3/4 of the way there

As my third year of college comes to a close I've come to some conclusions. I guess recently I've been feeling especially fortunate and I just wanted to comment on it all. 

First and foremost is the realization that I've been blessed with an overwhelmingly supportive and loving family. If their support wasn't obvious in weekly trips to the grocery store maybe it is even more exaggerated in repeated "good luck on finals" texts in the family group message. Or maybe I have the best family because they show up in State College to watch me play after I tell them countless times not to bother. I think it's apparent that I've been given one of the greatest gifts in life: a family who wants nothing more than for me to succeed and be there to see it happen. 

The second realization is something I've been reluctant to admit, and that's the fact that I'm a fairly lucky person. For the longest time I said I didn't believe in luck, but I don't think I can say I firmly believe that's the case anymore. How could I have so much good in my life if I weren't, to some degree or another, a lucky person? Maybe it's true that to a certain point you make your own luck. I don't think I could make this  much luck in this life of mine. I've been afforded so many great opportunities while in college and can't pretend that there isn't some hint of luck involved. I'm not necessarily talking about luck in a "hit the lottery" type of sense, but more like having such a loving family and incomparable friends. If there is some greater force at work I'm grateful to him or her or it. 

Friends are the third realization I've had. It's not that I was unaware of how good I had it, but sometimes it takes a memorable trip to remind me just how special a bond I have with so many people. I've been "lucky" to not only keep my best friends from high school but to also make a new group of friends in college. Whether it's a group of them in the Bronx, in Oakland, or even in Charlottesville I can't help but smile when I think about the number of people who have had an impact on my life since I started college. I don't know what I did to deserve such a great group of people who take me in and love me, but whatever it is I hope it never fades away. The defining moment of our most recent trip to Charlottesville came at the tail end of the trip. It was a moment that showed me how powerful friendships and genuine laughs can be. We had just got milkshakes and prepared to drop Amanda and her roommate Kara off at the apartment before heading home. As we said our goodbyes Kara started to tear up. At first she seemed to be doing it jokingly, but after a minute or so she was full on crying. Now Kara has only met our group of friends a few times, which made her crying even more surprising. Her crying made my day and broke my heart. It made me sad that we had to leave, but it showed me that even though our group of friends is seemingly just a group of potty mouthed jagoffs, we have the ability to sincerely connect with people. I guess amidst all our dysfunction is an immeasurable level of genuine caring. We bicker a lot, we might even full on fight, but at the end of the day we give a damn about each other and the world at large. And honestly I'm not sure you can say that about everyone you'll meet. 

I doubt I deserve everything that I've come into in my three years of college, but I'm not about to complain. This luck is my luck. I've made some of it, and I've been gifted some of it. I'm aware that there are people out there who don't have what I do. I wish they did, though. 

Everyone deserves those friendships that make the complexities and difficulties of life seen much less daunting. The type of friends you truly feel alive with. The ones you'd kill for and die for. I have that, and I'm eternally thankful for it. 

I guess these three points aren't so much conclusions or realizations as they are acknowledgments, but I still felt the need to get them out there. I don't write all that often anymore, but after this weekend I felt it was necessary to express how blessed I feel. 

NP: Bright - Echosmith

The Best Man

I wrote this blog the day after Pap's birthday this year. I'm not sure what took me a month and a half to post it, but here it is...

January 30, 1936. 

That is the day that the best man I've ever known was born. 

That man is my grandfather, Richard Charles Spine. 

Although I've mentioned Pap quite a lot in previous posts I don't believe I've ever written one specifically about him, which is shameful seeing as he's one of the more influential men in my life. So here's to you, Pap. Hopefully this post can capture even a fraction of how grateful and inspired I am by you.

I can't say I remember the first time I was consciously aware of Pap being my grandfather. You know how sometimes you're able to recount your first memory with a person? I can't do that with him, but maybe that's because in my 20 (almost 21) years of life I've been through so much with him. 

I do remember some of the earliest memories coming from Herbst Road, though. Memories filled with the smell of roses, the taste of lemonade, and the sight of my beautiful grandmother, Nan. I remember the tennis ball hanging in the garage to show the previous generation's drivers how far to pull in. I remember the glass kitchen table where we'd play go fish, the backyard where we'd play wiffle ball from time to time, and I remember the basement. Herbst Road was a magical place. It wasn't anything grand or gaudy, it was old-fashioned and comforting. 

Perhaps my first memory with Pap comes from watching "The Pink Panther" movies together. (The old ones with Peter Sellers not Steve Martin.) Every time I came over he would tell me to pick what movie I wanted to watch, so little me would walk over to the movie cabinet behind the couches and come back with one of the Pink Panther movies. We had to have watched those movies 50 times, but Pap was a good sport. He'd never tell me to pick something else. Instead, he'd sit on the floral couch while I sprawled out on the floor, and tougher we would laugh until we cried at the bumbling Chief Inspector Jacques Clouseau. 

If there is one thing in this world Pap enjoys, it's a good movie. 

Aside from memories of Herbst Road I remember my first (and really my only) golf instructor being my grandpa. I'm sure I remember having a set of those plastic golf clubs as a young child. And as soon as I was old enough to be trusted with metal clubs, I had them. Thanks to him. He would take my small, childish self out to Chartiers in the early evening some afternoons, after the other golfers had finished, and we would walk a few holes and he'd let me play. He never got frustrated with me at that age. 

However, as I've grown I've seen him become perturbed when I get upset on the course. I'm very much like my grandfather in the sense that I want to be the best and I expect to do well every time I step on the course. However, when you only get to play a few rounds of golf a year you can't expect to break 80, but I still expect that. So I get mad and then Pap gets upset. And that's the worst. On another note, it blows my mind how I can manage to outdrive him by 100 yards and still finish a stroke behind him on every hole. I guess it comes down to, "Drive for show, putt for go," as he always says. 

In Chartiers there's a plaque with his name on it for winning some sort of event that the club has. I love looking at that plaque because even though Pap isn't the flashiest golfer, he is one of the hardest working golfers, and that plaque gives him his due credit. Each time we meet up in the summer he has at least one article clipped from a golf magazine that he thinks will help me. (They never seem to, but that's my fault not his.)

It's our little bond, golf that is, and I hope I never take it for granted. Because I know that one day I won't be able to play with him anymore. And I expect that'll be one of the saddest days of my life. 

But sad days and Pap don't really go together. 

Only happy days. 

If there's anybody on this earth who deserved true love it's Pap. And he found it in Nan. And even in losing her he found it again a short time later with Joyce. I think that some remarriages are meant specifically to fill a void, but that isn't Pap and Joyce. They don't pretend to always get along. They're real. They bicker and fight and make up and love and laugh. They also golf together which provides some comic relief when Pap hits a rogue shot and it's Joyce's fault for not knowing where it went. Joyce can take it though. She just rolls her eyes at him and drives off in search of the missing ball. 

If there are two things Pap has taught me in life it's how to work hard and how to joke around.

Pap has always had at least two jobs. He's told me stories about hitchhiking to work at 5 in the morning and not getting home until 12 am the next day. Even in college, with a wife and kid, he managed to work a job to help support them. Pap has accumulated a lot of wealth in his years, and yet he manages to be frugal and never forget how things were when money was tight.

Pap enjoys his money, don't get me wrong. He enjoys taking wonderful vacations all across the world, but he deserves at least that for everything he's done. But he'll never hesitate to bring a coupon for a dollar off a loaf of bread. (Maybe it's just the business man inside him.) I guess he just doesn't see the point in spending more than you have to. Especially since you worked for that money. 

You know that plaque I mentioned earlier? There's another plaque, or maybe even two of them. They're in the basement of the house on Bayard. They're plaques thanking him for his philanthropy. One is complete with a drawing from the Make-a-Wish kid who's wish Pap helped grant. 

He taught me that too. Give back to people who need it.

But I digress from my earlier point about jokes. Pap LOVES jokes. He loves telling "dirty" jokes like this one... "Wanna hear a dirty joke?" ..."a pig fell in the mud."

Now granted, that is by far one of his cheesiest jokes, but you get the point. Pap lives to make people laugh. 

Pap's laugh isn't one of those over-the-top, feigned laughs. It's just a chuckle. Short, sweet, sincere, and honest. Pap won't pretend like your jokes are funnier than the are. He's not here to butter you up. He's here to give you his honest opinion of things. 

Like his honest, totally unbiased opinions of his grandkids and they skill sets...okay so maybe I'm not the best outfielder he's ever seen play, but I'll be damned if he's ever said that to me. In his eyes I'm the best there is, just like Maura's the best field hockey player in the nation, Jenny the best cheerleader, Jarrett the best runner, John the best goalie, Emily the best singer, Joey the best mind. The point is that none of us are actually the best, but Pap would never let you think that way. His unwavering support is seen in his attendance of sporting events (no matter what the weather) and in his words of encouragement. Pap is a realist, but he'll never crush your dreams. 

I remember how excited he was when I got into Fordham and how understanding he was when I said I wanted to leave. 

He wasn't disappointed in me. He just wanted what was best for me, whatever would make me happiest. 

And now as I near 21 I'll be able to partake in one of Pap's other great passions, drinking wine. To Pap wine is a complement to food, it's a history, it's a talking point, and it's an investment. Whenever I get a chance I go over and help him sort and take inventory of his wine I always go.  I'll ask him about wine that I already know the story of just because I like to hear him tell it again. His stories, no matter how many times he tells them, always come with the same passion and excitement they did the first time. Pap's wine comes from far and wide. Some bought before I was born, some gifted to him from winery owners, and others, well others we don't even know how they got there. 

Pap has taught me so much that I can't even begin to relay it all to you in this blog. But I'll give you a few lessons I've learned from my experiences with him.

I've learned that a shot from the rough isn't a hindrance, it's an adventure. I've learned that a tap in putt still needs to be taken as seriously as a 25 footer. I've learned that you can shoot a 95 and still have a great day on the course. I've learned that convenience=cost. And I've learned that an old man can still whoop his grandson by just being smarter.

This blog is scrambled and it isn't pretty, but it is from the heart. 

I'll leave you with a quote I think describes to my grandfather and a song that always reminds me of him.

Of him... the best man I've ever known.

“If you wish to glimpse inside a human soul and get to know a man, don't bother analyzing his ways of being silent, of talking, of weeping, of seeing how much he is moved by noble ideas; you will get better results if you just watch him laugh. If he laughs well, he's a good man.” 

NP: My Way-Frank Sinatra

a death in the family

Even though this title might have given you the impression that a person in my family has died, that is not the case. However, a special part of my family is gone, and even though it probably seems a little silly it's the truth. A few days ago my parents had to put down our dog, Nikki, and I couldn't be more heartbroken.

Even though Nikki was just a dog she was a part of our family. She came into our lives at a tumultuous time. We got her as a puppy about nine months before my dad went away to rehab. She was with us for around 7 years and for the most part she brought us all together a little better than before we had her. 

To me, Nikki was a dog, but she was also a reminder of how I had to grow up. When dad was away at rehab I would be the one to wake up early and take her out to pee. That was a special time between Nikki and I. My dad was always her favorite and while he was gone you could tell she was a little bit let down. 

I'd be lying if i said there weren't times I wanted to strangle Nikki because there definitely were. Like the times you'd take her out to pee in the dead of winter and she'd roll around in the snow for 25 minutes while you'd freeze your ass off. Or the times she'd pee in the house when you really needed to leave but couldn't leave because you had to clean up her mess. 

But the good far outweighed the bad. That's for sure. 

Like the times you'd be having a bad day and be pissed off at the world and she'd come up to you and rest her head on your lap with that innocent look on her face. Or when she'd jump up on the couch and cuddle up next to you despite you telling her not to. 

In a lot of ways a dog is like a child of yours. You watch them grow up and eventually you have to say goodbye. Nikki started out a tiny little puppy who was scared of everything from thunder to her puppy gate, and as she grew up she became more mature and learned what she could and couldn't do. And as she got older she became sick. And as sad as that was for my family I wish I could've been around more for it because I knew she didn't have much left in the tank. I said bye to her before we left for Florida, and honestly I wasn't sure if I'd see her again or not. It turns out that that was the last time I got to see my baby. 

It's right now that I wish I had spent more time with her. All the times I rushed out the door without petting her a few extra times or the times I could've just laid with her and chose not to. I guess that dogs are family, and sometimes you don't really know what you'll be missing until you've lost it. I guess all pets are like that. You sort of take them for granted, never fully realizing the impact they have on your life until much later. 

For me Nikki impacted my life everyday. From taking her out to pee to stepping over the baby gates that kept her from running upstairs she was always a part of my day. I now realize how big a part she was. I wish I could ease some of the pain that my dad is feeling because Nikki was his best friend. She brought out the truly loving side of him. He loved that dog to pieces and would've done anything for her. Hell, he did everything he could up until the last days of her life. Towards the end of her life he would pick her up and take her out to pee, and the night before they put her down he laid on the floor in the sun room with her to keep her from crying, and when he knew it was her time to go he had her put down. 

My dad loved that dog the way any person should love someone else. He loved her selflessly. He put in everything he could and never expected anything in return. The only thing he got back was a little friend that stood about 3 feet tall. He did everything he could and he knew when she needed to go that he had to say goodbye. I know everyone in my family will be hurting for a while, but if there is such a thing as heaven then I know Nikki is up there right now. Probably eating food and rolling around in the snow. That's when she was the happiest.

I miss my dog, but I know she's better off now. And I know that to some degree she helped shape not only me but my family, and for that I'm eternally thankful. 

NP: Kids - Of Monsters and Men Cover

apathy and my ever-uncertain world-view

So here's the deal...I'n going to blog about something other than my life. It's your choice whether you read it or not, and I'll warn you that there are some political views tied into this piece. That means if you're totally against hearing my views then you should close your browser now.

...

Still here? Okay then. I'll begin.

So earlier today I watched a video of a Jordanian pilot being burned alive by members of ISIS. The video is unsettling to say the least. I won't go into too much detail, but it shows the pilot in a cage being surrounded/covered in petrol before being burned alive. To put it simply the video showed just how barbaric human beings can act.

If you haven't been following the news for the past several months, this is just the most recent in a string of video-recorded executions by ISIS. I won't pretend to be some foreign policy expert or resident scholar of international conduct, but what ISIS is doing is beyond disgusting. Videotaping your executions and broadcasting them in an attempt to scare or humiliate the masses is a cowardly thing to do.

So how do we respond to these acts of violence and savagery? Send ground troops? Attack with drones? Sit back and wait? I surely don't know the answer, but I like to think that answer doesn't involve sitting around waiting for more innocent people to die. This world is chock-full of horrible ways for innocent people to die and being beheaded on video should not be one of them. Things like poverty and malnutrition kill thousands upon thousands every single day, so why is it that we (or maybe just I) get so upset when something like this comes into the spotlight? The obvious answer is that we're taught from an early age what is right and what is wrong, and those core values are shook when a video surfaces like the one that did today.

Maybe the reason we get so worked up over these acts of violence is because we don't have video of kids dying from malnutrition, or maybe it's because armies don't stop poverty. People old and young alike love to have something to bicker about. Like, "What should Obama do in reaction to ISIS?!" News stations thrive on controversy like that. And yet, we barely heard anything when Boko Haram wiped out an entire village in Nigeria? Why? A very visible (no video evidence but plenty of proof) crime that is horrific to read about or just think about received very little attention in the media.

I believe we don't hear about things of that nature because we don't have any economic interest in places like Nigeria. ISIS, on the other hand, is terrorizing the Middle East, an area of the world very few can actually describe geographically, yet a place where we as Americans feel an affinity towards because of things like The War in Iraq. I hate to think of lives in an economic sense, but what happened in Iraq and Afghanistan from 2001-whenever you believe we ended our ties there can be seen as a sunk cost. The resources have been spent. The lives, may they rest in peace, have been lost. And further involving ourselves there from this point on has to be viewed independently of what has already transpired.

The US's largest military crusades in Africa subsided 70 years ago when WWII ended. And since we haven't lost resources or lives there in so long, on the whole, we Americans do not care. Then again we have things like AIDs and clean drinking water and genocide to rally behind and support. But do Americans really care? I like to think, perhaps incorrectly, we do, but in my heart of hearts I believe that  people's support of things like clean drinking water and AIDs can be seen as nothing more than fads. They're fun to talk about and support for a while, but after a while they fizzle out and lose their mass appeal. That's not to say there aren't people who who dedicate their lives to those causes because there are. And god bless them. Somebody has to. Everybody doesn't have to, but it would be nice if some did.

I think that each person has a predetermined, maximum amount of caring they can put forth. And each person's particular level is different. Some people care a hell of a lot more than others, and that is just how the world works. Some save it for personal matters while others use it for global problems they themselves have never experienced. I'm not here to say one is better than the other because honestly I don't always take interest or care about half the things I should.

All I know is that the world can be a dark, disturbing place, and you have to decide what and who you're going to care about. So whatever you choose, do it with your entire being. Don't half ass a bunch of things, whole ass one or two. If you're going to stand for something then stand for it until it's resolved. Hell we all remember how well the "Kony 2012" campaign went. Don't let things like that become the norm. Demand answers and solutions to the world's problems. Shine a light on the things people don't want to talk about. Make those around you uncomfortable with the realities of the world.

Avoid apathy at all costs.

Give a shit.

NP: Ain't No Sunshine- Bill Withers

year 3 part 2

I've got a lot to say and I'm not sure I'll get it all out right now. Not because I don't want to, but rather because I'm not sure how well I'll string it together. If you're here, great, bear with me because there's bound to be some nonsensical blabbering shoved in your face in the next five-hundred words or so. Just try to find what's worthwhile and take it with you.

So I am, and for the past two weeks have been, a second semester college junior. That means another full year has passed...(remember to date papers 2015 not 2014). 2014 was an eventful year of my life. I'd rank it right up there with 2012 as far as most productive/most defining years. In 2014 I solidified a great new friend group, maintained a high grade point average, helped pay for my schooling with a job, landed the internship I've wanted since freshman year, played a good amount of baseball with my favorite team, began living with a few of my best friends, met my girlfriend, spent too much time worrying about insignificant things, made plenty of (non-life changing) mistakes, and still ended up right where I was at the end of 2013...wondering where the hell this life I'm living is actually going.

Sure I've made some strides towards solidifying a future for myself. An internship is a great start. Even more than that my job with the football team is a push in the right direction as far as future debt goes. But even with all this good going on around me I feel like an owl, my head spinning 180 degrees, asking who? Who? Who? Who am I? And more than that, where am I going?

No matter how "together" your life seems, there is always an undeniable, unmeasurable amount of uncertainty present.

As I lay in bed listening to my roommates banter, looking up at the stick-on, glow in the dark stars scattered across my ceiling I can't help but feel small. Somehow my queen size bed consumes my entire being and for a moment I realize how minuscule  I am in relation to the world at large. But in that moment I also realize how fortunate I am to have walked/stumbled/crawled my way into the current life I have.

I close my eyes and drown out the noise of the house with my own breathing. It reminds me that I have a lot of life left to give to this world and that there is an unbelievable amount out there for me to experience.

Not to jump around but back to the whole "where am I going idea."

I think I've figured out part of why so many people spend so much of their lives being miserable. Bear in mind this is just my view of the matter, and I'm in no way contesting that it's any more right than anyone else's view.

I think the reason we all worry so much about what we're doing and where we're going is because we feel like, to one degree or another, we have to do something remarkable with our lives. We're so consumed and overwhelmed with the idea of being something else, something that we aren't, that we ignore who we really are. We ignore the things that make us tick. Instead of doing what makes us happy we do what we think will be remembered by those around us.

That's not to say that greatness is something you should shy away from. For god's sake you'd have to be an idiot to ignore greatness. But what I'm saying is this: you don't have to cure polio, you don't have to write another of Beethoven's symphonies, and you don't have to the first person on the moon. Salk already cured polio, Beethoven is long gone, and Neil Armstrong already beat you. So sorry, but you can't do any of that. And even more than that, YOU DON'T HAVE TO DO ANY OF THAT.

You don't have to cure cancer.

You don't have to hit 74 home runs in a season.

And you don't have to be whatever it is you think you have to be because someone told you that you can't be that thing.

Be what you want, and measure success however you see fit.

Instead of measuring success in how many years after your life you're talked about, why not measure it in how fondly people remember you? You know, like curing cancer would be one hell of a rush, wouldn't it? But would it really be any better than seeing a smiling face of hundreds of little kids you help as a pediatrician? Maybe for you it would be. For me, it wouldn't. (Not saying cancer is good. That would be idiotic. Just trying to make the point that monumental discoveries don't define a person.)

See success isn't measured in dollars or in notoriety. I promise you that. Just look up the definition. Success is defined as "the favorable or prosperous termination of attempts or endeavors; the accomplishment of one's goals." 

So don't get caught up being what someone else wants you to be. Or what someone told you that you can't be. Be who you want to be. And be the best damn you that you can. Our time on this spinning sphere is too dmm short to be anything else. 

Do what you love. And do it as often as you can. 

Be an artist or a songwriter. Be an architect or a teacher. 

But before you worry about being anything else, be happy. 

This has gone on long enough. Hopefully I'll see you all again soon.

NP: Chocolate- The 1975 

Home Alone

Welp. It's officially Thanksgiving.

That means it's time for everyone to post on Facebook and Twitter exactly who and what they're thankful for. Most are thankful for their family, friends, and loved ones alike. Some are thankful for things like their education, their rights as an American, or for their recent good luck. The one thing we should all be thankful for that often gets overlooked is our health. I'm lucky to be a healthy 20 year old kid. I realize there are some kids who will never get to experience life the way I have, and as cliche as it sounds, I really am thankful for it.

I didn't write this post to blather about thanks, though.

I wrote it because as I lay on the couch in my apartment at school I can't help but feel overwhelmed. Not overwhelmed in a negative "behind in school" way, but rather I feel overwhelmed by how fast my life is moving.

So often I say how ready I am to graduate and move on, but laying on this couch without any of my friends home I realize that's a bold faced lie. I take it for granted that one of my best friends since 6th grade sleeps in the room right next to me. I take it for granted that another of my best friends lives right upstairs. And I take it for granted that I get to see the best friends I made at college every day in class. I'm so caught up in hating classes that I forget to love all the good stuff.

Next April my friends and I will graduate from college. The scariest part about that is not knowing where we'll all be after graduation. Some will head for grad school wherever they can get accepted and others are going to take jobs. We don't know where those schools or jobs will be or when we'll see each other next. One of the last memories we'll have where we're all together is our graduation.

I imagine getting your diploma handed to you is one of the more bittersweet feelings. It's proof to the world and yourself that you succeeded and made it through "the best four years of your life," but it's also a stark reminder that life does go on. It's a piece of paper that's meant to commend you for your good work while simultaneously telling you to go get a job.

I don't think I'll ever fully be ready for my friends and I going our separate ways. And while I might not ever be ready for it, I am already very aware that it has to happen.

It has to happen because if we all mulled around here for our whole lives we'd probably stagnate. I don't want that. I want my friends to go out and make a name for themselves. I want to visit them, i want to call them and reminisce, and I want to meet their families when they have them. And I can only hope they want the same for me.

This was all over the place. Just like the good old days.

Til next time, everybody. Enjoy your Thanksgiving and be sure to overeat.

NP: Youth- Daughter

In Class

I'm sitting in my Investment Management class right now. I should probably be listening to what my professor is saying, but I think I'll just teach myself this stuff later on. This is a part of me trying to "live in the moment."

After last week finished up I really realized how much I'm stressing about unimportant things. I let myself get sick and worried about one single test grade. How stupid is that? Yeah, tests are important to a degree, but ten years from now I'm not going to remember these grades. And if I keep up this constant worrying and stressing I won't have anything else to remember about college.

These four years are supposed to be, and for the most part have been, the best four years of my life. While I wasn't always happy at Fordham, I never worried about grades like I have this semester. This semester I've let grades control my life and let the important things get away from me.

Thankfully I had this weekend to put things back in perspective. A double date on Friday night with Ally, Pap, and Joyce was a good place to start. Pap and Joyce have an unsurpassed ability to relax me. I could sit at dinner with them for hours and just listen to the stories from their travels. The stories might repeat, but each time they're told they come with the same excitement as the original did. Nights like the one I had Friday are the ones I'll miss most when I've grown up.

Saturday was another successful, lazy day. I went home for a few hours to hang out with my family, and the dysfunction was the same as when I left. A dinner at Ya-Fei is damn near impossible to pass up...especially if mom is paying.

I guess the common denominator this weekend was family. Family is, has been, and always will be one of the biggest contributors to my overall happiness.

As this semester winds down I find myself trying to make up for lost time. And even though it's impossible to get time back, I can move forward focusing on the really important things like friends and family.

Jared, Dave, and I all watched Game of Thrones for a few hours last night and I was reminded again how much I love my best friends. I've known those two guys since I was a little kid and we still find new things to make us laugh every single day. I'm lucky to have friends like them. I guess you could call them lifers because they'll be my friends for life. I've been very fortunate to know such hardworking, humorous, caring guys, and I can't wait until we get to graduate from the same university and set forth on our own individual journeys. I know they'll be successful in whatever they decide to do, wherever they end up.

I don't want to get ahead of myself, though. We still have a year and a half left in 339 Oakland Avenue to make some unforgettable memories and at the very least watch some Game of Thrones.

Hopefully this post was a nice little follow up to the last. I hope everyone reading this is in good health and good spirits.

NP: Starry Eyed- Ellie (at Semetti's request)