Focus on where you're going

Why are you so dressed up? I thought that an odd question when it was first posed to me one evening in September of 2002. I was wearing slacks and a blue collared shirt, nothing out of the ordinary. Apparently, and I had not quite come to this conclusion yet, it was out of the ordinary for the average college student.

For me, it was par for the course. It was then. It is today.

That night was the first night I had volunteered to work on the design desk at The Daily Pennsylvanian. Through all those days and, well, mostly nights, I have held onto that answer -- par for the course. You'll notice it stripped across the top of this column I've had the pleasure of filling for the past year and a half. It's nothing more than a silly cliche, but from it I have come to realize the message with which I would like to leave you. And I'm sorry to those of you who thought I was writing about golf.

I came to Penn from a place called Montana. You may have heard of it, or maybe not. Trust me, it's a state. There are in fact people, not just cows, and, if you are lucky, you can make it out alive.

But knowing that little bit of information about me would give a mostly false impression, for I don't believe I embody any of the characteristics of the typical person from Montana. Yet geography and other curious traits have become some sort of be-all, end-all metric for people, and that is absolutely absurd.

It has become almost a handicap for some people, just as, well, actual handicaps are for handicapped people.

The problem here is that people get caught up in traits that are uncontrollable. They define themselves and seek to define others by their background. What good is that?

To use my last-ever sports analogy on this page, someone's background is like a baseball player's batting average: It only tells you where you have been and gives no indication of where you are going.

Instead of obsessing over that which we cannot control, attention is better placed on tangible things we can control. I may not have come from the most respectable place in the world when it comes to arguing city politics, but I have done all that I can to learn and to gain your respect.

I was not about to become a prisoner of an image I did not create. Rather, I set out to create the image I wanted and the image I could be proud of. Everyone should do the same.

All around us there are those who have not figured that out. Penn itself is a victim of its snobby and elitist image, something it created and is trying desperately to change. The Ivy League thinks it's holier than thou and is doing essentially nothing to change. Scores of students at these schools see their enrollment as a license to treat others poorly and take advantage of those less fortunate. That's too bad.

Never forget where you came from. But relying on what got you here will not help you get anywhere in the future. No one but yourself can control your success or failure. You might have been a high-school valedictorian, but that does not entitle you to success at Penn. You might graduate from this university, but that does not make you better than anyone else -- except for maybe those people at Princeton.

You must think of your own personal attributes as tools to achieve your goals rather than as a golden ticket to whatever you want. Do not get too caught up in your own importance to appreciate what others do for you.

Respect and understand that you -- and only you -- control your destiny and the way you project yourself. I chose the blue shirt and slacks because that's who I am. It's not about where I came from, but a reflection of the respect I have for where I am and where I want to go.

That's the philosophy I have had behind this column. I have not been, and still am not, ready to take no for an answer or to accept things the way they are because "that's the way it's always been."

When you reach the end of your run, whatever that may be, you should be able to look back with pride at what you have accomplished. Have no regrets in opportunities missed or regrets of what you have done. As I prepare to ride off into the sunset, I am reminded of something the late President Ronald Reagan said as he left the Oval Office for the last time: "My friends, we did it. We weren't just marking time. We made a difference."

I hope that when all of you move on in life, you are able to say that, and that it will be true.

That's it for me. You've been great.

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