It has been a hell of a ride

Thanks to my wonderful class scheduling and study habits (Whoa, re-runs of "American Gladiators" is on? No need to study for tomorrow's history test), I've spent five glorious years at Eastern Washington University.

Five years.

That's roughly a quarter of my life.

And I can't think of a better place to earn my bachelor's degree. Say what you will about the small-town dynamics of Cheney, it does have a certain charm to it; whether it is how the town shuts down for homecoming bed-races and bonfires, or how the mayor wears jeans all the time and owns a store that sells books on Wizardry, energy drinks and cheaper textbooks.

As a first generation student, there are a lot of doors that have been opened for me by this university. When former sports editor Cary Rosenbaum II and I were able to cover an NBA game in Seattle as working media last winter, I could barely stop shaking with excitement while sitting courtside. There we were, a kid from Inchelium (that would be Cary, and for the record he got the press passes) and an unathletic ginger with glasses (and a jump shot in middle school that scared small pets).

However, there are some things that I haven't done while going to Eastern Washington.

I've never understood those kids who complained about how there's nothing to do at this university but always ended up spending Friday nights by themselves watching "Mythbusters" or skipping class to sit at home and reorganize their popped collar shirt collection.

I've never forgotten that my dad wakes up every morning at around 3 a.m. to go to work as a logger to support his family. And I never heard him complain about the hours. Not once.

In fact, he said that he had the greatest office window view of anyone. So when I would run into someone who thought they had done something special or great, I'd think of my dad and how he blows them out of the water in terms of achievement.

And if there's one thing that EWU does better than most schools, it gives you perspective. It isn't an expensive private school where everybody gets to dress up and go to lavish social balls on a regular basis. It isn't a place where your last name is something important.

It's a place that will give you as much as you put into it. It's a place where kids are working one or two jobs to get an education. It's a place where people are hungry and want to be successful.

I haven't ever regretted coming to this university. When I go to class I'm a student, not a number. When I did all-nighters at Zip's, there were usually some epic stories to follow the next day. You really can't measure how much an education here is worth in tuition dollars. And that really isn't the point. You can, however, measure an education here by memories and friends.

And there are a lot of them.

Anna Koenig, who's been at The Easterner for as long as I have, showed me that friendship is probably the most important thing that a person can have and that it's OK to relax sometimes when it seems like the world is falling apart like a bad Indiana Jones sequel.

Curtis Campbell, former opinion editor for the paper, taught me how to laugh at myself and break through a shell of awkwardness. If it weren't for him, I probably would still be talking to people through a series of half-broken sentences and grunts.

Jake Rehm, my long-time roommate and best friend, showed me that talking until three in the morning about profound things like God, politics, annoying Pittsburgh Steelers fans and Western movies is perfectly all right.

Cary Rosenbaum II, also my long-time roommate and best friend, kept me grounded and aware of when I was being a complete douche. It takes a special kind of friend that makes a MySpace profile of you, puts up all the embarrassing drinking photos that he can find, and then adds your aunts and uncles to your friends list. It also takes a special kind of friend that's the first to notice when something's bothering you.

Eric Schwartz, former editor-in-chief of The Easterner, has spent as many late nights at the newsroom as I. We've probably shortened our life spans by years, put our livers through countless beatings and stressed out over more newspaper pages than John Blanchette. And would we trade it in for anything else? Nah.

Van Carter, opinion editor at The Easterner, is probably the most interesting person I'll ever meet in my life. No matter how much insight, knowledge and experience I garner through the years, I'll still probably be light-years behind him.

Casey Knopik, former Eastern Ranger, rapped with me, tried out for the EWU Dance Team with me and showed me that squirrels are the coolest kind of rodents that you'll ever run across. He's in Nebraska at the moment, but I'm counting down the days until he comes back to Washington and makes this state much more cheery.

Joel Willits, a Lance Berkman look-alike, had this innate ability to make things a whole lot more fun just by walking in the room. I wish I had this ability, but people have this thing against gingers. There's plenty more, but let's not make this the "Brand-sterner" more than it needs to be.

This has been the toughest article I've ever had to write for this paper, mainly because it's hard to imagine coming up with a fitting ending. I don't want to do the whole final episode of "Seinfeld" shtick. And plus, Michael Richards is a real moron anyway.

I just want to thank every professor (there are lots of them) who honestly cared about the classes and subjects that they were teaching. I want to thank every person on campus who had a position of measurable importance but still found the time to talk to me in an interview.

It's the down-to-earth and humble aspects of this university that really make this place special.

It's been one hell of a ride these past five years. I'm going to miss it.