After three semesters on the job, President Stenger has solidified his presence on campus. We like that we see him around, getting healthy salads in the dining halls and jogging with students. He’s accessible and that’s not something to be taken for granted in a university our size.

President Stenger has also done a thorough job reexamining the University’s priorities, not leaving a stone unturned. His Road Map holds great promise of making Binghamton the “premier public university of the 21st century.”

He isn’t superman, so we can’t give him an A. But for President Stenger to fulfill the potential we know he has, all he must do is continue on the trajectory he’s started. Binghamton will be the better for it.

SAPB: C

Sorry Bri Fri, but really, sorry BU students, because the SAPB blew it this time. We left for winter break feeling great about the variety of big name acts we got first semester. But we were also slightly worried we cashed out early, and we were so right. We can forgive the lack of a soiree, but Yellowcard is where we draw the line. No joke, our Spring Fling show was simply an embarrassment. We know pointing out the obvious is overdone, but the fact that no one in the programming board ever stopped and said, “Wait, this isn’t right,” is just a bad reflection on the SA. It’s a shame because we’re ending a reasonably good year of programming with a bad show, but instead of harping on it, let’s just enjoy the library rave and call it a year. M&M, you’re up.

Student Association: B+

Overall, with one notable exception (see above), the SA E-Board has done a phenomenal job this year. Under Eric Larson, the VPF’s office was the most efficient it’s been in years, Aaron Ricks secured future funding for the Times Readership Program, Daniel Adeyanju was a presence around campus and was well-liked by all of his constituent groups, Derek Gumb successfully launched a new conflict resolution center and Mark Soriano pushed forward with efforts to incorporate.

Our main problems actually stem from the legislative branch. The constitutional changes were underwhelming — serving mainly to clean up the text and reduce the size of the newly renamed student congress. We think it was a missed opportunity not to rename the Vice President for Multicultural Affairs office and disagree with limiting the Vice President for Programing to only SAPB insiders. After all, Friia was a member of SAPB.

Elections, as usual, were not run without multiple violations of SA bylaws that were only fixed after Pipe Dream starting asking questions. But we should note that they were successfully held online for the first time.

Construction: C

Opacity and sluggishness have colored construction on campus.

After months of detours and debris, the Harpur Quad — the area with the fountain outside the library — hasn’t lived up to expectations. It suffers from the same problems as all of Binghamton’s landscaping — it only looks nice during the summer months when most students aren’t around. We think it was a missed opportunity to demonstrate a new direction for campus.

We’re also dismayed by the lulling rate of the University Union Food Court renovation. The Food Court, the veritable heart of student life, has been out of commission for a full year now. It wasn’t clear that renovations were entirely necessary in the first place. Now that we’re knees deep, no one seems to know when we’ll be out. And when we asked about it, we initially received conflicting answers.

The University has also brazenly ignored the say of the Committee for the University Environment (CUE), a group meant to review major projects affecting the University’s natural environment. The landscaping and tree removal around the former Dickinson Dining Hall was conducted with no prior notice and zero regard for CUE’s input. This oversight has become typical of the construction on campus.

Sports: B

Not every university can say two of its sports teams won conference championships, but Binghamton can. Volleyball stunned Albany with a 3-0 title-game victory and men’s tennis captured the America East crown for the sixth straight year. We also saw softball’s most successful Division I season, and wrestling sent four individuals to the NCAA tournament.

Next, we would like to see the major sports — basketball, baseball, soccer and lacrosse — regularly compete for conference titles.

You probably didn’t know your feedback was important, but it was. You made me rethink the way I approach journalism and the way I approach life, and I think I came out a better person because of it. It isn’t much consolation, but it’s true.

My job (news editor) involves a lot of screwing up. It means missing stories, bad reporting, poor writing and factual mistakes. Sometimes it’s my fault, sometimes it’s just the nature of the job. I wish I could say that I never made the same mistake twice, but that just isn’t true.

I’m the person (along with my crew chief, Dan) who made a lot of Pipe Dream’s toughest decisions. But I called the balls and strikes as best I could —a news editor and an umpire have a lot in common. When we’re invisible it means things are going well. When we’re not, it means we’re screwing up. We have to make a decision on every close call.

No umpire’s perfect, and I tried to take responsibility for my mistakes, just like I tried to shrug off the the people here or there who blamed me when their team was losing — even though my decision was right. I tried not to let those people affect me the next time a pitch was close.

What is true is that I put everything I had into this paper, or pretty damn close to it. Most people don’t know what it takes to get Pipe Dream on the racks twice per week. It takes a lot.

I wanted Pipe Dream to be the best paper it could be. I wanted it for myself, for my colleagues and for you, my reader(s). This paper means everything to me; it was my college experience.

I never expected that I would become a community president, but I did.

I never expected to become a manager of a dining hall, but I did. I never expected to enjoy it. But, in some twisted way, I did.

I never expected to come out of the closet, but I did. I never expected that people would be so supportive, but they have been. I never expected to write about it publicly, but I did. Twice. (I guess this is No. 3).

I never expected to join Pipe Dream, yet here I am. I never expected, nor even really wanted, to become editor-in-chief, but I did. I joined Pipe Dream hoping to learn Photoshop and InDesign, and I fell in love. I never expected that anything I published would ever effect change, but several things did. I actually did expect to receive hate mail, and boy did I. But I never expected to receive so much positive feedback too. Yet I did.

Now it’s cliché time: College is about what you don’t expect. No regrets.

***

It wouldn’t be a senior column without some acknowledgements and last jabs.

I would like to thank my parents. I know I haven’t spoken to you guys in over a month and have been ignoring your phone calls, text messages and emails but I couldn’t have reached graduation without you.

Thank you to grandma and grandpa (z”l) for helping me out with tuition. Grandpa, you were the smartest person I knew, and the world lost a great person and a great scholar. I hope I can accomplish at least half of what you accomplished. Grandma, stay strong.

Thank you to everyone I’ve worked with at Pipe Dream. Most of you are some of the smartest people I know. Thank you for allowing me to work with you and accepting me as your editor-in-chief. I know I didn’t really deserve it. My three last requests are that you devote an issue next semester to mental health on campus, that you drive student turnout in the Binghamton mayoral elections and that you feel free to ignore the previous two requests.

Thank you to the Slonims for providing a home away from home. Cooking on Thursday was often the highlight of my week.

Thank you to everyone I’ve lived with for the last four years for putting up with me, my weird habits and my quirky sleep schedule.

To President Stenger: You are visible on campus and make a genuine effort to get to know students. But that’s not all there is to being a great president. The University is growing. That might be a good thing, but it can also be a bad thing. Find a way to reduce class sizes and raise our ranking back to where it should be. Lean on the departments to truly challenge students, not just give out grades and diplomas. Lois DeFleur increased our endowment, our rankings, our reputation and made campus a pleasant place to be. What will you do? Listen to the Committee for the University Environment when pursuing any future landscaping or construction. They exist for a reason. And when it’s time to rebuild the next set of dorm communities, please refer to the Colville Report before you make any decisions. It was an honor to get to know you, and I have high hopes. Also, I’m sorry for being out of salmon that one time.

To Sodexo: My employment with you defined a significant portion of my college career. There were several times I should have just walked out (none the least after you laid me off after repeatedly assuring me I’d have a job), but I truly enjoyed being able to serve the students. My advice to Sodexo’s management and to the University would be to curb waste, provide more comprehensive training, screen employees better and find a way to ditch the union, which protects bad employees and hurts the good ones. I also think that there are many people who have to go. Jim, Jon and Pawel are generally useless and have become complacent. They don’t care about their customers or their employees. The entire marketing department is useless. The Twitter account is a joke and the signage, when it is even existent or accurate, is ugly as fuck. They don’t know what students actually care about and leave it to the units to clean up their messes. But I guess we can’t really expect anything when the district marketing manager’s LinkedIn page is rife with typos and grammatical errors.

Sunil, thank you for taking a chance on me when no one else would. You deserve better.

Thank you to Professor Krasno for practically granting me my political science degree.

Thank you to Professor Henkel for restoring my love of literature and reminding me why I became an English major in the first place. Libby Tucker, the entire department has a lot to learn from him.

Ethan, Mikey, Steven, Ariel, Sami, Shiran and Rachel: Hi.

Jimothy, you’re old, no one likes you and you smel—I mean … you were honestly the best news editor I could have been stuck with. I lucked out that you agreed to take the job after I accidentally … well, you know the story. I’ve been able to lean on you (literally) and ask you for advice. I am happy to consider you a great friend.

And finally, to my office wife/life partner, Jules, we are never ever ever getting back together (like ever).

I have spent the last week or so searching for a thread running through my time here that isn’t my roommates or the greenish-purple bruises on the right side of my body (current count: two on my bicep, one on my thigh and one on my left hand). I can’t. Aside from the skills I’ve picked up in my academic endeavors, all I anticipate holding on to are my friends. Making friends has been the most important experience of my college years.

It doesn’t matter if your friends aren’t the generic “coolest kids on campus.” No one past high school really thinks about that anyway. What’s important is that these are people who make you feel loved and part of something bigger. They grin broadly and wave excitedly when you run into them on campus. They listen to you when you knock on their door in tears.

Don’t forget to do the same. Make time to hang out, even if it’s only five minutes to say hi. Open yourself up to your friends and be there when they need you. Don’t forget to celebrate the originality shining from each one. When you find your people, don’t let go. My first roommate and I were placed together randomly freshman year and we’ve stayed together ever since. And, despite my initial misgivings, I’ll miss my newest roommate too.

It’s not easy to find your people when you’re at a school as large as Binghamton, where it feels like everyone’s rushing from class to lunch to class to studying to practice to downtown and no one has time to listen to you try to introduce yourself.

So part two of my advice for you young’uns is: go to a GIM. I went to around five and ended up only sticking with two clubs. You’re allowed to go to a GIM and decide you don’t want to join. However, if you do, that may be where you find the people you’ve been looking for. That may be where you find that excited greeting from across campus, that ridiculous story you tell all the time, or even that friend you label “best.”

Going to a GIM that I didn’t anticipate enjoying is the reason I’m surrounded by so much paraphernalia which I have to pack. A first-place Sabre medal that I stole from my friend hangs by a strip of photo booth pictures of me and my second roommate. Over the épée the club gave me, a string of Starburst wrapper origami cranes folded by the former vice president dangles not far from a watercolor panda my oldest roommate picked up for me in the city. And then there’s the scrapbook and the pirate hat.

The thick, colorful scrapbook and the pirate hat are the reason I’m writing this column instead of one advocating studying and partying hard. After walking into a surprise going-away party in my living room, I realized that all I can really tell you readers is to find yourself some friends that you love.

I’ve met people here that will live in my memory as bright stars. They shine through the cloudy skies and long winters of Binghamton, and I will always look for their constellations.

Yet some friends will say goodbye and disappear from my life forever. I have to cry for all the happiness I’m leaving behind, and it’s hard to smile about three years of unfulfilled promises and missed opportunities. I know at commencement that something is ending, and this sense of finality is getting sharper every single day.

Contrary to what it says on my DARS report, I’m not ready to graduate. There’s just so much left to do in this blissful world of Binghamton that I cannot see myself leaving. It was a lifetime ago that Al Vos sat us down and said with outstretched arms that Hinman is more than just these buildings. It was right then and there that I knew I had an obligation to turn all this freedom and independence into something worthwhile. There were just too many people who would give everything to be in my position, and I owed it to them to make the very most of college.

I am in awe about how extremely lucky I have been to be able to write this piece right now. As a Long Islander, I am in the top fraction of a percent of the wealthiest individuals on this earth, and I did absolutely nothing to deserve that. But with such serendipitous good fortune comes the responsibility not to screw it up. College is about balancing the freedom to have the time of your life with the discipline needed to graduate. We have all sprung off the diving board of recklessness and suffered the consequences of hitting that ice-cold water. Looking back, those are the mistakes I regret the least, as I still feel that chill before I attempt to make them again. Sometimes you need to spend your Friday night realizing how much you hate looking at art, and sometimes it takes sleeping in your bathroom to figure out when enough is enough.

Yet there are so many kids on this campus who literally sit in their rooms and do nothing. I feel sorry for these people, because when they graduate, they will be holding a degree that does not represent an education. I do not claim to know how to be a responsible individual, a leader or a mature adult, but I’m damn sure the answer cannot be found by staring at a laptop. The most beautiful thing about college is that you can fail out first semester, become the president of a club and everything in between. It’s sink or swim, and too many kids never get into the water.

That is the greatest lesson I have learned from Binghamton University. Independence is nothing without an active mind and an open heart. Freedom demands prudence, and every opportunity is a mistake waiting to happen. College has taught me that it’s better to laugh at my horrible decisions than to be afraid that I might fail, and to surround myself with crazy people so that I’m never laughing alone. To all those who have convinced me to do what I would’ve never done, say what I would’ve never said and go where I would’ve never gone, I am eternally grateful for making me the person I am today. You guys have taught me more than 15 years of academia ever could, and I sincerely hope that every Binghamton student has the privilege of being pulled out of their comfort zones by people like you.

I couldn’t fathom what I would gain, besides an education, that would mark the upcoming four years as the best of my life. I could access the world with the swipe of a metro card at home, but what the hell was there to do along Vestal Parkway? In retrospect, I was scared to embrace Binghamton and call it home, and I shouldn’t have been.

One of the greatest life lessons I’ve learned from being here is that the concept of home is not premised on locality, but rather the comforts that locality provides. And surely Binghamton, in its own way, indulged me in experiences that made these years some of the best I’ve ever had during my academic career.

I’m going to miss the late-night runs to Walmart with my suitemates, eating at Lost Dog, getting a steamer or coffee from Sip of Seattle, limping down State Street in shoes too cute to be bearable to walk in and watching other girls do the same. I’ll miss the service I received at Lourdes when I got bronchitis during the winter months. Surely, a month after graduation I’ll yearn for a large honey milk green tea from The Old Teahouse and a chicken ranch slice from Nirchi’s.

They may not be much, especially coming from a city that has a mall twice the size of the Oakdale Mall in every borough and a coffee shop on every corner, but these were the places and the moments that made Binghamton the place that I thrived in. I didn’t enjoy most of those comforts, however, until my final two years.

If I have any regrets about my time spent here, it would be that I let the grandeur of New York City prevent me from appreciating the jewels that make Binghamton what it is. I wish I would have had the courage to step out of my comfort zone and step off campus. I wish I hadn’t stuck to the notion that there was nothing to do off campus, or that life here could never measure up to home sweet Brooklyn.

Whether you are a freshman or upperclassman, I implore you to spend the remainder of your time getting to know this area. Know the people and the places that shape it, and which consequently have an effect on your undergraduate experience. College is about extending yourself to ideas and possibilities, so take a chance on Binghamton. Perhaps it’s a diamond in the rough, but it’s a diamond nonetheless.

So, to Binghamton, my sincerest apologies and my humble farewell. I will miss you, and remember you as the place I once called home.

In 1/1000th of a second the name “Binghamton University” flashes every memory I have had here: the good and the bad. Listening to people say, “Where were you when…” or “Do you remember when that happened?” when they see my photographs is all part of a great photograph. In a year, 10 years, 25 years or maybe even 100 years from now, when my memory gives up on me, I want to open my time capsule of Binghamton photographs and remember these days. I wouldn’t delete the bad times and I wouldn’t Photoshop out the mistakes. I would leave things just as they happened and learn from them, as I have done for the past four years. This was my Binghamton University experience and I’m proud of it.

I have met some great people in college, and even though my time here is ending, my memories of this place are not.

Thank you, Pipe Dream.

This is my last article for Pipe Dream, and I’ve decided to make it an ode to you.

Because without you, I wouldn’t be here. I would have never descended the Union stairs into the dungeon that is the Pipe Dream office my freshman year only to emerge four years later having discovered something I love.

So one day, when your grandchildren are whining over the profusion of hand-me-down clothes and Easy Mac dinners, they’ll probably have my journalist’s salary to thank, and I’ll have you, for supporting me all the while.

Just kidding. Kind of.

The list of things I have you to thank for can’t be squeezed into a 500-word column. Incredibly, it goes beyond sheltering me and clothing me and feeding me and educating me and loving me.

Dad, so many of the things that I see beauty in, I see because of you — baseball, literature, Springsteen and the overlooked little city where we both grew up.

You taught me everything I know about kindness, and how to be fearless in the face of criticism when goodness and justice are at stake.

Mom, you’ve instilled in me an appreciation for loyalty and love, the two things you’re best at and what I’ve come to value most in a person. I can’t think of anyone who I’d want on my side more than you, and you’ve been there since day one, always as my biggest fan.

You work harder, laugh harder and love harder than anyone I know, and you’ve taught me pretty much everything I know about anything. If I’m half the woman you are one day, I’ll be content.

I had the idea to dedicate this column to both of you because when I first started thinking of all the lessons I’ve learned and the advice I hoped to pass along, I realized that most of it at least started with you.

Dad, as I sit here pecking away at this, I wish I had spent more time on the Mavis Beacon typing program you gave me. And sometimes, when I’m trying to listen to people talk, I start to wish I listened to you when you told me to turn my music down.

And Mom, pretty much everything you ever told me has been correct. Feel free to neglect bringing this up the next time we have an argument.

As sports editor of Pipe Dream, I can tell you that the reason I love sports is because they evoke passion — both immense joy and heartbreaking disappointment. You pour your heart and soul into a team, and if what you get back is some measure of happiness, some level of enjoyment, then you’re doing it right.

For the past four years, I’ve poured my heart and soul into Pipe Dream, and I’ve gotten back more than I could ever imagine.

Pipe Dream and what we do here, it’s a passion for me, and one I wouldn’t have been able to discover alone. So, Mom and Dad, thank you. It’s meant the world.

Love always,

Meg

1. Andy, that time we got drunk in 15 minutes to enjoy one hour of Downtown, I threw up.

2. Tina Ritter, you literally can still log in as “TiniRitter.” I wasn’t joking.

3. The Rat, I wasn’t 21 until a few months ago.

4. I’ve submitted a Bing-U Secret “Hinman consistently smells like 3 asses.”

5. Kristen Dale, that one time I was “doing a bunch of laundry” the whole day, I actually just transferred my clothes from one washer to another washer before drying them.

6. I went Downtown one time just to go to Binghamton Hots.

7. I wrote in that textbook before I returned it.

8. I laughed way too hard when I saw a student modified my eighth grade Earth Science textbook by changing every instance of “ripples and mud cracks” to “nipples and butt cracks.”

9. I brushed my teeth in the shower one time just to say that I’ve done it.

10. One time I drove with a friend to go hiking in a national park 50 minutes away. We couldn’t find the entrance so we just drove around and sang really loudly for an hour or two and drove back.

11. I laughed when I saw that “Gay Street” in Binghamton is curved and not straight.

12. In high school, when we would sign in and out of the bathroom so they could crack down on drug use, I used to sign my name as “Derek Party.”

13. I was diagnosed with senioritis really early in September 2012. I’ve been recovering slowly ever since.

14. Every single time I’ve seen you, you’ve been wearing cat ears. That’s the only thing I know about you.

15. I filmed part of my senior film while I was naked.

16. When doing an anonymous survey in class, I filled in the “name” section of the bubble sheet with “Radley, Boo.”

17. I messaged the wrong friend the phrase “wiggle the ween” one time.

18. I made friends with that little mouse in the cinema editing room. He likes dubstep.

19. I sat in the front row for Neil deGrasse Tyson and he spit on my arm by accident. My GPA has gone up since then.

20. I don’t know a lot of the words to “Bohemian Rhapsody.” I usually just sing some similar syllables, and people never seem to notice.

Ah … finally, a clean conscience.

Bye Binghamton. You were pretty cool.

We understand why Tom & Marty’s made the decision to do this. It’s a small bar and they don’t want people hanging out there only because it’s one of the few free places on State Street. And on paper, we agree with the decision. We can’t blame the bar for wanting only paying customers. It’s not a real cover charge and many people would likely end up purchasing at least one shot-wheel shot anyway.

It always felt as though the Shea brothers, who own the bar, would spin the bar at exactly the right moment: you just finished your pitcher, you’re deciding whether you want another drink — and then you hear “SHOT WHEEL TIME!” We know that this isn’t just coincidence, either. In a past interview, Larry called the “Shot Wheel” a science, and anybody who knows Tom & Marty’s knows he hand picks the drink each “spin” lands on: Washington Apple when the bar is cramped; Swedish Fish, Kamikaze or Jolly Rancher when business is slow; and those special shots for the hardcore customers.

But as long as we have that shot token in our pockets, we feel that we have to watch the shot wheel closely so that we get our money’s worth. And in order to accommodate this feeling, the shot wheel is spun more frequently. It makes the shot wheel less exciting and less spontaneous. Previously, we would be hanging out with our friends or dancing and Larry’s voice would call out the shot and we would get drunk-excited, run over to the bar and just gesture toward the shot wheel. Now, it just doesn’t feel the same. It feels like Larry is trying to prove he didn’t rip us off.

We should be also point out that even with the “cover charge” Tom & Marty’s was still packed.

Look, we understand that this is a new program and that Spring Fling weekend is always a weird one Downtown, and we’re certainly not going to stop frequenting Tom & Marty’s anytime soon — it’s still the best bar on State Street. Larry said that the cover is still an experiment, and he hasn’t decided if he will carry it into the next academic year. If the results come in and the cover has the desired effect of thinning out the less desirable crowd, maybe we’ll jump on board to support the fee. But if not, we hope Larry will do one thing for us — keep the “Shot Wheel” as it is, a pseudo-science the Shea brothers have turned into an art during their time at Tom & Marty’s.

But this is not about the correct use of there and they’re or your pesky tendency to write in the passive voice. If you aren’t getting that by now, there’s not much I can do for you. This is about knowing that what you say matters. This is about realizing that when you write and when you speak, someone is listening.

This is about knowing that an editorial in Pipe Dream has the power to enact real change on Binghamton’s campus. I’m constantly surprised to see that people talk about what we publish here and that it makes a difference. I’m proud to say that as a publication, we have changed policies and gotten people thinking about a lot of important topics over the years.

This is also about realizing that using cruel and ignorant words in writing and in speech hinders the ability of others to obtain equality. That, as we’ve addressed over the past few weeks, jumping to racist conclusions about the bombers in Boston, or extrapolating about entire populations based on the actions of a few, is extremely detrimental to the peace and understanding that so many hold dear.

Every time you say something hateful or selfish, racist or misogynistic, you are perpetuating stereotypes and attitudes that people have dedicated their lives to reversing.

These attitudes can be altered, though. You are shaping the future, with every word you utter and every sentence you write. Language can be beautiful and powerful. It can inspire people, make them think, make them question the world around them. It can lead to action. One man said, “I have a dream,” and these simple words inspired a movement. You may not be Martin Luther King, Jr., but your words can still be meaningful, and they can still make a difference.

I’ll finish with a quote that I heard, of all places, on the safari ride at Animal Kingdom in Disney World: “We do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors; we are borrowing it from our children.”

You have a responsibility to future generations to put out into the world what you’d hope to receive, and what you’d want for them. Choose your words carefully.

If you are looking for your typical “OMG! Binghamton! State Street! Aaaah!” column, then I urge you to stop reading. In fact, I’ve found college nightlife to be quite repulsive for some time now. All the bars smell like urine. And shame.

Instead, I’ve decided that I will put my most recent thoughts about some of you onto paper and offer up some advice. You see, I know many of you much more intimately than you might have guessed.

For the past few years, I have been working at the University’s Call Center, meaning that I was trained to answer the phones for all the major offices, including admissions, financial aid, residential life and health services. Now some of you may think I’m just a phone monkey: a person who simply transfers phone calls. If only that were true.

Rather, I have spent much of my college career serving as your babysitter, therapist, spiritual guide and punching bag. Your parents have also had quite the go at me. Tell them that their bill is in the mail.

My time at the Call Center has taught me much about the minds of students and I must say, I am not impressed. Qualities like humility, courtesy and kindness seem to have disappeared and have been replaced with childish, selfish, rude behavior.

Don’t get me wrong: you aren’t all like this. In fact, most of you are fine. I’m just talking about a select few whose egos are so huge that they make everyone else look bad.

These people are lacking an important bit of knowledge that most of us have already caught on to: you are not special. Now, I know years of unranked school systems, kind words from mommy and everybody’s-a-winner soccer games have taught you otherwise, but life is full of harsh truths.

Here’s the scoop. We are all on a pretty level playing field. Sure, life’s not always fair. But hard work, determination and a little common sense can turn around any situation.

If you want to make something of yourself, then do it. Don’t blame the economy, your parents or immigrants for your failures. Your failures are yours alone, so hike up your big boy pants, and do something worthwhile.

Treat others with the same respect you would like to receive, regardless of whether it’s the CEO of a company you would like to work for or that homeless guy on the corner. You don’t deserve respect without earning it.

That being said, there are a few people I would like to thank. I have earned my degree through a mountain of hard work, and even though it wasn’t their responsibility, there have been many people who have made a point of helping me out along the way.

I would like to thank my parents for making me. Without your genes I would probably be a less awesome individual. I would also like to thank my sisters for always being my best friends. Thanks to you guys, I have no social skills whatsoever.

Last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank my boyfriend. Even on the cloudiest Binghamton days, he keeps the view great.

Stay wonderful, Binghamton.

Well, after four years I’m happy to say I have definitely found more than I was seeking. I’ve learned that it’s important to always find a reason to laugh. I’ve learned that holding on to friendships is better than grasping at grudges.

And most importantly, I have learned that it’s okay to graduate with more questions than answers.

Many students come into college just as I did, ready to find themselves.

In fact, freshman year is devoted to this intoxicating introspection.

It is the time to find out what you love, what you hate, the difference between a few drinks and crying in the arms of the bouncer and, of course, what you can see yourself doing for the rest of your life.

When it comes time for sophomore year, enough barbecues and family functions filled with, “So what major have you decided on?” have generated sufficient frustration to result in that final step through the adviser’s door.

And then, after deciding our majors, we can finally breathe easy and count ourselves among the “found.”

The problem with being found, though, is that you stop searching. After deciding my major, I felt initial relief because I finally had an answer to the incessant questions. But my problems lay within my solution; I quickly realized the problems in having an answer.

When I used to respond “still figuring it out,” the questioner would continue to try to figure me out, attempting to understand me. Once you hand somebody your major, however, it becomes a free pass for both of you.

You don’t have to get your personality across, and they don’t have to try to get to know you; they already do. You’re going to be a lawyer, an engineer, a doctor or a nurse, and that’s all they need to know.

And the effect goes both ways — you begin to start seeing yourself solely as your major.

Well, when junior year came and I was, like many others, buried beneath work, I began to feel obligated to like all aspects of my major and guilty that I didn’t. I started feeling lost again.

This disconnect allowed me to begin the search for myself again, which led to many unforeseen re-discoveries. I started writing more. Columns, short anecdotes and poetry filled the pages with such ease it was almost as if they had just been waiting to be found.

It wasn’t that deciding my major crushed my creativity; the problem lay in the fact that I allowed my major to decide me.

This realization led me to an important truth: you are not your major. And when you graduate, you will not be your job.

Don’t get me wrong, choosing a major is an important step, but it should serve as a force that opens doors, not closes them.

“Finding yourself” is not a one-time occurrence, because once you make that final declaration that “this is me,” you lose the option to be something else. Undeniably, college is about finding yourself, but rarely does this happen all at once.

Almost like a giant lost and found box for us to frequent, life is never out of surprises for us to learn about ourselves. There’s always something different to pick up and, if you see fit, always something to leave behind.

And that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m leaving behind worries that I should “know what I’m doing by now” along with my fears of what’s to come.

And I’m picking up new things about myself every day, a new attitude and an old scarf that somebody has yet to claim.

It’s okay if you don’t have all the answers right now, because it’s the questions that propel us forward. Just remember that this is your life, don’t forget to get lost in it.

My relationship with Pipe Dream’s opinion section has been a tumultuous one. It was never fun getting up earlier than I’d like to on Sunday for short, usually boring opinion section meetings, but then again sometimes there was pizza! At times, I got to write columns on topics which I cared for and could write for hours about. Then again, there are a number of columns I hurriedly scraped together after finding out I missed my deadline. I’m sure you’ve noticed, and I’m sure my editors have loved me for it.

Pipe Dream, however, has only been a small part of what Binghamton had to offer me. Though I came to Binghamton as a prospective student of evolutionary biology, I eventually turned towards majoring in English and philosophy, thanks to a poor Calculus 2 experience and some pressure from my high school English teachers.

I know, I know. I’ve gone from having a stable career to most likely working as the manager of a fast food joint, but I don’t think I regret my decision. I’ve gotten to take some very interesting classes, on topics ranging from metaphysics to persuasion in ancient Greece — with some equally interesting and helpful professors.

And, who knows, maybe this whole writing career thing may actually work out. Ah, who am I kidding?

Even though we all come to university to further our academic endeavors (that is why we do this, right?), there’s plenty more that Binghamton has to offer. There are so many clubs that I don’t think there’s space in a single column to discuss all of them. There are always events going on, including TED Talks and one of the best ones of them all, Spring Fling, which you better have gone to this past weekend.

There are other lesser-known gems like the library’s book sale and the LANime, but that’s why it’s always a good idea to check up on B-Line every once in a while. You know you’re just staring at your email in that one class that lets you bring laptops in. Tweeting about how boring your class is can wait until it ends, so you may as well learn about what’s going on around you if you don’t want to learn about the role elephants had in taking down the Third Reich.

As I’ve written about in another column, it’s nice to get away from Binghamton every once in a while. Each college and the college-town that comes with it has its own events, idiosyncrasies and charm which deserve checking out. I’m sure you have some friends in a nearby college, right? Why not pay a visit to Cornell for Slope Day, or Cortaca (unless, of course, it’s in Cortland and you visit there).

You don’t need to visit a university for a good trip either. Syracuse is 45 minutes away and has some great food in the form of Dinosaur BBQ. If you’re really adventurous you can even take the drive to Philly to get a great taste of history and Philly cheesesteaks. And, if you’re one of the 25 percent of students that doesn’t come from Long Island or NYC, you may as well visit those locales while you’re so close.

This all being said, there are some things Binghamton has which no trip can replicate. Even if you don’t think it’s for you, try to check out the bar scene on State Street at least once. The Nature Preserve is a must-do as well as Binghamton Lake for anyone who enjoys the great outdoors.

Anyway, this is becoming a rant and all I’m really trying to say is that Binghamton has plenty to offer and you shouldn’t squander your time here. It’s hard to balance everything at once with so many choices to make, but those are the kind of decisions you have to make when you’re on your own. I know this is all cliché as hell and Drake put it much better when he said “YOLO,” but I’m not going to tell you how to live your life as long as you live it. Who am I to tell you what to do? I’m just an opinion columnist!

That’s why ‘Gay and Greek’ was a provocative name for a forum held this week by SHADES, a campus group which caters to LGBTQ students of color.

A few years ago, 12 students speaking openly about their experiences with homosexuality in Greek life would have been difficult to fathom. We also would have never imagined an active, professional athlete coming out as gay in a testosterone-heavy environment like pro-basketball, but that’s exactly what NBA player Jason Collins did this past week. This type of boundary breaking is progressive and we hope it represents a trajectory of breaking more stigmas surrounding sexuality.

Events like these reflect a departure from shallow conceptions which align gender and sexuality. We’re about ready to get past that whole heteronormativity thing; in other words, those ugly assumptions that being either a woman or a man brings with it distinct roles and limitations.

Still, as remarkable as these types of programs are, we’re hoping there will be a time when these conversations aren’t regarded as anything special.

Don’t get us wrong; the fact that groups and individuals are having these conversations is a good thing. These conversations have an instrumental role in the transitory period we are in, shifting from a culture of ignorance to one of tolerance, and addressing existing stigmas will pave the way toward a truly egalitarian future.

We know we’ll have reached our goal when out-and-proud athletes and fraternity brothers are taken for granted. We’ll have succeeded when it isn’t anything special for an athlete, frat brother, or anyone else for that matter, to come out and identify as queer.

That athletes and public figures feel more and more comfortable opening up about their sexuality symbolizes progress. But the fact that it still attracts national media attention when an athlete unexpectedly comes out shows how far we are from the goal.

Coming out, ideally, wouldn’t elicit any controversy or attention.

Greek life has the potential to play a significant role in the transition to a more egalitarian campus.

Greek organizations, particularly social fraternities and sororities, purport to have many goals and focuses. Joining a frat is supposed to be about more than easy opportunities to get with the opposite sex. If so much of what it means to be in a frat revolves around community service, brotherhood and networking, why shouldn’t gay men participate? And if the essence of a sorority is sisterhood, and not party-hood, what’s stopping openly gay women from enlisting? Also, why shouldn’t two frats of the same sex, or two sororities, mix?

In these senses, embracing the diversity of sexual orientations would be a good move for Greek life, too. Gay and lesbian brothers and sisters lend credibility to Greek life’s proclaimed philanthropic ideals. And in terms of expanding horizons and challenging the norm, it definitely wouldn’t hurt to mix it up a little bit — literally and figuratively.

The statute passed in New York by Governor Cuomo limited the number of rounds in a weapon to seven, not accounting for government issued police weapons, which have an eight-round magazine. The fact that the law passed so quickly that it forgot about law enforcement should be an indicator that these are rash actions that could be detrimental to the overall goal. The police should always serve as a role model to the citizens that they protect by following all laws, and this law made that impossible.

Although hand guns have gained a lot of attention in this battle, more attention has been placed on the use and ownership of assault weapons. Much propaganda has been used to convince the American public that these weapons are dangerous and that they need to be regulated more strictly. What is often not reported is that there was an assault weapons ban from 1994 to 2004 in the United States. This ban proved ineffective, with an increase in the number of mass shootings during that period. The assault weapons ban did not decrease gun crime because the criminals who perpetrate these crimes do not follow gun laws.

Citizens that legally own guns are almost never the perpetrators of such crimes. Further, when citizens legally own handguns, it deters those who would otherwise commit violent crimes. Criminals are less likely to attack someone if there is a chance that the person is armed and prepared to defend themselves.

What we need is not punishment and regulation of those people who legally own and use guns. What we need is swift prosecution and sentencing for those people who illegally use firearms. By instituting these new gun control measures the government is creating criminals out of law abiding citizens. By making certain types of guns or types of magazines illegal, they are creating a black market for these items that did not previously exist. Things like ammunition and weaponry that can be traced through records of sale will now end up in black market trade, which makes them harder to trace and easier for criminals to acquire.

The law is meant to punish those who commit crimes, not to punish those who have not done anything wrong by simply owning a firearm. Guns are tools. In the wrong hands anything can become a tool for criminal activity and death. We don’t feel the need to enact laws about kitchen knives, although they account for around 10,000 deaths per year in America, so why should firearms be any different? Guns are not dangerous when used appropriately, and we don’t fear them when they are in the hands of police officers or military personnel.

Education is the key. Instead of removing these tools from the population, we should educate people about how to properly handle their weapons and empower people to stand up for justice themselves. Guns don’t kill people, people kill people, and we need to focus our attention on fixing that problem, not on punishing those who already follow the law.

Some people think that you should be embarrassed by your fetish. I want to be the first to say: let your freak flag fly. It’s a crazy, weird world out there — why should we pretend to be any different?

People tend to think that fetishes stem from childhood trauma or some sort of negative experience that individuals fixate on as they get older. While that may be true for some people, it’s not the case for everyone with fetishes.

While there’s really no definite cause, usually fetishes take form because of a subconscious childhood obsession. Couldn’t walk until you were two? You might have a foot fetish from seeing all those feet for so long. Obsessed with “Sleeping Beauty?” Well maybe that explains why you think your partner’s a sexy sleeper.

The two fetishes I just mentioned, foot and sleep fetishes, are actually pretty mainstream. If you think I’m creepy for saying a sleep fetish is mainstream, I just want you to consider whether or not you’d be okay with being woken up to sex.

Being woken up to sex is actually a pretty light case of a sleep fetish (somnophilia for all you braniacs out there). While some extreme fetishes are admittedly hard to process, mild fetishes are extremely common.

There are some fetishes, however, that even in mild form are outside the norm. Remember how I said let your freak flag fly? Do it, but be careful whom you do it in front of.

First we have emetophilia: arousal by vomit. Two girls one cup anyone? Mild cases just involve seeing the act. In more extreme cases, someone might violently make themselves throw up. Fun fact: a Roman Shower involves vomiting on someone for sexual pleasure. If you’re interested in participating in something like this, don’t come to me. But I do recommend you check out State Street at 3 a.m. on the weekends.

There’s also taphephilia: sexual arousal from being buried alive. There are actually websites where you can sign up to be buried alive with a partner and get it on while others watch from computers. This, along with a lot of other “philias” have opposing “phobias.” For example, one of my greatest fears is taphephobia, fear of being buried alive.

Here’s one last fetish to wrap your mind around: dendrophilia, the love of trees. If someone is a tree hugger, that might be a mild expression of dendrophilia. Others take the next step to becoming tree humpers. While they may not necessarily want to make out with trees, they could have intense attractions to nature and want to have sex outside as much as possible. Exhibitionists, these could be your guys and gals.

Given the bizarreness of some of these fetishes, how can I say we all have them?

Fetishes get a bad rap. They’re really anything you like and don’t have to be sexual. You like blondes? There’s your fetish. Tall guys? You’ve got a fetish too.

Honestly, in this modern day and age, nothing would really shock me, and as long as you’re not getting hurt or hurting anyone else mentally or physically, I don’t see any issue with liking to give or get foot rubs a little more than what society says is normal. Incidentally, if you do in fact like giving foot rubs more than what society says is normal, feel free to hit me up any time.

If this simple concept isn’t yet clear, let’s turn to a real life example. Earlier this week, I submitted a column about the Boy Scouts of America and its discriminatory practices against gay and lesbian parents wishing to serve as scout leaders. I took the language in their recent proposal, which states that the screening process is in place to protect the scouts.

After reciting this language, I informed the reader that from there on, my musings were not based on an explicit statement made by the organization, but instead inference. I interpreted the facts as I saw fit, establishing a link between this statement and the belief among many religious pro-family groups that gays pose a danger to scouts in that they are more likely to be pedophiles.

The document never mentions the word pedophile, but it is doubtful that any document issued from such a public organization would do so. This interpretation of facts is based on my own subjective experience as a gay woman with a religious background, offended by false claims about the link between homosexuality and pedophilia.

The editors of Pipe Dream took out my statement on the basis that it was factually incorrect, as the proposal does not mention such reasoning. Although my argument was based on conjecture, it still deserves to be heard. A mere inference of this nature cannot be proven false or true. Subjective experience cannot be proven false or true. At this point, you are probably questioning the value of subjective experience.

Our blind acceptance of the objective fact as paramount above all testimony betrays a chronic laziness and inability to think critically. Anyone who knows the nature of an op-ed reads it with a grain of salt, understanding that the writer is espousing his or her own point of view. Critical thinkers possess the ability to temporarily put themselves in the “shoes” of the writer, without losing a sense of the experiences that shape their own view of the world.

If we begin to edit out interpretations of fact, however fiery and hyperbolic, we are engaging in a very dangerous form of censorship. Never underestimate the power of words. Some say that actions speak louder than words, but the arrangement of words in sequence is an act in and of itself. Omission is an equally powerful act, and I experienced that first hand this week. My words were watered down. What is the point of voicing one’s opinion if it’s deprived of full impact and gusto? Let this be a lesson to everyone, while we are all entitled to opinions, take care to treat your own interpretation of facts with seriousness and extend the same courtesy to others.

Binghamton University is a school of petty and good-natured rivalries. School vs. school, building vs. building, community vs. community, club vs. club. We even like to imagine Cornell shaking its fist at us from atop piles of Ivy League tuition money.

This friendly ribbing becomes problematic when people start seriously suggesting that some groups — for example, majors — are actually useless and shouldn’t be included in a university. More specifically, I’ve been stewing on a Thought Catalog article by Matt Saccaro which argued that universities should get rid of non-STEM — science, technology, engineering and mathematics — fields as majors.

I appreciate that STEM majors are heavily responsible for cutting edge technological advancements. I’ll happily credit my Samsung Galaxy SIII to science. As a political science major, I could better discuss the labor rights involved in building my phone than explain why its camera takes better pictures than my actual camera does.

And that is the difference: discussion. Humanities classrooms give ideas space to breathe, circulate and evolve. Universities are supposed to be a forum for the exchange of ideas. Though this has been made easier by the rise of the Internet, anyone who has sent an email knows that communicating face-to-face allows for expression and clarity unachievable through text. Even after learning how to write clearly and concisely — another benefit of the humanities — talking is still a fundamental mode of communication.

Saccaro suggests that buying books on history and finding an Internet forum would be as useful and effective as a college liberal arts course. Aside from the obvious issues with civility on an Internet forum, there is also the issue of having a qualified moderator.

In classroom discussions the instructor keeps the conversation on track (and civil) and serves to offer an experienced and professional opinion when necessary. He or she is not just an instructor, but also an authority. Of course this authority should be questioned, and classroom discussion serves as a platform for this conversation as well.

A particularly cynical reader might ask, “What is there to discuss? What can the humanities contribute to global knowledge?”

If we understood ourselves and others as well as we thought we did, we wouldn’t have half as many interpersonal issues as we do. The sciences are on the cutting edge of knowledge, but the humanities keep the knife from slipping. Promoting only the sciences is akin to careening along a mountain ridge while your foot slips on and off the brake. As a popular Internet comic once argued: The sciences can help you clone a dinosaur, but the humanities tell you why this might be a bad idea.

An education in the humanities is one in thinking. Everyone can (in theory) think, but the humanities teach you how to do it better, differently and more thoroughly. The humanities teach you how to look at an idea from different vantage points and how to peel it apart. You shouldn’t leave a humanities education thinking the same ideas or through the same processes as you did when you walked in.

In the end, while the sciences seek to understand the outside world, the humanities seek to understand the inner world. A major is more than a chosen expertise. It’s a perspective from which to study ourselves. Juxtaposed against the benefits the sciences bring to society as a whole, and this may seem selfish, but society is nothing if not individuals trying to come to terms with themselves and others. When you choose to study English, you’re also choosing a way of thinking and a perspective from which to examine the human condition.

It’s easy to forget that the humanities are partners with the sciences. An educational model without the humanities would be just as lopsided without the sciences; something a university, as a pillar of knowledge on the face of civilization, cannot afford.

Over the course of the semester, I have done many things with the friends I came here with and the new friends I’ve made. We’ve gone to excellent plays such as “Dead Man’s Cell Phone,” “Forecast” and “God of Carnage.” Many Fridays we would go to the Union for Late Nite, where we bowled, played billiards and saw live shows, including Tony Lucca. Our other friends from Puerto Rico have visited us from nearby and they have had a great time as well.

When I first got here, I was very happy because I saw snow for the first time. The first month here, the new weather was awesome, but then I missed the warmth of my beautiful island. The only thing that kept me warm was the hope that someday it would be warmer. But in spite of living alone in a totally different country where many people speak different languages and are from different parts of the world, I have overcome all the challenges that I encountered.

I remember on the first day of class I received an email called the B-line, and I asked a student named Daniel, who eventually became my close friend, if it was a bus that drives you to events and meetings. I quickly learned what it actually was.

Besides all the activities and events offered by the University, I have been fortunate enough to travel quite a bit since coming to Binghamton. My friends and I have visited New York City where we walked around Times Square, Central Park and the zoo. During spring break, I visited my cousin who lives in Hazlet, New Jersey, and he took me to Atlantic City where we walked around the boardwalk.

After spring break, I met up with a friend at Cornell University since he was helping some high school students from Puerto Rico in a United Nations competition. The trip to Cornell was phenomenal and it made me realize that we have the opportunity to go anywhere; you just need the motivation and the desire to go.

We will miss Binghamton. One Puerto Rican friend of mine loved to go to Einstein Bros Bagels and order a mocha coffee with a bagel. She also liked the fact that in this university there are a variety of races. On the other hand, another friend was impressed by the facilities, such as the dining halls and the lecture halls. I will miss this semester in Binghamton a lot; for the good times I have spent, all the places that I went and how much it has helped me in my growth as a person and as a student, I will always hold Binghamton dear to me.

Unfortunately, most of us aren’t brave or outgoing enough to bridge the cross-cultural divide on our own. Establishing real relationships takes work; that’s why Binghamton’s programs which support a framework for bridging that cross-cultural divide should be commended.

The Theatre Department is running a bilingual production of William Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” In this raunchy performance, students from BU share the stage with students from Duoc Universidad Católica (DUOC) in Chile. This summer, the BU students will travel to Santiago, Chili to perform there with the students from DUOC.

What’s novel about the production isn’t so much the quality of the adaptation, but the bar it sets for cross-cultural collaboration. We’ve all, or at least most of us have, taken courses where we’re supposed to be learning about another country, culture or region — be it Caribbean lit, democracy in Latin America, or Global Interdependencies (G). And what we hope to see is more of this type of cross-cultural interaction in the classroom.

In the age of the Internet, this should be fairly easy. Why can’t we Skype from the classroom with students halfway around the globe? Dorm Room Diplomacy — a relatively new student group — does it. They video chat weekly with people from around the globe, including Jordan, Iraq and Afghanistan. We think that actual interaction with the people we’re supposed to be studying will give us something more important than bookish knowledge; it could give us an appreciation of these people as people, not academic subjects.

Already, some strides have been made. Last semester a class on comparative healthcare was held in conjunction with a similar class at the University of Tampere in Finland. Students got the opportunity to post back and forth online and learn from each other about the differences between their political systems and cultures.

To the University: Keep taking these steps to make us global citizens. To our fellow students: At the end of the day, becoming a global citizen is on you. As cliche as it may be, college is what you make of it. All we can do is tell you that if you take a chance and take a step out of your comfort zone — sit with somebody from a different country, hold a conversation with somebody who speaks a different language — you absolutely will not regret it.

The notion that we could overcome such heartbreak filled me with pride.

On April 15, Boston was attacked, but we all felt the pain. From Syria to New York, people wept and sent their prayers. As a country, and as a world, we came together in support.

One beautiful picture that circulated the Internet was of two young boys from Iraq that held a poster that read, “We Mourn with Boston.”

It’s images like these that remind us that people aren’t all bad, and that the majority of us do want safety and peace for all. It also reminds us that we shouldn’t associate the sick masterminds of such devastation with one ethnic or religious group.

As made very apparent after the 9/11 attacks, Americans are quick to make such associations. It’s sad that we so easily classify an entire group of people as threatening just because of one outlier.

Right after the Tsarvaevs were identified as the suspects for the Boston bombings, rumors spread that they were from the Czech Republic.

The Czech Republic received so much slander that Petr Gandalovic, Czech Republic’s ambassador to the United States, felt it necessary to make a mass media announcement that the Tsarvaevs were in fact not from the Czech Republic, but from Chechnya.

But neither Chechnya nor the Czech Republic should take the blame for what happened; it was two individuals that caused us such harm, not a country, and certainly not a religion.

However, many Americans, including those in our own government, don’t seem to see it that way.

Joe Walsh, a former Republican Rep. from Illinois, discussed the aftermath of the Boston bombings on MSNBC. Walsh firmly declared, “We’re at war, and this country got a stark reminder last week again that we’re at war. And not only should we take a pause, when it comes to our immigration, we need to begin profiling who our enemy is in this war: young Muslim men.”

Walsh’s comment is a perfect example of disgusting racial profiling, and it is this narrow-minded view that makes us so vulnerable to continuous attacks.

Our enemies are not one group of people who practice one religion from one country; our enemies are the individuals that choose to hurt us.

In the wake of the Boston bombings, immigration reform has been under much scrutiny. Supporters of the Gang of Eight’s plan, which is the proposed bill to strictly reform immigration as well as identify the 11 million foreigners living in the U.S., were even more adamant on securing our nation’s borders.

But unfortunately, no one piece of legislation is going to stop the violence, because there is not just one identifiable enemy.

As much of a tragedy as it is that three lives were lost and more than 250 were injured from the Boston bombings, it is also a tragedy that we Americans are still so closed-minded in the face of adversity.

As a country that has already suffered so much, we should grow smarter and more vigilant about how to face this deadly problem, and stop associating our enemies based on prejudice.

Our nation’s willingness to introduce these qualities to people of other nations would suggest that we possess them ourselves, and in fact, that we have mastered them. Yet events such as the Chick-Fil-A scandal and the Defense of Marriage Act in the Supreme Court suggest that we as a nation are just as far from those values.

The Huffington Post recently reported on legislation proposed in Washington, which would allow businesses in the state to deny various services to all members of the LGBT community and others based on religious differences. The lead sponsor of the bill, state Sen. Sharon Brown, told The Associated Press that religion should be protected by the state government.

Lawmakers and zealous Christians alike should not be promoting discrimination under the guise of protecting religion. The better question is whose religion should be protected?

It seems that now more than ever, what has really been on trial, both in the Supreme Court and state legislatures, is our nation’s religion. Do we have a national religion? The answer should be no. The answer should be that the first amendment grants everybody in the nation the right to practice their religion without persecution. Considering the multitude of people who flock to our borders and the faiths they bring with them, as a country we practice not one faith, but many. However, incidents such as DOMA and the proposed legislation in Washington prove that we are a Christian nation, and a bad one at that.

How can we as a nation judge the moral compasses and cultures of other nations when our own moral backbones are rooted in religion as well? How can we judge when our culture is compromised by our misguided laws? No different than other cultures, we operate on our biases and preferences, much of which stems from our faith.

The true issue at the heart of these matters is that the cultural dynamic of America is shifting to one of tolerance and acceptance. As Christians, we should naturally embrace these values since they are the same ones we are taught to practice in our own lives. Instead, we have made a moral regression and continue to persecute others for the ways they live their lives and, essentially, who they are.

In reality, those in favor of discriminating against those of the LGBT community are neither defending their religion nor exemplifying its values. They’re attempting to preserve America as a nation that caters to everyone but the marginalized.

Our moral compass should not be guided by religious bias or any preference or prejudice which disenfranchises a group of people. Christianity is not our official religion and lawmakers should not use its values to advance their own political agendas. If lawmakers are going to legislate from Christian values, they should consider all of them, not just the ones they prefer.

Let’s be honest: you’d rather avoid that controversy altogether and think of the Boy Scouts of America as a basically positive organization, teaching young men the values of self-reliance, survival, good citizenship and responsibility.

Now imagine yourself as a gay parent. It is no longer possible to reconcile the contradictions inherent in the discriminatory practices of the BSA. Recently, the national organization proposed a new statute, a sign of a supposedly more tolerant policy, in which openly gay scouts would be permitted to participate in the Scouts, while openly gay scout leaders would be barred.

The first question that must be posed to the BSA is why. Why allow openly gay scouts and not openly gay leaders? If anything, openly gay scout leaders would be significantly more important to the self-esteem and character development of young men questioning their sexuality. Perhaps the BSA allows openly gay scouts with the full knowledge that most boys quit the organization before puberty when sexual relationships become relevant. There are few openly gay eight year olds.

None of the factions within the BSA are in support of this proposal. In fact, the proposal was established as a compromise, to appease the highly powerful faction controlled by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, also known as the Mormon Church. BSA leaders feared that in passing a policy of actual tolerance, they might upset the loyalties of this faction. Is it coincidental that of the dozens of religious groups associated with the BSA, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints gives one of the largest annual donations?

It is nonsensical to favor one group’s religious preferences over the another’s and still maintain that the BSA is a multi-faith organization. The BSA supposedly welcomes all religious faiths, even affording religious merit badges to nearly 58 faiths. Clearly, though, the organization cares more about its pocketbook than it does about the welfare of the young boys it claims to shape into men. As a private organization, the BSA has every right to exclude openly gay leaders, but the right to do it does not make it okay. Given the BSA’s highly influential role in the life of American children, it is our job as citizens to stand up to lawful bigotry and pressure the organization to conduct itself in a way befitting the current decade.

The aptly named Seminary Day takes place, unsurprisingly, on sleepy Seminary Avenue. Once a semester, when the stars align, preparations are made, and a virgin is sacrificed in the Sun God’s name. Though not a block party this year due to permit problems, the cozy lawn between 13 & 17 Seminary proved a suitable place for a celebration in the sun.

Nirchi’s kept the pizza coming and Moe’s provided mounds of Mexican food to a number of hungry mouths. Crowds of fun and interesting people kept things exciting with good conversation and by throwing unsuspecting victims into the celebration’s modest pool. People even blew bubbles while the drinks were flowing. I can’t imagine a better way to spend a fine Saturday.

Now I know it looks like I’m simply writing this column to brag about my weekend debauchery, but I assure you that there’s a bigger picture here. I’m sure most of us are accustomed to nights spent on State Street sweatily dancing in the dim of bar lights to the same Taylor Swift song from the night before. Sure it’s a living, but it lacks a certain charm that some of its alternatives have and, as the weather gets nicer, such pleasant days shouldn’t be squandered.

It’s never easy to host a party, especially a block party. I have to commend the ragtag group which made Seminary Day possible. The rewards were well worth the effort, though. I’m sure what comes to most people’s minds when they hear of a bunch of college students throwing a block party is a large amount of alcohol and beer pong tables as far as the eye can see, but I want to argue that it’s something much more than that.

Seminary Day provides more to residents than just an excuse to drink and lounge outside. It gives the people of Seminary Avenue and the surrounding area a chance to get together and get to know each other. It’s what creates a much needed sense of community which can survive even after our college careers end.

Tossing around a Frisbee, sharing conversation while enjoying great food and even hula hooping create bonds seldom made on the dance floor of a bar. In fact, it’s events like Seminary Day that make our downtown detours more exciting when we run into people we know. We get together and drink not just for the sake of drinking, but to toss a little oil in the gears as we awkwardly attempt to socialize.

College can be a lonely place if you don’t feel like part of a community. We normally don’t take advantage of the one literally right outside our doors: our neighborhood. Without RAs to push us to get to know each other, it can be hard to reach out to those around us once we move out on our own.

Events like Seminary Day give us an excuse to get off our asses and hang out like normal people, and I’d hate to have such an event die due to apathy. So future inhabitants of Seminary Avenue: keep the tradition alive. And even if you don’t end up living there, take the time to check it out and host events like it in your area.

There’s a European tradition of meeting at a public place for a group discussion of important topics. Those interested in philosophy may attend a café philo, and those interested in science may go to a café scientifique. At one of these meetings, members of the community can exchange ideas, thus broadening everyone’s horizons. These cafés are what inspired Bernard Crettaz, a Swiss sociologist, to develop the idea of a café mortel, or Death Café. In 2010, after Jon Underwood of London read the work of Crettaz, he immediately set up his first Death Café.

“When people sit down to talk about death, the pretense kind of falls away, and people talk very openly and authentically,” Underwood said. According to Underwood, Death Cafés have consisted of elderly people, young couples and even small children brought by their parents to help them understand a death they have experienced.

Death is one of those things that we all have to deal with and learn to accept, but are never really taught about. In middle school and high school we take classes aimed at teaching us how to appropriately and effectively deal with other life experiences, such as health, exercise, sex education, technology, cooking, nutrition, writing checks and laws. I’m not saying there needs to be an entire class devoted to death, but the conversation needs to be placed on the table.

Death Cafés provide a place for people who wish to talk about death or get other people’s perspectives on it. Some people may be too afraid to offend someone or create an awkward situation by just talking to a friend or family member about death. Death Cafés could be a great place for children to go after they have experienced their first death, whether it is a pet or a grandparent. Maybe parents should take it one step further and explain death to their children before they ever experience it, and by making death seem normal, which in reality it is, we can all be more comfortable with it and feel better about it when it comes.

Death is usually avoided in everyday conversation because most people just don’t know how to confront it and, therefore, just subconsciously deny it will ever happen. Sure, we all know we will die one day, but thinking of yourself actually dying can at times be impossible to fathom. Albus Dumbledore once called death “the next great adventure,” and whether you believe in an afterlife or not doesn’t matter because death is an event in every person’s life. If we can truly capture what this means, maybe we can transform how we think about it from a tragedy to a celebration of that person’s life.

Maybe your high school English teacher told you that the personal pronoun “I” has no place in formal writing or never to begin a sentence with “and” or “but.” These proscriptions do more harm than good when internalized completely. Writing from a perspective of “I” has value beyond your personal essay from Writing 111.

When writers are overly sensitive to avoiding the personal pronoun, they end up with awkwardly constructed sentences. Passive voice often serves as a clear indicator that this resistance has taken root. Take the phrase “it is evident.” To whom is it evident? And if it is so evident, why does it need to be said? The sentences I encounter in the Writing Center are often in need of a clear subject. Who is doing what, and to whom?

There are reasons why writers might avoid the personal pronoun in formal writing. Research papers and argumentative essays should prove a point, a definitive thesis. Including phrases like “I think” or “I feel” may seem weaker than “it is evident that” or “it is therefore shown.” Writing in terms of “I feel” may come across as overly emotional. In a research paper, after all, your evidence is supposed to do the work for you. It is not your feelings or inclinations which will demonstrate your thesis.

Still, writers who — consciously or not — avoid the personal pronoun at all costs produce sentences eerily distant from authentic human expression. Instead of “it is argued that,” why not just get on with it and state your argument? If it is a good enough claim, your reader will sense that you are setting out to prove something interesting, controversial or counterintuitive.

Painful instances of passive voice frequently appear in introductions and conclusions. “Following analysis, implications are discussed.” Implications cannot discuss themselves. Who’s discussing the implications? Presumably, the author of the paper. Why, then, the reluctance to acknowledge the implied subject?

A chief reason writers avoid the personal pronoun, I think, is to distance themselves from their work. Psychologically, it’s tough to put yourself on the line with a phrase like “I believe.” When you write that, suddenly you’ve implicated yourself directly. Your work can no longer revolve solely around distant studies and citations. Consider the distance, with regards to personal involvement and voice, between “it is contended” and “I contend.” There is nothing more impersonal than “it is argued.”

That’s why writing from a place of “I” should be an important part of academic writing. It’s naive to think that any essay can come from an objective source, without any bias. The author’s presence and involvement should be cherished, not dismissed. Writing from a place of “I” is the beginning of acknowledging that you have a unique voice to contribute to a conversation.

I think so, at least.

But while the feds may have scared the states into compliance, they certainly haven’t scared the kids. According to the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, more than 70 percent of 18-year-olds have had at least one drink. Worse yet, the average young drinker will consume about five drinks in one sitting.

Truth be told, our laws actually encourage this kind of dangerous behavior. With drinking illegal, kids are forced to take the practice underground, to dorm room pregames and sketchy bars, where they gulp down as much as possible before reentering the law-and-order-Richard-Nixon-obsessed “real world.”

Even worse, these irrational, fantasy-induced laws compel young people to come to the (somewhat accurate) conclusion that the legal system is bogus and unworthy of their obedience. That’s why they get the fake IDs, the pot and the Adderall. If you make citizens feel alienated and unrepresented by the laws that govern them, don’t expect them to follow along.

In a perfect world, our government would face reality and would stop criminalizing seven out of 10 otherwise honorable, hard working college students. Drinking could happen on campus, in a supervised setting, and dangerously traveling around would no longer be necessary; pregame binging would be replaced with responsible, friendly drinking; fake IDs would no longer be necessary, and we would stop handing over profits to people trying to undermine the regulatory system; and, most importantly, cops could start focusing on real crimes, and maybe young people would start having more reverence for the law.

Fortunately, some smart, influential people are starting to move in the right direction. As of this writing, 136 university presidents from schools all across the country have signed a letter circulated by the Amethyst Initiative, which calls on our elected officials “[t]o support an informed and dispassionate public debate over the effects of the 21 year-old drinking age.”

There’s a name missing, however: President Harvey Stenger’s. As the so-called “premier public university of the Northeast” and an instrumental voice in the State of New York, it would certainly not hurt to have Binghamton University behind this initiative, and who better to lead that effort than the much respected President Stenger?

It’s easy: Just visit www.theamethystinitiative.org/statement, print it, sign it and fax it. It’s that simple.

The author C.S. Lewis told us that “You cannot make men good by law.” Mr. Stenger, if you fail to complete this simple task, consider yourself complicit in the failed 30-year initiative to morally cleanse America’s youth with a gavel and some handcuffs.

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I’m off to become the proverbial Binghamton-to-Cornell transfer student, making this my final column for Pipe Dream. My time here was short, but I’ll carry the memories and lessons forever. To my editors, my fellow writers and especially my readers — whose harsh commentary more than once scared my mom into asking me to please remove my picture from the paper — I could not be more grateful. Your passion, hard work and enthusiasm are eternal sources of hope.

We have illusions that sexual assault is a faraway phenomenon.

But sexual violence is neither distant nor rare. The fact of the matter is that students on our campus, like those on any other, encounter sexual violence at staggering rates. One in four college women report surviving rape or attempted rape. We have no reason to believe our campus is any different.

We imagine sexual violence as the cinematic horror story: a blatant attack, often of a woman, in a shady alley, readily apparent as rape. In reality, sexual violence is more complex and has many forms: rape by force; sex compelled by guilt, manipulation or power; molestation; sexual humiliation. Failing to acknowledge these situations for what they are closes the door on the crucial dialogue surrounding sexual assault, and prevents survivors from being able to come to terms with what they’ve undergone.

As research for our sex issue, we probed readers about their sex lives.

“I didn’t know that I was going to have anal sex the first time I did,” wrote one respondent. “My boyfriend tied up my arms and legs and duct-taped my mouth. We had vaginal sex with me bent over my bed and him fucking me from behind, then he slowly pushed his dick into my ass. It hurt, but eventually I eased into it.”

What this respondent describes is rape.

Just because she didn’t say no doesn’t make this any less horrifying a violation or invasion of her body. Sadly, “no means no” is no longer enough. That’s why we need to change the way we speak about and process sexual violence. We are likely the last generation to have been taught only “no means no,” as high schools begin to shift the conversation toward a more definitive standard for sexual assault. What we need now is an era of “only yes means yes.”

On our own campus, we unconsciously harbor notions that perpetuate systems of sexual manipulation. The expectation that a person will put out because they get invited to a formal, for the most part, doesn’t elicit any backlash. Think about it, though. For anyone to be expected to have sex in exchange for being invited to a party is nothing short of prostitution masquerading as college custom. What happens, then, when the naïve freshman isn’t aware of the tacit terms of agreeing to go to a formal?

Sexual assault largely goes unreported because even the survivor has a hard time acknowledging the attack. Survivors — not victims — cannot be met with suspicion. Judgment, in all instances, should be reserved for the attacker. Greater transparency and compassion towards sexual violence will motivate students to reevaluate their pasts.

We can do better than this. We must do better.

Poor timing and striking irony aside, we understand that construction often requires removing trees. But there are established guidelines that the University simply failed to follow.

The Committee for the University Environment (CUE) is made up of respected faculty members in the biology and environmental studies departments, as well as the steward of the Nature Preserve, representatives from the administration and Physical Facilities and several students, among other faculty and staff. The University is supposed to consult CUE before any changes that will have a major impact on the University’s natural environment. The committee’s landscaping policy includes recommendations for tree species that should be planted on campus, goals for improving biodiversity and a 1:3 suggested ratio for tree removal to replanting.

In place of the 30 trees removed from Dickinson, the University plans to plant 11 new trees on site — the exact opposite of what they should be doing. To be fair, Physical Facilities told us that they do follow the 1:3 guidelines and plan to plant according to the ratio with CUE input. But as far as we know, no formal plans have been made to actually follow through, and this wouldn’t be the first time the University ignored CUE’s pleas to care for the natural areas on campus.

A committee like CUE deserves to be revered and to have a prominent role in every construction decision on campus. We can’t expect every landscaper or construction worker to have studied Binghamton’s natural environment to know how drastic changes will affect it. But we have a group of committed, concerned and highly intelligent faculty — CUE’s chair, Professor Julian Shepherd, received his B.A. from Cornell and Ph.D. from Harvard — who have done exactly that. And they’re simply not being listened to.

Take the Science I construction project. Although CUE calls for larger trees, which provide shade and fix carbon, to be planted on campus, the University replaced the trees they removed from the now-Harpur Quad with small trees, shrubs and bushes.

The Dickinson project is equally ignorant of environmental concerns. Some of the trees removed were Austrian Pines, which are not native to this area and are susceptible to infection — in fact, many of the Austrian Pines on campus are infected already. But the University plans to replace the Dickinson trees with, among other species, more Austrian Pines.

CUE is an advising board for the University. They can’t force administrators to listen to their policies, or to show more concern for our natural areas, or even to run construction decisions by them before uprooting more trees. They can and will, we trust, continue to follow up on detrimental decisions the University makes and keep shouting until their voices are heard. And hopefully, watching the University tearing up the center of campus on Earth Day will rouse students enough to join them.