Ole Miss: The Delayed Response (Or, things I learned outside the classroom this year).

This one comes a few weeks late. If you're looking to read this in its entirety, settle in—it's a long one. In the first part, I will be addressing lessons I've learned and experiences I've had. Then, I will address everything not specifically related to me. This post is brought to you by brewing thoughts I've had over the past few weeks. Don't worry if it sounds gloomy. A more upbeat post comes next week.

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This past year has been filled with lessons and experiences that I will not soon forget. The people and events I came across, was involved with, and learned from are more numerous than in previous years.

Beginning with this past fall; I had my first brush with "celebrity." Being widely recognized by people with whom I am unfamiliar is a new concept. I prefer to know, personally, everyone who knows anything about me. Having been one of the faces to welcome new students to Ole Miss, however, I am forced to admit that I could not be reasonably tasked with remembering everyone I came across—try as I might. Even into the end of the spring semester, I still "met" people to whom I was previously introduced. But it does speak to the impact one person can have on another. What I learned is that when you make an impression on someone, it obviously sticks. Make a strong enough impression, and you gain someone who will admire you. While not one to actively seek admiration, I count myself successful if I can make a difference to someone.

I have learned what falls within my limits of tolerance. I understand my impatience for the whimsical. I do not mean, by whimsical, the idea of being spontaneous in action and in life. What I do mean to address is the idea of being capricious with human relationships. More specifically, I demand consistency, loyalty, and honesty of myself. Therefore, to a lesser degree, I require it from others and refuse to entertain any lapses in these qualities.

The friendships I developed have shaped me even further. When I say developed, I don't exclusively mean the new ones that formed. I also refer to the ones that were strengthened. I decline to name these people primarily because they may identify themselves. From them, I've gained a better sense of maturity, of self, and that we are not limited to one road before us.

The greatest gains I have made are from my friends. I have a greater sense and appreciation for culture, the ability to truly sympathize with others, the ability to listen and just be a friend, and how to offer guidance when needed.

The most critical lesson I have learned, and probably the most incensing for some readers, is to never place my own needs and desires in submission to the desires of another; especially if they do not run parallel. I used to be a selfish human being, but I managed to reverse that—to the extreme. I even went so far as to designate last year as the year of not ever saying "no." Because I honored most any request made of me, I overcommitted myself. Sure, I made a decent income for a full-time college student, but I found myself on the receiving end of complaints far too often. The reasons were as varied as they were valid. I am grateful for the experience but, to be brutally honest, I might have made a different decision if I had to replay this past year. Overall, I blame myself for that. My commitment, added to my traits of always seeing something through to the end, not yielding when a situation becomes difficult, and even not standing up to unnecessary demands, stressed me more than usual. I was disappointed with the lack of reasonable mediation as I bore the brunt of every single complaint. Though I made adequate time for every commitment I had, it just wasn't at the time of day that others would have preferred. Regardless, I did learn valuable skills and ways to deal with people, so I would not trade that experience for much else.

Again, that is the lesson: Do not place others' desires before your needs, especially if they do not line up.

I came in contact with a handful of interesting people who have, in one way or another, introduced me to another part of myself. I grew substantially more comfortable with myself and came to understand my desires, dreams, goals, and personality. This is also a universal reminder that everyone that enters my life (or yours) does so for a reason. That reason may be to teach one lesson. That reason may be to accompany me through a phase. It may even be that they have entered my life with the ultimate purpose to stay permanently. The challenge is to sort out which it is and not hold on to the wrong ones.

I have also learned the valuable lesson to not judge anyone by my own standards. My standards are my own and apply only to me. When I look at another person, I judge them by their own values. I have found that this eliminates the feeling of being unimpressed with others. It should—humans are, by design, impressive creatures. What we are individually capable of is astronomical. Through this, I have enjoyed being far more patient with people than I ever have in the past.

I have learned to forgive. Having dealt with so much disappointment and anger in the past, I have made the final step in my growth in this area. Simply forgiving someone is cathartic, prevents defensiveness, and fosters growth in both me and the one I perceive to have wronged me. Simply put, I don't hold grudges. Remembering—holding obsessively to—a past grievance is debilitating, prohibits natural human interaction, and is downright silly. The other party probably doesn't even remember the perceived offense.

I've learned to be happy with myself. I had always wanted to be always wildly outgoing (I am, at times), but my personality just isn't engineered that way. And for good reason—I can relate to both extreme introverts and extreme extroverts. I've got the best of both worlds, here. This lesson is critical, too: you simply cannot be happy with another person if you aren't happy with yourself. You'll search the other person for what's "missing," and still won't truly appreciate them. I've seen this happen far too often—not with myself, though.

The last lesson—which I'm still kinda working on—is to seize what you want, and chase it until it's yours. Enough said. The measure of devotion with which you pursue anything determines your success. Too little is nonchalant and doomed to fail. Too much is obsessive and, while perhaps somewhat successful, is ultimately unhealthy.

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Next up: Everything else. [DISCLAIMER: While I might sound like I'm writing with an air of being above all that follows, I'm simply not. My writing style here is to be as detached as possible. And it's my opinion. You don't have to read this section.]

The most disappointing things I've seen this year are laced with complacency, pettiness, and being unwilling to live by what is known to be "right."

Personal vendettas seemed to be highly prevalent. I've seen actions taken by those who they would not affect, just to spite those whom they would. To be so vindictive and to hold such a grudge is childish, unprofessional, and indicative of immaturity. Unfortunately, malicious intent can and does breed anger all around, marring whatever noble intentions were originally held.

Competition, arguably, brings out the best and the worst in all of us. It is irresponsible to cast aspersions, as the terms "clean," "dirty," "respectable," and "questionable" are highly suggestive. In an arena where there are limited rules of engagement and the use of intangible assets are uninhibited by nature, "doing what it takes to win" takes on an ambiguous meaning. Being victorious just might mean a competitor draws upon everything at their disposal; which is ingenious in the end. "Shrewd" is synonymous with resourceful. Granted, there are moral debates that may still rage on, but to detract from the victorious for using perceived tactics that another may have been unable to capitalize on is, sadly, to decry the legitimacy of triumph. Character assassination, while theoretically not an illegitimate tactic, does (ironically) speak to the character of the "assassin." This is where I end my synopsis of competition; as this can easily drag out into an extended entry of its own (actually...it already had a few months ago).

I'll be blunt here. In my field of study, it is generally accepted as a holy tenet that knowledge is to be investigated and, following careful dissection and deliberation, disseminated for public approval. Here is where the deadly force of complacency rears its head. Being unwilling to pursue what might have been a career-building move denotes fear of pulling the trigger on an action that must be taken. Fear of repercussion (for self or others), immobilizing as it may be, may draw suspicion. Such decisions separate the adequate from the excellent.

At the end of the day, however, it isn't what others do that should be important to us. What should remain in importance are our own aspirations and our own journeys to reach our goals.

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2011-2012 have been very formative years for us all. I've always been someone who looks for life lessons in everything; especially as they pertain to me. Some sort of discerning wisdom I inherited, I suppose.

In other news, I've nearly finished my first month of Insanity. It rocks.

My (30 Second) Interview with New Ole Miss Athletic Director Ross Bjork

Pardon the blatant SEO'd headline (Search Engine Optimization).

Monday night, April 16th, was the Rebels' Choice Awards. I was out on the red carpet in front of the Gertrude C. Ford Center with my fellow Athletic Department Productions interns, preparing to interview some predetermined figures. Of the interviewers, I was the only male. Which is fine with me; I got to track down and interview candidates for coach of the year.

Side note—I find that I'm not too bothered by women standing taller than me. Most of my co-interns are my height or shorter (there is one exception, and she's pretty tall anyway). Now, I'm 5'10", 21 years old, and having growing pains again, but it was a change of pace to see things from the view of my *ahem* shorter friends.

Anyway, in between locating and interviewing coaches, and operating the camera for the ladies as they also interview, one of the other cameramen spots our new AD. He lets me know and, of course, I man up and approach the man dead-on.

...Okay, sort of.

He was in conversation, so I just stood within earshot, close enough for him to look me in the eye before continuing to talk. I stood for a moment, then decided to come back later. I moseyed around the carpet before noticing that he was done talking, then approached him again.

Within about 10 seconds of actually meeting Ross Bjork, I was elated that Ole Miss had chosen a strong leader for our athletic department.

Firm handshake, strong voice, eye contact...all things you would expect from a professional. But you can also notice his resolve. He's around my height, and has a powerful presence. It made me even more confident in our athletic program.

The interview went solidly. It was his first time ever being at the awards show, and he had only arrived in Oxford the night before. He told me that he understands why no one ever wants to leave Ole Miss (I'll update this post with video when it becomes available).

In the end, I was again overjoyed that the University found a strong leader for the job and has avoided charges of nepotism in hiring him.

Togo Update

The first meeting happened today (at least the first one involving me). Engineers Without Borders is elated to have a journalism student with them. I've been corrected; we will be in Africa from August 6th to the 13th, approximately. EWB has committed about 10-15 years to Togo. French will be most commonly spoken when we go. My linguistic horizon goes to Latin and Spanish, with a little cognition into related languages. The village we visit will be friendly to Americans and photography. It is very clear how pivotal my role is. I will be documenting everything. I'm taking 1st-person notes during meetings, planning shots (odd, since I have no idea what to look for), and thinking of documentary angles.

More updates as they become available.

And Here It Goes.

One day, after class, my journalism professor asked me to stay behind to discuss something. It turns out that the journalism school wants to send me as an attaché to engineering students who are working through Engineers Without Borders.

Destination: Togo. Located in West Africa, this country has everything that will outright kill any perfectly sheltered, first-world American (read: don't touch anything).

And I'm excited. My job will be to work with my professor to produce both a documentary and a photo series about what these students are doing.

Travel has always been one of my favorite things, and I'm looking forward to it. We'll be there during the first two weeks of August.

Along with the projects, I will also be writing a book. (Now that I've published this statement, I'm holding myself to doing it.)

More details as they come.

Journalism 330 Assignment: Leadership

For this assignment, I was to interview a student leader about their thoughts on leadership. I chose Cortez Moss, director of Ole Miss' "The Big Event," a day dedicated to community service.

Journalism 330: Assignment 4 (Scene Setters)

For this assignment, I had to pick 2 historic locations in Oxford and talk about them. Here we are: Rowan Oak and the Confederate Cemetary.

Journalism 330: Assignment 3 (Or, Ruben Teaches Me How to Dance)

I told Ruben that I needed his help. First, I needed to do this assignment; learning more dance moves couldn't hurt, either. I promise, I'm really not that stiff as a dancer...

#TSUN and #MSU (Or: Why I Don't Unilaterally Hate All Mississippi State Fans)

At last nights disheartening loss to the Dogs in Starkville, there were at least 90 Rebels at The Hump, with about 60 of us concentrated exactly opposite from the student section. Of course we, being Rebels, were more than happy to raise merry hell in Starkvegas, screaming out the Hotty Toddy cheer every time it was quiet enough inside to hear us.

Understandably, every "Are You Ready" was immediately met with the roaring, hatred-laced disapproval of every State fan within earshot. We expected and welcomed this, because we know that every time we set foot in Starkpatch, there's a high chance of drawing the ire of every Bulldog in sight (except the mascot, who decided to grace us with his presence—no idea why).

We enjoy the rivalry, of course. It is clearly a time-honored tradition that Bulldogs and Rebels never get along. I shared a laugh with an elderly State fan who, following our Hotty Toddy cheers, would retort with "Flim Flam, Bim Bam, who the hell gives a damn!?" But it's all in the sport of competition.

This clearly drunk couple, however, made the experience slightly unbearable (but a whole lot more fun to watch).

We'll start in on the woman.

1: That haircut (as one of my female friends so eloquently explained to me) would only be requested by someone who is currently drunk. Ouch.

2: Classless. Sure, we trailed the entire game. Sure, we didn't play so well. It isn't necessary, however, to turn around after every play, call us bears (we're still Rebels, ma'am), and flip us off.

2 (continued): At one point, this woman screamed:

"I make more money than you!"

Ma'am, you are clearly approaching your forties, so it is expected that you generate an income that is substantially larger than a college student in their early 20s. And she seemed so proud of herself while hugging up on her man (seen to her right), whose hair could truthfully be violently detonated with the obscene amount of ozone-layer-destroying product he had slopped into it.

Speaking of this man:

1: He's too old to be irresponsibly hammered at a sporting event. Yes, this opinion comes from students at a school where, stereotypically, drinking heavily for sporting events is expected (read: required).

2: He was looking for a fight. His unstable feet struggled to turn him around every time he wanted to jeer at the "basketbears," in our faces. He wanted a fight with nearly 60 young, sprightly bodies. I have no idea why.

3: Seriously, in a blackout, light this man's hair. If you searched anywhere in Starkghanistan for hair product, you won't find any. Because of this man.

4: The high point of this man was him screaming:

"Go to hell, Ole Miss!"

Still in our faces, mind you. We "politely" reminded him that, "sir, this is Starkhole. We are, in fact, in hell. Unlike you, sir, we're just visitng."

Interestingly enough, after the game, we shared a laugh with the other State fans who apologized for the behavior of their drunken compatriots.

So, while still paying no mind to "The School Beneath Us," I can confidently say that we have a begrudged human respect for each other.

Reintegration.

Woke up this morning at 9:30. Probably the earliest I'll ever wake up before class. Did my usual morning ritual of cleaning myself up, furiously scouring emails, marking appointments, sending emails, responding to text messages, reading asinine facebook comments, and generally stalling.

Class at 11am. Geology 102. Because I need one more science class (without a lab), and this was it. That class is packed. Kids come in late, climbing over everyone because the room is filled to capacity. Me? I'm just contemplating today's blog post.

Queen (the professor) reminds us of the rumor that, last year during tornado season, professors would hold students hostage with an assignment that must be done. Can't leave until it's finished, and it cannot be made up. She goes on to remark how 1) it's sociopathic, 2) dangerous, and 3) completely against university policy—if that really did happen.

Side note: should that ever happen, leave and seek safety, then file a grievance against the professor.

I find out that the exams are structured such that of the four (including the final), only the top three will count. And one falls on the day right after my birthday. Any college student in this situation creates this predicament: "do I prepare to nurse the inevitable hangover resulting from turning 21? Or suck it up, wait a day, and ace every exam so I can choose not to take the final?"

I'm a future-minded guy in academic cases, so I'll be a responsible human, thank you.

Queen (the professor) let us out 20 minutes after class began. And that's the end of my school day.

Of course, the life of being busy is never that simple. Meetings upon meetings, making time to kill time, and not being a recluse is the order of the day.

Politics and Rebels

Here comes the season of student government elections. You've got the camp supporting one candidate, the camp supporting another, and yet another camp who adamantly declares that they are not voting for whatever reason.

I've never been an overly politically-minded person; I keep up with national (and sometimes international) politics, but I grew up knowing that I didn't want to be a politician. Being a journalist, ironically, is the closest thing to it.

Politicians have to be charismatic, demagogues, and able to espouse beliefs that they will unwaveringly stand upon. And they generally have my respect.

If you're someone who may have exposure to a large number of people, expect to be tapped for them. And be flattered that someone saw you as important enough to their campaign that they want your face attached to it.

Running a campaign, as I have come to learn, is an arduous process. The candidate and campaign team fight to appeal to the undecided voter, while not alienating their own supporters (guess what I learned in political science).

As I was elected to serve as the president for the building I live in, I got to see what happens when politics are applied to a college community.

In the fall, during the personality elections, the public forum for our building was a bit of a nightmare. Candidate promotions (a bit excessively pushed by supporters) were suddenly met with a tremendous outcry. The building itself became hostile overall. Unsurprisingly, my attempts at mediation were not well-received.

This is why I am not suited for politics.

The other residents, not realizing that their inherently neutrality in the context of campus election made them a prime audience for electioneers, believed themselves assailed in an election which they felt had no real gravity.

It wasn't the apathy that was the problem; it was the aggressive nature of said apathy. Obviously, not voting is as much a right as voting is, but campaign teams are formed to ask, not demand, for support.

Interestingly enough, despite such a belligerent stance against the election, the candidates who generated the most support in the building were the ones who literally went door-to-door, personally asking for support.

As for our online forum, our cabinet has dealt with ways to prevent such a violent reaction. All is basically well.

Of course, we still have the ones who will campaign for nobody at all. It's humorous to watch.

Faithful Rebels.

I live in Indiana. Many people I know here have no idea what Ole Miss is. All they see is our dismal football record and tend to just dismiss us. When I try to explain how and why we are so strangely passionate, all I get are confused looks, and then I'm redirected to our football record.

And then it hit me.

This confused sports fan *often* goes where the wins are—regardless of the school—just to be proud to stand behind something he probably doesn't even understand.

Ole Miss fans tend to encompass everything. Ask an Ole Miss fan their favorite thing about their beloved school, and you'll get answers ranging from "the grove" to "the people," "Oxford," and "we know how to have a good time." We don't just love a single sport; we know better than to hinge all of our happiness on one aspect of the university.

We love everything. Consider a typical game day. We're in the grove all day, regardless of when the game is. We enjoy each other's company. Yes, even if you're from LSU. Just don't overstay your welcome. Oh, what about Mississippi State, you ask? No, we don't talk about them.

We'll then file into the stadium, probably drunk, but nonetheless overjoyed to see our team take the field, hear the band play the well-known anthems of football season, watch the expertly crafted promo videos that put fire in our eyes, and jeer at the infinitely-less-classy-in-our-minds visiting fans—all in good fun, mind you, as we go back to our friendly selves after the 4th quarter (or whenever we have decided to leave the stadium).

Game day is all about pure enjoyment. Some leave the game early under the pretense of preparing for after-dark activities. We're ecstatic when we realize that even though it's Saturday, the bars have elected to remain open an hour later. Visitors decry our establishments closing so "early," but it's just right for us. We'll find other ways, without fail, to enjoy ourselves after 1:30am.

Our campus is beautiful. Don't try to tell us otherwise, or you'll get an earful about careful groundskeeping. See any cigarette butts on our campus? Never. How about you?

Our past, present, and future students are, overall, the nicest people you'll ever meet. Don't believe me? Come to Oxford and I'll put money on the fact that someone will make you feel right at home. Not even on game days, either, where you'll outright feel like family.

But I have to resign myself to realize the fact that it just doesn't make sense to some.

My favorite thing is just sharing experiences, like watching the clearly-jaded Oxford police department deal with college student antics. A girl had fallen on her face one night in a bar. The cops detained her outside. Between her face streaming blood, and her drunken sobbing about God-knows-what, the officers threatened to cart her off to jail just because she was just aggravating them. Oh, and the officers had to deal with other bar-goers trying to take pictures with their camera phones.

Non-sequitur aside, we love everything about our school. Good, bad, and ugly. If it looks like their's nothing to love about Ole Miss, you're not even looking at Ole Miss.