In my last three articles, I asked the question “Why?” an awful lot.
In the end, this all has to lead somewhere, doesn’t it?
If you’re a nihilist, you can stop reading now because I believe all life has purpose. Even that jackass standing in front of you at the deli yacking away on his cell phone while you’re standing behind him, waiting for him to order. . . even he has a purpose for being.

Just as I could not believe that there was a rational explanation to the misery that exists at Stony Brook, I also cannot and will not believe that we don’t have a path to follow, some destiny to fulfill. I can say with much confidence that my education at Stony Brook prepared me for the life I’m now leading. Unfortunately, unlike what the brochures say, it wasn’t always a pleasant or “exciting” experience. Sometimes I scare the living shit out of myself thinking about the trouble I managed to get myself into. Sometimes I laugh my fool head off and think about how much of a jackass I was.

In my last column, I sounded pretty harsh about both sides of the conflict that occurred within the confines of the student government during my times at Stony Brook. Conflict for conflict’s sake is, and always will be, wasteful. In terms of stated goals, neither side accomplished much. Both sides probably did some good by bringing programs to the students at various times. But a time came when the fighting became wasteful, especially after the arrest of Bill Schwalback. No good came after that and being involved in student government, especially within the confines of CSA during that point between April of 2004 and the summer of 2005, was not fun, pleasurable, or much of what I would call a constructive learning experience.

I look around the office I work in now, setting up my grant writing business. Just last week, I lost my job as a copywriter and am now working full time with my partner and friend Jim in a venture to write grants and get funding for those seeking to further their education. I see a picture of my friend Christine as we were waiting on line for tickets for Star Wars: Episode I. I have another picture of my friend Gina on my desk at the CSA semi-formal take took place in the spring of 1999.

I think about Ruth, a young woman who put in much time and effort to get CSA programs off the ground during the 2004-2005 school year; she said she didn’t want any thanks but she deserved it. I think about Guy who used to tell us stories about giant cockroaches roaming the steam tunnels underground; he didn’t want recognition but he gets it just the same, one storyteller to another.

I think about these times and feel heartache and grief. I feel guilt sometimes for not being mature enough to help in a constructive way. I feel as if my heart has been torn out because I met someone within this bubble of misery that I felt totally compatible with but cannot be with. But then, I stop beating myself up and laugh because you do stupid shit as a kid.