Freshman Year

“Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”  
-Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland 

So it is finally over. I am 1/4 of the way done with my college career. Looking back I can say it definitely had some ups, downs, ins and outs, and at the end of it all I would say it ended just the way it should. 

I started my freshman year at Fordham University late in August of 2012. I finished freshman year at the University of Pittsburgh on April 24th of 2013. 

Looking back I don't regret a single thing I did between the start of my freshman year and the end of it. All of those pieces add up to put me where I'm at right now. Since I could not be happier with where my life is I see no reason to regret anything that happened. 

Fordham.

When I started at Fordham I felt out of place. The kids I kept meeting where from family's where both parents were lawyers or doctors. They came from posh New England towns and had houses in multiple places. They seemed to be everything my family wasn't. 

Almost every morning I would wake up and feel sick to my stomach. I would drag myself to breakfast and scarf down some food before I went about the rest of my day. I had an 8:30 A.M. class every single day of my first semester. (Talk about a blessing in disguise.) If it wasn't for those 8:30 A.M. classes I might have never have met one of my best friends. I don't know how it started but one day I began sitting with Julia at breakfast. Through her I met Frances. Those two are thick as thieves and are two of the most awesome, genuine girls I have ever met. Getting breakfast soon became something to look forward to as opposed to something to rush through.

First semester I thought that Ground Floor was going to be the death of me. I thought the work was tedious and the class as a whole to be a bit overwhelming. I believe it was the second day of Ground Floor when I was introduced to my group mates. We were sorted into groups based on a lot of factors. I was the first person in the group because I was from the farthest away. Next was a girl and I think it might have been Caroline or Kaitlin. Then we needed a commuter and got Amar. Somehow it ended up being Amar, Kaitlin, Rachel, Caroline, and myself. I looked at this motley crew and saw four strangers. As the year went on we became closer. Hours spent in the library on our business plan truly made us one. We complemented each other and knew each other's strengths and weaknesses. Many a time Kaitlin and I would sit in the library after everyone left and talk about life. Thanks to Ground Floor I met two of my other best friends, Kaitlin and Caroline. 

Kaitlin had a very positive experience with her roommate, much the opposite of my first roommate and myself. After Ground Floor one day I went to the caf with Kaitlin and Caroline where we met Kaitlin's roommate Lily and her other friend Emily. I can't quite explain Emily and Lily to you but they're a totally different breed. Emily especially. She has these idiosyncrasies that bring me to tears. Lily is another genuinely good person.

Between Julia, Frances, Kaitlin, Caroline, Lily, and Emily I made six great girl friends at Fordham.

One of my best guy friends at Fordham was introduced to me by a kid I met at orientation. His name is Peter. He is about an inch or two shorter than me and is a stereotypical looking Italian kid. Dark skin, dark hair, and some sort of Long Island accent (even though he's from Connecticut). Peter comes from a lot of money and is a very proud person. I've met both his parents and they seem like the type of people who would do anything for you if you needed it. I can't even explain to you the number of hours I spend in Peter's room my first semester. We watched a fair share of movies together and did a fair share of math homework too. (Movies came first though.)

The kid I met at orientation who introduced me to Peter isn't some no name. His name is Steve. He, like Peter and Emily, is from Connecticut. Steve was in my orientation group and we got to know each other through different group meetings and such. Basically we were the only two normal guys in our group so naturally we gravitated towards each other. The one thing I will always remember from Fordham was the last night of orientation when the incoming freshman had a candlelight vigil in front of Keating on Eddies. Whoever was doing the speaking said to look all around and remember those faces we saw, the faces of our classmates for the next four years. I looked around and when I think about it the only face I remember is Steve's. We lit each other's candles and it was a pretty cool moment. Steve really gets me because I think we're pretty similar. I remember the first time we ate together at the caf the first thing out of his mouth was about his girlfriend Rachael. He couldn't stop talking about her. Rachael is another friend I am thankful for. Her and Steve are great together. The fight like a married couple and it's fun to watch them go back and forth. 

They said at orientation that maybe your roommate would end up being the best man in your wedding...whoever said that obviously hadn't roomed with my roommate. I'd have dressed a ram in a tuxedo before my roommate was in my wedding. But what they didn't say was that out of every seemingly negative situation during the year would come something positive. 

Early classes: Julia and Frances

Ground Floor: Kailtin and Caroline (and subsequently Lily and Emily)

Orientation: Steve (and Peter and Rachael by association)

Fordham has so many silver linings it would be impossible for me to say that my time there was a waste. I miss those friends every single day. I made a decision though. I transferred back home.

Pitt. 

I started at Pitt early in January following a shortened Christmas break. I wasn't sure what to expect from my new school. I knew for certain that two of my high school best friends would be there waiting for me though. 

When I got to Pitt I moved all my stuff into my dorm room and met my new roommate for the first time. Greg Kojadinovich. A mouthful of a last name and I'm sure that when you read it on here you'll read it wrong. Greg would understand though, he can't pronounce anything he reads. When I first met Greg I could tell he was a straight shooter. He had been in basic training and AIT while I was at Fordham so this would be his first semester at college. He's from a small town called Phillipsburg which is around 30 minutes away from State College. Greg told me about his girlfriend back home, Lindsey, and about life in his small, rural town. 

If I had to explain Greg I would use a few words to sum him up. One would be anxious. The kid was anxious about any test he takes. He would ask me questions about college and I could tell he was a no bullshit, get good grades type of kid. Another word I would use is loud. Greg loves to cause a scene and make other people feel uncomfortable. The third word I would use is good. Greg is a good person with solid morals. 

As our semester together progressed we figured each other out. I learned not to ask him if I could use his stuff because he would always say "no" in a little shit way before saying "of course you can why do you even ask." I also learned that Greg can't pronounce a lot of words. For example, conscience was thought for most of the year to be pronounced con-science. Greg would always ask me for help revising his papers and he would help me with my calculus questions. We had a nice competition in psych which was fun. Greg, Jeff (another floor mate), and I all had the same intro to psychology class and we would have fun busting each other's balls when one did better than the other. 

The most interaction Greg and I would have was late at night. When we turned the lights off and crawled into our respective beds is when we had our most intimate conversations. We talked about it all. About life, about school, about life back home, and more than anything else we talked about girls. I shared every secret I have with Greg and he told me some secrets he had never told anyone else. It's safe to say that in the course of about 4 months the Army kid from Phillipsburgh, PA became one of my closest friends. Something like a brother. 

Spending all those nights with Greg in the room were nice. Come to think of it I already sort of miss having him around. 

Aside from Greg I still had Dave and Jared. Two of my best friends from high school. I couldn't even begin to tell you how many hours we spent in their room playing X-box and just laughing our asses off. Jared, Dave, and I (along with Ty and Ethan) have some of the best inside jokes in the world. What would seem dumb to everyone else makes perfect sense to us. (Basically, we think we're the funniest people around.) Jared, Dave, Greg, and I along with some other guys we know played in an intramural soccer league every Wednesday. Intramurals gave me something to look forward to every single week.

I've met plenty of other great people at Pitt too. Through Jared's hockey team, Dave's frat, and the guys on my floor of Tower A there was never a shortage of things to do or people to hang with. People like Finger, Edge, Jeff, Rodrigo, Mady, Ashley, and Tocco. 

During finals week I left the library with Mady, Dave, and Jared and crossed Forbes. For whatever reason Dave and Jared were behind Mady and I and when I turned around to see where Jared and Dave were I thought something to myself. I thought, "Those aren't my high school friends. The high school Dave and Jared are gone," I said to myself, "these are my best college friends. They aren't who they used to be and I'm new as well." You see the thing is, Jared and Dave were my best friends in high school, but when I look at them today I see two guys that will likely be in my wedding, not two guys from West A. They are not now who they once were. College has changed them both in one way or another. 

Come to think of it college has changed us all in once way or another. 

"I can't go back to yesterday because I was a different person then."
-Lewis Carroll, Alice In Wonderland 

I have no urge to go back to yesterday. 

However, I do have reasons and urges to go back to New York. I have about 9 of them. I have best friends at Pitt and Fordham. Those ties go deeper than that though. They have individual homes as well. They stretch to places like New Hampshire, New Jersey, Connecticut, Ohio, Maryland, and Colorado. 

I want to take this time to thank some other people that made my first year at college bearable. They were the people there for me when I felt suffocated and trapped or lost and alone. 

Aunt Maureen: thank you for the countless dinners, movies, bus rides, and for giving me a sense of home even if it wasn't my real one.
John: thank you for showing me the greatest city in the world and for giving me a place to stay when I felt I had nowhere. 
Mr. and Mrs. Gannon: thank you for the encouraging words and lovely care packages when times were the toughest.
Mr. and Mrs. Niznik: thank you for birthday wishes, the care package at Fordham, and everything in between. 
Jarrett: thank you for showing me how positive your experience was at Fordham and for any dinners or lunches you paid for. 
All my friends: thank you for everything. 

When I look back I ask myself could I have made Fordham work, the answer is certainly. When I ask myself if I regret leaving my answer is no. Do I think about my friends at Fordham still? I think about them every single day. 

Life is full of things we could have coped with but chose not to. Just like it's filled with sacrifices we unconsciously make on a daily basis. We fight for things and we learn to give up from time to time. Giving up doesn't mean regressing or conceding though, sometimes giving up is the best way forward. I guess it's all about context. 

There were times this year that I thought I was going crazy, but I never worried because as the Cheshire Cat says in Alice In Wonderland, "We're all mad here."

NP: Anna Sun- Walk the Moon

power of the internet

There are a million things wrong with the internet. Viruses, stalking, and false facts posted here or there. But maybe there are a million and one good things. Maybe the power of the internet isn't bad. Sure the internet is an enabler. You can use it to find virtually anything. Be it a person, place, or thing.

You can find people you know, people you once knew, or people you're about to meet.

Maybe the internet will help in this time of turmoil.

I clicked a link from Twitter that took me to Reddit.com's page on the Boston crisis. Hundreds and hundred of people were posting info they had found from scouring the internet. They were doing things like comparing photographs and looking up the make & model of a parking meter that might have video evidence the police could use.

I doubt that everything on the site will be beneficial or even truthful. Some lies might be told and some inaccuracies will be passed along, but if any shred of useful information comes from it isn't that worth it?

The internet can be a dangerous place, if used improperly, but maybe if used with care it can help heal a nation. Maybe the internet can help bring these evil people to justice.

I can't condemn something that has so much potential.

If you want to be impressed go look at all the activity on Reddit. I'm amazed.

We are the land of the free and home of the internet-scouring, counter-terrorism focused civilians. (Brave also, in one respect or another.)

NP: American Boy- Estelle ft. Kanye

26.2 plus

Another day in America and another tragedy. To many it seems like the same old song and dance. While we don't know if this tragedy was caused by some foreign or domestic adversary the truth of the matter is that people are injured and worse than that, dead.

It makes you lose a little hope in mankind, doesn't it?

And maybe it should.

I'm not sure if it's me adjusting to this type of action as the norm, or maybe it's just a different way of viewing the situation. I haven't lost anymore faith in the human race.

It boils down to the age old idea that there is good and there is evil. No amount of good deeds or evil actions will completely erase the other. As long as humans continue to be imperfect evil will exist. And as long as evil exists there will be good to suppress it.

That doesn't mean I'm not sick to my stomach and angered by what happened. Believe me I am. It frustrates me that so many innocent people trained year-round for this event and now will not be able to finish. It's sickening to think that now the last thing in the back of an athlete's mind is worrying about being blown up. That isn't right. They should have to worry about the physical and mental stress, not about the stress of leaving behind a family should they be injured or killed.

It's yet another obstacle in a race that's much longer than 26.2 miles.

But obstacles build character and loss brings mourning. I don't usually pray, but not praying today would be downright selfish.

I'll pray for Boston and for those affected by what transpired today.

And for those of you who plan on running a marathon: keep going. To give up now would mean letting those who did this get the better of us all.

Train on, every single day, and if you start to lose sight of it for yourself, think of those people in Boston who didn't get to finish their race.

Train on. Run on. Pray on. Do it for Boston.

NP: Lover Of The Light- Mumford & Sons

foot to the grindstone

Only ten days left here before my semester ends. Time to get focused up and knock out these finals. Need to do well on my Psych test this Thursday so I can go see my best friends at Fordham.

Other than the necessary school work I've been writing. Nothing special, just a few book ideas that I have been mulling over. Each one is about 200 pages short of where I want it to be, but a start is a start. Not going to give up on these ideas I have.

We'll see where it gets me.

NP: Everything Has Changed- Taylor Swift ft. Ed Sheeran

expectations of grandeur

Today I left calculus office hours and walked into the elevator. As the doors closed I took a deep breath. You see the elevator smelled just like every other elevator I've been on. So I closed my eyes.

When I closed my eyes I envisioned the grandest elevator rides in my short life. Like an elevator ride to the top of the Empire State Building. Or the elevators in a hotel at the beach in Jamaica. In that brief period of time I drew up a completely different scenario than the reality I was in. I envisioned myself in swimming trunks and sandals. I could sense a bellhop next to me, his dark black skin a wild contrast to the all white hotel uniform he adorned. When I exited the elevator I had to be sure not to bump into his cart loaded from top to bottom with a family's luggage.

And just as quickly as I built it up it was gone. I wasn't in a beautifully decorated hallway of a hotel. There was no ornate carpet at my feet. Instead there was a grey linoleum floor leading me out to the rainy street so I could walk back to my dorm.

In the 15 seconds I was on that elevator I was able to construct a new world of sorts. All based off of the smell that presented itself to me upon entering. As quickly as I drew it up reality wiped it away.

That's okay though. That's life. Grandeur isn't permanent. Or maybe it is. Maybe there is something grand about the dull grey elevator and linoleum flooring. Maybe it's grandeur comes from it's ability to morph into something beautiful. Even if it is only momentary.

We build mental constructs of the things that please us. Certain smells, sights, and sounds bring about these memories and allow us to relive them.

In that moment on the elevator I was 17 again. I was in Jamaica and there was nowhere I'd rather be. The fact that it only lasted a few moments isn't bad. It showed me how much more there is. It showed me that the past is all around me along with the present.

Our everyday lives are filled with slivers of our past, large chunks of our present, and shimmers of our future. These slivers, chunks, and shimmers embody who we are and give way to who we will become.

A scent might remind you of a certain place or person. Or maybe a certain person in a certain place under certain circumstances. But times change and scents stay the same. Memories fade and life goes on. That's the way it is. Time, and elevators, wait for no man. (Unless you're one of those people who continually press the "door open" button).

Make your own grandeur and smile about it.

NP: Californication- Red Hot Chili Peppers

the boy

There once was a boy. A boy not so different from any other boy in most respects. Craft of the same fabric, filled with the same stuffing, and raised in the same manner. Born into a world too big to understand. Thrown about in different conflicts and situations that over time made him who he was. Made strong and weak by those around him and those events he so often engaged in. The boy thought he knew it all. He would hear people speak, he could even tell them exactly what they said, but hearing and listening are two different things.

He heard their warnings but he failed to heed them. He heard their cries for change but he chose to listen to himself. A free thinker who followed his own beat. An uncertain boy with morals who oftentimes broke.

In other words he was just like everyone else.

And at the same time so very different.

A wise doctor once told the young man that when you're young you want to be wanted. And that when you've grown, you want to be cared about. He said that some people have a tough time growing and maturing enough to let themselves be cared for. The doctor said that a heart not cared for is a heart that belongs to no one, not even the person who's chest it resides in. To control your heart you must fill it with love and care.

The boy heard but he didn't understand. He listened but he was unaware that people didn't want care. He grew up in an environment where being wanted wasn't worth a damn and where care was real and care was right.

The boy didn't understand how want could exceed care so he turned to the doctor again to seek advice. The doctor told the boy, "Some people are always looking for a better deal." To this response the boy's face became puzzled. "Isn't searching for a better deal a good thing? My mom told me never to settle," replied the boy. The doctor sat back in his chair and chuckled. "It's simple, my boy," he started, "it deals with maturity...because being cared for takes heart, trust, and selflessness. Things not acquired with age, but acquired with growth."

As the boy laid his head back and closed his eyes he began explaining in his own words, "It's about taking responsibility, isn't it? It's the idea that being cared for means letting another person in. Which means that you're responsible for not only what you feel, but what the person who cares for you feels as well. So before someone can learn to be cared for they have to care about themselves. They have to respect themselves....and come to think of it that only covers the topic of letting someone care for you...it takes even more to care for another. Yeah, that must be it."

When he finished his piece and opened his eyes he saw the doctor was no longer there. He climbed off the couch and went to his room. Another afternoon spent processing, thinking, questioning the world that confused him so.

NP: The Boxer- Mumford and Sons

belated birthday

So for those of you who might not know, my 19th birthday was this past Friday. I thought that 19 was a pretty insignificant number, but in fact it's my last year as a teenager. (Doesn't seem too important, does it?)

Well it's another year which is more than a lot of people will get. I'd like to thank everyone who wished me a happy birthday through whichever medium they chose. Special thanks to Pap, Aunt Maureen, Mom, Dad, Moose, Julia, and Amanda for taking the time to call me and wish me a happy birthday. That means a lot to me, so thank you for it.

I had an awesome birthday weekend. One of the best weekends in recent memory.

I'm finding my niche here and I'm making some good, new friends. I like hanging out with Jared's hockey teammates. They're really laid back guys who don't seem to mind a non-hockey player tagging along.

I scheduled classes for next year and I made it out with no classes on Friday which is pretty cool. It's like an extra day of the weekend now.

Other than that my birthday came and went as it has every year. I don't feel any older. I don't feel any wiser. Just feel a little, well I feel a little something.

I feel excited for school to be done in 17 days and I'm ready to go visit my friends at Fordham. I'm ready to see my family this weekend and I'm ready for my last calc exam to be done. I'm ready for things to not be over my head anymore. I feel like I always have these exams and papers lingering over my head makes it hard to think about anything else.

I'm ready for long summer nights doing whatever I want. Doing what makes me happy. That's what I want.

College life is great right now, but I'm ready to work a job and have other obligations.

I'm ready to turn in the pens and paper and take up a less mentally taxing job.

I'm ready for some summer fun.

NP: Let's Go- Matt & Kim

Baby Girl

That used to be my little sister's favorite song. "Dear mom and dad please send money. I'm so broke it ain't funny." She used to play that song on a little, pink Barbie radio that held 1 CD. It was Sugarland and Avril Lavigne for Jenny.

That's who this blog is for. In 10 minutes my little sister won't seem as little. She'll be 16 years old. She will get to celebrate the one day every year where she is only 2 years younger than me.

It's pretty cool having our birthdays so close to each other. Hell, it makes remembering her birthday a cinch. We're diamond birthdays.

If I had to describe us we're probably the most roughed up diamonds you can find. We're rough around the edges and a bit hardened, but at our core is the same shining qualities any other diamond possesses. We're quite a dynamic pair who can, and have, fought like enemies. At the end of the day though, she's one of the few people who really get me.

Today Greg told me that he thought I'm probably more like my mom than my dad. (I agree in a lot of respects.) Then he asked who Jenny was more like.

That question stumped me.

Jenny isn't really like anyone and at the same time she's like us all.

She shares my mom's love of reading.

She shares my dad's stubbornness.

She shares my athleticism. (I'll still beat her in a race though.)

And then in a lot of ways she isn't like any of us.

She's outgoing as hell and could make friends in a room full of strangers. Actually I'll take it to another level; Jenny could make friends in a room full of psychopathic strangers. She's just that kind of girl. She has a way about her where people just gravitate to her. She's fun to be around.

My sister has been through a lot in 16 years. She's seen a lot of bad and she's done a lot of good. I like to think she still looks up to me from time to time.

At 18, almost 19 years old, I look up to my little sister in a lot of ways. I'm also her biggest fan.

She's so full of life and at the same time she loves nothing more than curling up on the couch with a full package of Oreos and not getting up until they're gone.

She's a conundrum of a person.

I've tried my hardest to let her live her own life and make her own mistakes. I don't pry, I only ask from time to time how she's doing and where she's at in life.

She's in a good place. She's doing well for herself.

Don't get me wrong, she can be a bitch, but I love her just the same.

I hope that this birthday and all of her birthdays yet to come are, for lack of a better term, "sweet."

Love you Jennifer Nicole.

NP: Baby Girl- Sugarland

take a step back

I think my Uncle Mike lost sight of how much the world had to offer.

The oldest of six brothers and sisters and the only one with a college degree. That was my Uncle Mike. My dad has told me numerous stories about their childhood together and all the things they got into. My dad told me that Uncle Mike was the scrappiest of the group.

I've written my dad's story on here a thousand times, but today I'll share Uncle Mike's story. Or at least the part of it that I know. 

Uncle Mike is a couple years older than my dad and did a lot of the same activities growing up. Uncle Mike had his bachelor's degree in education from Pitt and even did some substitute teaching. But like my dad he had a dark past. My uncle's drug of choice wasn't alcohol though. 

I don't know when it began and I can't tell you when he stopped, if he ever stopped, or anything else of that sort. Other than substitute teaching Uncle Mike didn't really have a profession. Summers at the cabin, back when he would come up, Uncle Mike would always have on long sleeves. No matter the heat he always had his arms covered. The extra cloth hid his secret from those of us too young to understand. Dad told me that Uncle Mike used to make money caddying and golfing against people. Supposedly he was a real natural at it and was a heck of a golfer. 

In the latter part of his life Uncle Mike bounced around in different apartments in the Pittsburgh area. He had distanced himself from our family thanks to his drug addiction and the only real time we would see or hear from him was at Thanksgiving or Christmas. My uncle wasn't a bad person, he was a lost soul. My uncle did a lot of wrong, but even he had a shot at a silver lining. 

The last time I saw my Uncle Mike was at my grandmother's funeral. Clad in a suit and tie, it was the first time I saw him in anything other than sweats or jeans. At the time It never crossed my mind that I would never see my uncle again. 

Sadly, Uncle Mike didn't find his silver lining, but I know he had one. No matter how far gone he was, no matter how hard he hit rock bottom, no matter what he thought...he had one. 

My wish for my Uncle Mike is that in death he will rest easier than he did while living. 

He deserves that. 

NP: Little Lion Man- Mumford & Sons