So this is it. Four years of writing for The Spectrum. Four years of college, ending with a brutal, 21-credit semester. In two weeks, I'll be sent off to the world in glorious, blue-cap-and-gown fashion to face a mountain of college debt.
Four years of learning and honing my writing talents, and lo and behold, I catch writer's block right before my long-awaited goodbye column. You'd think four years'worth of taking English courses and writing for a nationally awarded student-run newspaper would prepare me for such a moment. Nope.
I was going to start by saying, "Writing gave me a voice,"but that's a clich?(c). If these past four years have taught me anything, it's that I hate those damn clich?(c)s.
I've also enjoyed writing because it did the exact opposite. I was able to hide behind words. One thing that's always had me interested in writing -particularly journalism -is the guise of objectivity. I could be whatever I wanted within the black ink and 11 x 8.5 sheets of paper. Being able to connect with people through words felt arbitrary; I didn't really care about making connections when I became serious about writing back when I was a freshman in a high school in Brooklyn.
I was a weak, scrawny 14-year-old. I always came to class with unsightly, nappy hair with ill-fitting pants, and was constantly picked on. I didn't do much, as long as I was left alone at the end of the day. I wasn't too much of a fan of people at that point of my life.
Then I started running track & field on a whim and became a bit more sociable. We ran, we jumped, we laughed and talked s**t for the remaining three years. Then when I came to UB, one of the few things that invigorated me in high school was gone. I've stopped running track to focus on being a college student (and I wasn't really all that great of a runner anyway, so there's that).
So, starting from my freshman year locked up in my single dorm room in Spaulding Quad, I dove deeper into writing and eventually sports and music journalism. I needed something to hide within. Something to help me keep running away. Something to make up for my failures as a student. My failures as a friend. My failures as a son.
How could something that felt like such a symbol of my cowardice give such strength? Writing didn't just shelter me; it made me into the man Iamtoday. It gave me something to strive for. Every time I got behind the keyboard, I no longer felt like I was adapting to the world. The world was mine for the taking.
I've never been that much of a fan of John Milton, and honestly, how many people really are? But one thing that always stuck out to me about Paradise Lost was its first line: "Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit."
First. In the middle of the retelling of the tale of man's fall from paradise was a blind author obsessed with being the first. This is my goal, as well.
I think complacency is one of the main problems our generation has to overcome. Complacency is the enemy of progress. Our biggest heroes were driven by the desire to be the first or the best, like Michael Jordan for instance (I know linking Michael Jordan to Milton is a bit random, but bear with me). My family's country's -Haiti's -claim to greatness is being the first black nation in history to gain independence. It's something that I'm very proud of.
The most talented and innocent youths and young adults die because of random circumstance and the evils of others. I'm lucky to be alive. You're lucky to be alive. We should be striving to be the best in whatever we decide to do. Why? Because you're reading this right now. Because you're breathing. Because your biggest worry is what you're going to have for lunch, dinner or what-have-you after you read this column. Catch my drift?
To T.G., thank you.
To Archie, rest in peace.
To my roommate, next year's Spectrum staff and Caribbean Student Association e-board: You can always do better.
Email: brian.josephs@ubspectrum.com
