing work until the morning it’s due — and have it be acceptable.

As my senior year winds down, I have been fondly remembering my time in college and at Pipe Dream. Despite all the times I complained about how much I hate everything Binghamton, I did have some of the best times of my life here. I owe a lot of thanks to my friends, the University and State Street for showing me a good time.

Bing is evolving, and I am excited to see where the changes take the University in the future. It is clear that our beloved Binghamton University is undergoing a drastic, much-needed makeover — has anyone else seen that snazzy wooden statue outside of the Glenn G. Bartle Library? Of course, the University starts to get better right when I leave.

The city of Binghamton needs a similar makeover, and students at Binghamton University have the power to transform it. Downtown student housing at Twin River Commons and 20 Hawley St. will hopefully lead to the rise of student population and the fall of the townie. Add a Pita Pit or a Chipotle and we might have a college town on our hands.

All Binghamton will need is a basketball team — check out some of the College-in-the-Woods and Intramural talent!

As far as my time at Pipe Dream goes, joining at the end of my sophomore year was one of the best things I’ve ever done. I am so glad that I had the honor of working with the entirety of Pipe Dream’s amazing staff for the past two years.

For those of you graduating, I wish you the best of luck in your graduate schools, careers and beyond. I have no doubt in my mind that you will all be successful. For those of you Pipe Dreamers lucky enough to still be undergrads, enjoy your time left in college. I’m excited to see where you take Pipe Dream in the future. In the immortal words of Justin Mathew: “I’m like, 90 percent sure you’ll be fine…”

In all seriousness, I look forward to reading Pipe Dream in the future, whether it be in the print edition or on the KICK-ASS website. I am proud to be a graduate of both Binghamton University and Pipe Dream University. Keep up the good work and finish strong.

The SA earned the grade for simple things like the Readership Program with The New York Times and for managing the “clear and convincing evidence” issue last semester (though it seems like an age ago). The Executive Board should be commended for taking the issue of incorporation and boiling it down to a simple paper-work adjustment. The SA’s allocation process for its $2 million-plus budget was efficient and for the first time in years, had no accusations of prejudice. We only reserve the full A because 1) it would feel weird and 2) the SA hasn’t really generated any notable new ideas moving forward.

We expect even more progress from next year’s E-Board, and we hope the Assembly is more productive than it was these past two semesters.

Importantly, though, we’ve given the SA high marks for what it didn’t do.

Whether it has been racial epithets hurled at Assembly meetings, alcoholic beverages that made their way around SUNY SA conferences or politically motivated student group witch hunts, the news-making actions of the SA in recent memory have often been cause for concern. Katie Howard isn’t flirting with a mayoral campaign. Nobody’s called anyone a shitty welfare group. Of grievances, there have been few.

At least part of the smooth functioning of the organization this year owes to the small scale of its actions. Perhaps realizing that sudden and expansive initiatives have in the past met a chorus of criticism, the SA this year has often limited itself to straightforward, boring matters.

Most emblematic of the SA’s attempts to move forward without betting the house, was moving election balloting from paper to digital form. It was a step in the right direction, but we still feel the SA could have taken it a step further by possibly introducing off-site, online voting. But the SA wanted to do something, and did it, and it worked, weirdly.

Students can also look at two big-name acts, Pretty Lights and Passion Pit, as well. Not to mention, when the flood hit and the Events Center was converted into a temporary shelter, interfering with the Pretty Lights concert, the Programming Board handled the situation with aplomb in moving the show to the Broome County Arena.

Likewise, when campus construction war zones forced the SAPB to relocate Spring Fling, the SA made the best out of a bad situation. Paying $10 for an indoor concert — a concert that would otherwise be outside and free of cost — isn’t ideal, but at least we’re not paying to see someone press buttons on a laptop … or Eve 6. Or Lifehouse.

And let’s not forget that instead of bringing in someone like Snooki, a reality TV star and ridiculous excuse for a human being, they reeled in world-renown astrophysicist Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson. Not too shabby.

While none of these initiatives are the sort of large-scale, bold visions that will change campus culture itself, perhaps that is for the best, at least for the SA’s popularity. We rarely wrote about the SA this year, beyond programming updates. We didn’t have much to say.

If anything, this year’s E-Board has proven that perhaps not all publicity is good publicity. For them, the best publicity was having no publicity at all.

It was God himself, Mark Elliot Zuckerberg.

In creating Facebook’s Timeline feature, Zuck did us all a grand disservice. Superficial changes aside — which everyone needs to cool their jets about; you’ll eventually get used to it — he has done something unimaginably worse.

In essence, the Timeline has killed nostalgia.

Nostalgia as we knew it was already a shell of its pre-Digital Age self. I mean, let’s be real. Do you think that twinge we get when we hear the Pokemon theme song compares to that feeling our parents or grandparents would get upon hearing a 45 of The Beatles or Elvis? I went to a Paul McCartney concert with my mom last July and I can tell you that she felt something that night I definitely never have.

For the sake of this argument, let’s concede that the feeling we get when memories of our past permeate our senses through pictures, songs and even tastes is, in fact, “nostalgia.” So every once in a while, we whip out a middle school yearbook, look through an old family photo album, listen to “Hey Leonardo” by Blessid Union of Souls, rehash what life was like in the 20th century and call the whole experience an emotional bout of nostalgia. Cool.

But at what point does it stop being nostalgia? When does the occasional trip down memory lane instead become disappointment with the way your life currently is? When do you start just feeding your incessant need to dwell on the past?

Nostalgia and social media obey simple economic rules. Social networks, particularly the Timeline, have given us so many outlets to be nostalgic that the value of it has diminished to almost nothing. With a few clicks, you’re at your junior prom, on your eighth grade trip to Boston or celebrating your Sweet 16.

Now, this argument assumes two things: you care as deeply as I do about the state of nostalgia and you spend every waking minute on Facebook looking at pictures from your past, yearning to live vicariously through a slightly younger version of yourself.

I’m going to guess neither one really applies to you, so I have two things to tell you going forward. First, don’t spend every waking minute on Facebook Timeline looking at pictures from your past, yearning to live vicariously through a slightly younger version of yourself. Those kind of antics don’t look good on anyone.

Appreciate who you are and acknowledge the road you took to get here, but don’t let your life now play second fiddle to the life you once had … you know, three years ago. Hate Facebook for diminishing the value of your memory, not for its superficial drawbacks.

And second, go ahead and care a little more deeply about the state of nostalgia. It is a powerful thing, and with only 20 or so years on this Earth so far, we take it for granted. Facebook isn’t giving us a new, unique way to access that feeling. It’s giving us so much overload of our past that we’re becoming desensitized to the people we once were. The value of looking at old pictures, or listening to old songs, is quickly shrinking.

If you examine its Greek roots, part of the word nostalgia can be translated as “pain” or “ache.” The Timeline is, in a way, making you sick with relics from your past. Don’t let it. Keep nostalgia sacred and appreciate the life you live now. It isn’t so bad.

The underlying assumption by critics of the movie is that the movie was somehow “too violent,” that it crossed the line from the permissibly gory to the unviewable.

Standards for what constitutes the unviewable have been declining since the advent of film. Even as standards are loosened, they are still in place and the MPAA shows no signs of disappearing.

So it’s worth asking: At what point does something become too violent? There is no clear line in the sand, but is there one at all?

Many of the movies we know and love contain firefights, stabbings and other depictions of death by countless other means. And we love it. What would “Scarface” be without the movie’s namesake unloading his “little friend”? “The Departed” without (both of) the protagonists’ out-of-the-blue deaths? “Pulp Fiction” without Zedd’s murder?

These and other, more brutal scenes of violence are mainstays of the contemporary movie industry. And we love them. Our movies would be flatter and less fun without them.

The question is, why do we love them? Is it because we know they are just actors and they will arise from their deaths to act another day? Do the credits, as the bow at the end of a play, provide the audience with the reminder that death is, at least for now, temporary?

Regardless of the fakeness of the death we see, it still excites us. “300” gets our adrenaline pumping; the romanticized portrayal of war and death draws us in.

There is something about death and the causation of death that we enjoy. Maybe it’s not simply that we somehow know that it is impermanent; perhaps it is because that death exists outside the realm of societal consequences.

Freed from the bonds of civilization, life is, to paraphrase a famous philosopher, ugly, brutish and short. It is a dog-eat-dog, might-makes-right world. You take what is yours. Death is no weighty matter in the wild; is a predator traumatized by the death of its prey?

The imposition of government and social norms aims to make death a serious issue. Chinese philosophers urged rulers to make subjects look upon death with fear. It would cause order. And today, social order is the norm, death is seen culturally as “the ultimate sacrifice” and causing death results in jail time, or, ironically, the death penalty.

But the fascination — perhaps the innate predatory instinct within us — is not gone. We cover it up with laws and sate it through proxies, but it is still there. Absent those strictures, how would the urge be satisfied? Even with them in place, we still barely manage to hide it.

We may pretend that death only fascinates us so long as it is pretend. But what if you didn’t know if it was pretend? What if those people we saw dying on screen were really dying and never coming back? It is only because so many lines have been drawn by so many societal institutions that they have formed a network of barriers. They separate the civil from the uncivil, proxy from reality.

But lurking behind every movie ticket we buy and bloodbath we drink in is the atavistic draw of death.

But anyone who looks past the stereotypes knows we are much more than that.

You can judge me all you want for being in a fraternity. In the end, I do enjoy a nice cold beer and a rager filled with beautiful, of-age ladies — who doesn’t?

But I do have a problem with the recent blanket statements by the media and some students about Greek Life. Yes, some organizations on this campus haze. And yes, some of the things that happen during pledging are disgusting, immoral acts. No one has ever benefited from being locked in a closet or drinking until they puke. Those abuses must be stopped.

But should that place all Greek organizations on the same moral level as those offending organizations?

Freshman year, a resident in my building trashed the bathroom on my floor. Since no culprit was found, the entire floor was charged.

Now, the same collective punishment is being leveled against the entire Greek system.

Greeks are portrayed as a detriment to society. Like many generalizations, the characterization is false. Greek Life does great things for its members and for Binghamton University.

Overall, Greek Life does more philanthropy work than any other group of organizations on campus. This year Delta Phi Epsilon raised more than $10,000 for cystic fibrosis research and Alpha Epsilon Phi raised $19,000 at Greek God. My fraternity, Alpha Sigma Phi, raised the second-highest amount of money for Relay for Life — the top team was Delta Phi Epsilon.

Let’s move beyond philanthropy to academics. By belonging to a fraternity, your chance of graduating increases by up to 10 percent. My brothers have always been there to support me academically. Of course there were those who partied too hard, but many brothers served as positive role models. I quickly learned the valuable lessons of moderation and time management.

Greek Life undoubtedly gives more than it takes from society. So don’t judge Greek Life as a whole for the actions of a few organizations. We all work incredibly hard to benefit this campus and are extremely proud of the things we accomplish and the events we hold.

We are a beneficial force that is being unfairly attacked on this campus. I am graduating this year and am scared for the future of Greek Life at Binghamton University.

I hope that in the following years, I can come back to find a campus in which Greeks and non-Greeks coexist happily, one in which stereotypes do not determine perception.

I leave you with one final thought. I was inspired to write this column by a sentence from a previous Pipe Dream editorial which eventually found its way to The New York Times: “If even half of the rumors swirling around campus are half-true, then the jig needs to end.” Think about the rumors you have heard about yourself or others. If nearly half of those rumors were half-true, what kind of person would you be?

As such, some of us are feeling the pressure. For most, it’s to end the year on a high note and do well in the last couple classes, but for others, the pressure is very different.

Some people see this as their last hurrah for a long time, and want to make it count for everything good Binghamton has to offer. On occasion, this works out pretty well and people do just as they intend, but for others, knowing it’ll be awhile before they experience this kind of fun again can lead them to do some pretty stupid things.

Some people blow off their work and skip classes, others spend days in a drug-induced haze and still others become obsessed with the things, or the people, they haven’t done during their college career.

In these cases, reality gives you a cold slap that could jar you to your senses. Skipping work doesn’t mean it goes away or becomes any less important. Smoking or drinking to your heart’s content isn’t going to slow down time, and it certainly won’t help your bank account. And trying to have as much fun as possible with as many people as possible is draining and distracting.

All people really need to remember is that they aren’t alone. Everyone around them has felt, is feeling or will feel the same exact way.

Being lost and feeling like there is so much left to experience doesn’t mean that you missed out or there’s something wrong with you. It means you’re human. It also doesn’t make the experiences you’ve had any less amazing.

I have practically no doubt that everyone has at least one hilarious college story about that one time they or their friends did something humiliating and woke up the next morning laughing about it, and no doubt that over the course of the last year we’ve all grown in some way to become more like the people we will be later in life.

So, what is there to regret? What is there left to do? Everyone has a life to live outside of these college classes, and we have that to look forward to now. There’s still time left for all of us to experience life.

Hey, all of my sex rules still apply when we go home for the summer, so until next year, you still have a pretty good idea of who you should be doing and how you should be doing them. If you need a quick crash course, however, remember the following: Don’t do anyone you’re uncomfortable with; please, oh dear God, keep using condoms; you just might not be a sexual match with someone, so don’t try to force anything; and, as always, be proud of yourself and be proud of your actions.

Stay safe and have a happy summer!

As the lyrics so minimally explain, President Barack Obama traveled down to Colombia with members of his Secret Service. President Obama’s trip, from April 14-15, was to attend the Summit of the Americas, a gathering of government officials from the Western Hemisphere to discuss mutual issues, values and challenges in the imminent future. This past summit, held in Cartagena, Colombia, was the sixth since it began in 1994.

While in Colombia, 11 of President Obama’s Secret Service agents engaged in sexual acts with prostitutes from Cartagena. The scandal gained publicity when one of the involved agents was accused of refusing to pay an escort the $800 he owed her for her sexual services. Since then, the story has spiraled into a tabloid firestorm, disgracefully gracing the front pages of newspapers around the world.

After these agents, who are supposed to be our most trustworthy and responsible citizens, committed these inappropriate and shameful acts, Spirit Airlines put out a disrespectful ad targeting the values of Colombia. This ad furthered the ill-mannered behavior, while also rudely suggesting that such tasteless mannerisms are indicative of the Colombian people.

This is not the case. The United States, and more specifically Obama and his administration, need to take sole responsibility for what happened in Colombia just a few weeks ago. The fact that one of the America’s own airlines put out this ad to take advantage of the incident is just plain immature.

The ad reads, “More bang for your buck.” Although comical at first, the intentions of this ad cannot be taken as just a light joke for the people of Colombia. Many people view this ad as a completely unfair depiction of Colombia. I believe it greatly tarnishes the country’s reputation, which should actually be improving.

In my opinion, America is the country that should be ridiculed. The actions that took place in Colombia degrade Obama and all of the people who seek to protect our president and indirectly, our country.

While the ad does put the emphasis on sex and prostitution in Colombia, it shouldn’t humiliate that country. The incident should humiliate ours.

We are the ones to blame, and we are the ones who should be disgraced. Spirit Airlines, all of the agents and Obama should be ashamed and apologetic of their decisions abroad.

This semester, a wooden statue went up outside the entrance to the Library Tower. What it is, exactly, may not be immediately clear. Knowing what it is, though, means recalling the years and decades of our campus’ past; it serves as a reminder of who we are and where we came from.

Years ago, before The Object and Jazzman’s, Pegasus was a central place of congregation on campus. It was a simple statue that symbolized the mythical creature, and students flocked there to eat, study, sleep and socialize.

Industrial-looking buildings sprung up across campus with bland and serialized names, the social network became the preferred means of congregation, Binghamton lacked a symbolic social focal point.

With the erection of that wooden statue, we have Pegasus back. You may not see it immediately, its design is abstract, its form ambiguous, but look carefully and you will see the mythical form standing in front of you.

Don’t let that abominable, terrifyingly disproportionate and chrome-covered, possibly steroid-abusing Baxter statue fool you. This school is not a gaudy display of status.

Pegasus is emblematic of that. It is about more than beautifying the campus. It is about tradition. Caught up in the quotidian tasks of studying, writing and going out, it is easy to forget that we are members of the same campus as the students who came before us.

But now, every time you walk along the Spine, every time you go get a cup of coffee in Bartle or walk to the Lecture Hall, you have a symbol to look to. No matter the cloudy skies overhead or the number Science building you are going to, there is something unique on our campus.

I will undoubtedly miss eating my weight in Digestives, Cadbury chocolate and Haribo Fangtastics, as well as walking through Trafalgar Square, Piccadilly Circus and the various serene parks, gardens and squares throughout London. Spending my money on Oxford Street and Camden Market will also be pastimes that I’ll miss, though they were detrimental to my finances.

And how could I forget traveling around Europe! That was pretty awesome.

Ultimately, studying abroad was such a wonderful experience because it presented me with a challenge that I hadn’t encountered during my time at Binghamton. The challenge wasn’t living with seven other individuals in an apartment, learning how to cook, remembering what day to recycle or trying not to get run over by a double-decker bus.

The Semester in London program proposed the challenge of seeing the world differently — seeing it through the eyes of a people and a country with an extraordinarily different history and set of convictions from those of my homeland.

And I eagerly accepted that challenge, unaware of how intrigued and curious I would become by Britain’s culture and history.

Museum visits, theater trips and weekend trips to places such as York, Whitby and Bath not only helped generate curiosity, but also satisfied my interests by piecing together the various aspects of British life so that I could understand the development of the British culture in which I was engaged.

I visited places I wouldn’t have thought of going to in New York, including a mosque and a war museum. I watched plays that I may not have seen in America, which made me examine the cultural relations amongst different ethnic groups in Britain and how those relations differed with the same groups in the U.S.

I learned about the history of various religious and ethnic groups in Britain and even had opportunities to learn firsthand how it feels being British with different cultural backgrounds. I was able to juxtaposed their experiences with my own, as an American with a Caribbean heritage.

In those moments I was able to grasp British culture and hold it up against American culture. I loved the moments in which I was able to comprehend certain trends and cultural beliefs, because it meant that I was involved in the place I was living.

Each day was a new opportunity to learn something new, not only during class, but by walking through the streets, going to clubs and pubs and having conversations with locals. I remember having a conversation with a hair stylist, when I learned about the British school system. Apparently, cheerleaders and school spirit aren’t exactly as popular here as they are in America.

I walk away from this experience perhaps not an expert on the world, but more conscious of the people who are in it, along with their customs. Studying abroad has given me the chance to reassess not only my place in the world as an American, but also examine and acknowledge the different ways in which other people perceive the same issues and concerns that Americans have.

Taking global studies courses can only do so much to expand one’s knowledge of the world that lies beyond the American realm. Having the world as your classroom, on the other hand, makes all the difference.

I understand the appeal of owning an extra Binghamton University sweatshirt for the eternal darkness known as the Upstate winter. And what could be a more fitting tribute to our four, five or seven years of academic excellence than Bearcat “drinkware?” Bottoms up!

So let me be clear: Please do not take the following as an attack, but I must take exception to the college bumper sticker. That’s where I draw the line between school spirit and school status.

When I see someone wearing his school’s apparel, I also see the person behind it. That person has the ability to expand or at least defend his choice. For some, it might just be the quickest step in their morning routine. For others, it could express deep feelings of pride. Whatever the case may be, that clothing symbolizes shared values among the student body and alumni.

These same reasons make bumper stickers deliberately non-interpersonal. It’s a proclamation, not a conversation with drivers on the road. The interaction is minimal — you see the car, associations come to mind, and then it’s gone. Nothing was said about your college experience. What’s left is indistinguishable from the Toyota Camry merging into your lane.

These are one and the same with the common decal, “My son is an honor student at John Doe school.” On the surface, the statement seems to demonstrate an interest in the child, but it is really nothing more than disguised insecurity. Does anyone stuck in midday traffic honestly care about one fifth grader’s spelling quiz?

The college bumper sticker is just another competition for social status, an excuse to publicize the quality of one’s education, whatever that even means. Have you ever heard the expression, “An education pays for itself?” Not if your car becomes a free advertising service. It may be the accepted social norm, but where’s the logic in paying for the sticker when they should be paying you?

Besides, the college ranking system is hardly a standard for objectivity. Most of these guides use overwhelmingly unreliable algorithms, juggling between national and small schools, public and private tuition or liberal arts with polytechnic institutes, while placing selectivity well above affordability or accessibility.

Despite the fact that institutions have diverse, specialized missions and resources, they are still expected to converge into a single comprehensive score.

Even the top editor of U.S. News & World Report — the industry leader in college rankings — agrees that these publications were meant as a reference and not a benchmark for comparison. They are not made by social scientists and are not peer-reviewed, which is ironic considering academia’s institutional abilities are being ignored during research on academia.

Rankings drive reputation like faith drives science. Our perceptions are filled with anecdotes.

Admittedly, I bear the burden of proof. My position is based mostly on principle. But I stand by the notion that merchandising is our conscious decision as everyday consumers. Our impressions are not limited to friends, family and fellow students; we have peripheral effects on the world around us.

If communication reflects character, then these stickers boil the owner down to a brand.

I’ve read John Milton and Bill Shakespeare. I’ve studied Jane Austen and Emily Brontë, Chaucer, Salinger, Hesse and Rowling.

No matter how critically successful the work of the aforementioned authors may be, all pale in comparison to the lyrical brilliance and cultural importance of Carly Rae Jepsen’s autobiographical account of love at first sight, “Call Me Maybe.”

Jepsen’s unparalleled mastery of the English language creates a world so vivid with characters so real that it is near impossible not to listen to her story multiple times in one sitting.

She begins her tale of burning passion with a verse for the record books. It reads, “I threw a wish in the well/Don’t ask me, I’ll never tell/I looked to you as it fell, and now you’re in my way.”

Jepsen’s firm grasp of rhyme scheme and alliteration catapults her into the upper echelon of poetic greatness. Without warning, she thrusts listeners into a narrative arc so entrancing that it isn’t until the end of the second verse that we become attuned to her gritty diction.

“I trade my soul for a wish/Pennies and dimes for a kiss/I wasn’t looking for this/But now you’re in my way.” After hours of intense analysis, I’ve come to the conclusion that Jepsen is standing somewhere in a shopping mall between an Auntie Anne’s pretzel kiosk and a Spencer’s Gifts when she throws some spare change into a fountain.

Jepsen stresses the fact that she didn’t wish for love, but love is what she got. Also, it takes a truly brave writer to openly admit to having no soul.

Consistent with Jepsen’s storytelling style, she leaves her audience in the dark for a solid half-second before shedding light on the physical appearance of her newfound love interest.

“Your stare was holdin’/ ripped jeans, skin was showin’/Hot night, wind was blowin’/Where you think you’re going, baby?” In so few words, she describes her love as having magnetic eyes and jeans that many literary theorists believe to be part of the Abercrombie & Fitch “destroyed denim” collection.

Now I take on the task of approaching what I believe to be the most profound lyrics to ever grace the western canon.

“Hey, I just met you/And this is crazy/But here’s my number/So call me, maybe?/And all the other boys try to chase me/But here’s my number/So call me, maybe?”

Jepsen successfully puts into words her blatant confusion in the situation at hand. It’s almost as if she cannot wrap her head around the idea of immediate physical attraction. Brilliant. She eloquently intertwines her severe lack of understanding with subtle insecurities, rendering this chorus and the work as a whole an instant masterpiece.

Brava to you, Ms. Jepsen. Brava.

The closest idiom I can think of for this situation is not counting your chickens before they hatch, but I can’t quite think of a proper modern equivalent, so we’ll stick with that one for now.

During the last two weeks, I took part in two contests with tantalizing prizes. The first competition was a week-long social media challenge hosted by Campus Activities that tied into its Social Media Week, with a Kindle Fire for the winner.

The challenge itself was composed of a variety of social media-related goals. These goals included posting a photo on the Campus Activities Facebook page, sending them a social media-related Twitter update, checking into five places in one day on Foursquare, scanning a QR code, creating a LinkedIn profile and, as a bonus, participating in a Skype call with Ms. Jennifer Keegin, the event organizer.

I didn’t win, but I received an Angry Birds flash drive, which was still a worthy prize. I mean, I do have a Kindle app on my Droid and I prefer print over eBook in most cases anyway.

The second contest was one that I was more excited about: dinner with Dr. Neil deGrasse Tyson. Ever since news leaked about a month ago that he’d be speaking here, I was looking forward to seeing him in person and hopefully meeting him. I heard about him here and there, and after hearing him on an episode of Chris Hardwick’s podcast, “The Nerdist,” from last December, I could not wait to see him geek out here at Binghamton.

When the contest to have dinner with him was announced — wherein competitors had to submit why they were a badass to the SA Programming Board’s Facebook page or Twitter and accrue the most ‘likes’ — I could almost taste the dinner I’d be eating while sitting across from Neil, but because of flaws, that chance was unfortunately snatched away.

One flaw was the management of the Facebook portion of the contest, as there were last-minute entries that received more attention than earlier entries. There was no separation between submission and voting periods; they were done simultaneously.

Another flaw was on my part, and it’s one that I’m kicking myself for. I botched my Twitter entry, a rookie mistake, so the representatives running the contest on Twitter never received my entry and gave the five opportunities from Twitter to other people. Brushing all that off, it was still a pleasure to hear and see Dr. Tyson lecture the packed Osterhout Concert Theater.

It’s never good to dwell on the past, like with these two contests. So I didn’t win a Kindle Fire. So I didn’t get to meet Dr. Tyson. These things do happen and the only thing one can do is look forward to something bigger and better, like someday upgrading from a phone eReader to a larger eReader, or actually getting to sit down to interview Dr. Tyson.

Hey, one can dream, right?

While men’s basketball was unequivocally the worst (and most publicized) squad BU fielded this year, the team’s misery certainly wasn’t without company. Our men’s soccer team, which is usually a perennial contender in the America East, finished dead last in the conference and finished 5-10-2 overall.

If the winter was going to provide any relief from a disappointing fall, the men’s basketball team didn’t get the memo. The notoriously bad Binghamton Bearcats finished 1-15 in the America East and 2-29 overall. At one point this season, Binghamton was the worst team in the country — the only winless squad out of 342 teams. If not for a victory in the America East tournament play-in game, BU would have tied the Towson Tigers for dead last in the nation.

Women’s basketball didn’t have much to hang their hats on either, posting a highly disappointing sixth-place finish in the America East despite a wealth of returning talent. Women’s soccer won one playoff game earlier in the year, but that team also had a losing record throughout its season.

Now that winter has (almost) turned to spring, our baseball and softball teams are competing, though not at a high level. Men’s tennis is having another solid year, but the squad is the exception that proves the rule.

Most of our few bright spots have been tempered by accompanying bad news. Wrestling was a top-20 team for most of the season and churned out two All-Americans, but coach Pat Popolizio, the architect of the program, jumped ship for North Carolina State. Track phenom Erik van Ingen was an All-American again, but he graduates in May.

And for some of our programs, it’s only bad news. As we reported last week, the men’s basketball team will watch at least two players transfer, most notably starting center and second-leading scorer Ben Dickinson.

We understand that Binghamton isn’t Penn State, and it never will be. Our expectations aren’t and never have been through the roof. But the overall struggles of the majority of the athletic programs have definitely been frustrating, and the future doesn’t seem to be any brighter.

We tasted greatness in 2009, a time when campus pride in BU athletics was at an unparalleled, but synthetic, high. Now, the student body couldn’t be more distant. Student conversations surrounding the department are riddled with more jokes than a joke book. The reality is that the only way to fuel the “Bearcat pride” this University loves to promote is to, well, win — and do it the right way.

In the meantime, there’s only so many ways to say ‘lost’ in a headline, but with the way things look, we better get busy thinking of new ones.