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What more can I say? It’s over?

May 6th, 2010

In 2003 Jay-Z “retired” from rap with The Black Album. The third track was titled “What More Can I Say” and lately I’ve found myself asking the same question.

I already wrote my annual ode to the near-graduates that I felt the need to give a shout out. I didn’t submit any works for The Carroll Review to turn down this year so I can’t print them here and call myself the poet laureate of John Carroll (though I do still hold that title).

I wasn’t injured this past track season so I can’t write an allegory about my relationship with the sport. I can’t pretend to run for mayor for awhile, and I can’t dispense pick-up lines and explain the role of a wingman until I get a little more successful at it myself. I really don’t know what else to say at this point.

I’ve already rehashed a few ideas. I feel guilty shortchanging the reader by talking about the same things over and over. I’m not sure how many more times I can write about the financial challenges of being a college student or say things to try to upset feminists to get letters to the editor (you knew I was just baiting you the whole time, right?), but it’s not many.

Which reminds me, I did what I came to do. I accomplished my goal. I got some letters to the editor and people were upset at me. I don’t write those things to be malicious, I write them as a heat check to see if people are still reading.

This just in: they are.

People look to me to brighten their Thursdays, and I work tirelessly to make sure I give them something they can finish reading and say “I’m not sure if he’s got a few screws loose or what, but I enjoyed it and I’ve been reminded that The Carroll News is indeed award-winning.”

Despite the fact that I’m not always pleased with my final product, I continue to write column after column. Other than being a masochist, why would I keep taking up this monochrome real estate if I didn’t like what I did with it?

Simply put, I’m selfish.

I like attention and what better way to get it than by putting your name and picture in the newspaper every week? I’m not sure, but there have to be some because my pick-up line of “Do I look familiar? Perhaps I’ve been running through your dreams or you saw my picture on page 22 of an award-winning newspaper,” has yet to result in me getting any phone numbers.

Being a newspaper man gets in the way of life and I don’t like it.

I talk to the cleaning staff more than my roommates, I sleep on the newsroom couch more than my own bed, and I have Inn Between for lunch … at 1 a.m. Seriously, I don’t remember what breakfast tastes like. That’s not even the worst part.

If you haven’t seen it on YouTube yet, Chamillionaire had someone get on stage and rap with him at the spring concert. That someone happened to be The CN’s business manager and my best friend at JCU, Jeff Sigmund. I would have loved to be front row for that, but instead I was on my way to New York for a workshop put on by The NY Times.

That scheduling conflict changed the way I’m going to raise my kids. I don’t ever want to miss something that rare and awesome for something that was just another bullet point on a resume I don’t even plan on using anyways.

Good news though, my column is more important than my resume.