Normally, I’d use this space to tell you about butt sex or better ways you can eat out your girlfriend, and for the last two years it’s been one of my favorite things to do a few times a month.
I’d try to get people to think slightly outside of their comfort zones, and not drink the Kool-Aid that says sex and your love life need to be missionary position and hidden in some proverbial closet. To spark a dialogue amongst the student body about sexuality and the importance of being open about our desires, while being slightly comedic. I hope that some of you enjoyed it, and the ones that didn’t — well, you know what they say, ”all press is good press,” so keep commenting because you just prove my point.
But this isn’t about sex and relationships. This is supposed to be a reflection of what Binghamton has meant to me these last four years and a look towards the future. Well, Binghamton has been insane for me, and I assume it has been for everyone, but let me tell you: there were some times I didn’t think I was going to make it out alive, or at least with a degree. But that’s what I loved about it. Even when you lost it all and you didn’t want to turn the page anymore to see what happens next, Binghamton was there with exactly what you needed.
Two weeks before I applied to Bing, I lost my mom and a month into spring semester sophomore year I lost my dad. As I lost my home and my family, Binghamton helped me find a new one. A new one, that picked up my pieces for me without needing to ask. A new one, that brought me flowers in the spring and kept me warm as the winter rolled in, I think y’all know that bone chilling cold I’m talking about.
To most of you, these last four years of school may have been all about 4.0s and making sure you followed the conveyor belt to one of those “Big 4” I keep hearing about, but that was never what I came here to do. I came to find my tribe, to find those people that wanted to play with every color in the crayon box like I did and to find those people that want to dance all night to RuPaul songs.
Binghamton is filled with thousands of kids, and amongst them there are a few weirdos who thankfully heard Sheryl Crow blasting on the Spine and found each other. To me, that’s what these last four years were all about. Don’t take it all so seriously, because you never know when you’re going to find yourself alone.
Take it from me, because when I buried my dad, I thought that was the end. I drove off in the middle of the night to get back to what was left for me to call home, thinking it could never get better now. But when I woke up my tribe was there with me. They’re there when I see a tulip and start to cry because I think of my mom or when I’m dumped by yet another boy and all I need are some chicken wings and vodka soda.
So cheers to the future, I suppose. Who knows what’s next, but when we transcend this world and are all genderless cyborgs living on Mars, at least I know I have a tribe to eat chicken wings with at the Belmar (which also moved to Mars). Get your degree but don’t focus so much on the times in Bartle, but the times in your poorly insulated house Downtown. Where the only way to stay warm is by dancing to “It’s Raining Men” until the sun starts to thaw this cold little city.
To most, Binghamton may be a desolate wasteland, but to me it’s where I found my weirdos. Cheers to the Twilight Zone, it’s been a pleasure.
Michael Rulli is a senior majoring in English.