They say the best four years of our lives are over, but such a perspective looks at those four years as an isolated block, separated in space, with no relation to the rest of our lives. Though we are approaching last call and are about to get kicked out of this establishment, we will still feel the lingering effects; the buzz doesn’t just go away.

Take the time the summer before you start working to sit down and write out a list of goals, and try to start working on one even before your start date. We are young and full of energy. Let’s not let that go to waste. 

Throughout my four years at Cornell, The Sun has been perhaps the most constant presence in my life. Friends, career paths and several potential majors have come and gone. I’ve lived in different cities, learned how bad I am at many sports and sampled far more of The Chapter House’s beer selection than my gut or wallet could possibly handle. But The Sun has been my one true addiction — and I’m about to get cut off, cold turkey.

It was a warm summer day in the summer of ’98. I was angry after a phone call with my mother. My seven-year-old self sat with a marble notebook and penned a long note expressing my grievances. Though I never gave my mom that letter, I immediately felt relief. This was the first time I’d experience the power of writing.

I like to compartmentalize — we all do. Life is so much simpler when messy things like feelings and memories can be put into boxes, sealed up and put away to be revisited later.

A couple weeks after receiving a personal email from President David Skorton, and the alluring promise of winning $10, I completed the PULSE survey.

I’ve never been good at saying goodbye, so writing this piece is difficult. I debated treating my 43rd and final column in The Sun much like any other. No single topic or issue, though, can encapsulate my four years at Cornell, three of them as a columnist.