While I drink a nice cold bud light from my Rennies mug an urge to blog once again came over me so here I am typing away. Every time I drink from that mug, I'm reminded of the glory days, the best four years of my life, and specifically senior year living with eight of my closest friends. I know this September I won't be going back to Marist. This is now the third time I've faced this realization and I've become at peace with this.
I've heard the expression before that you can take the kid out of college, but you can never take the college out of the kid. I feel this holds even truer with my college experience. Walking across that stage a little over two years ago may have signified the end of college for me, but I take those experiences, memories and friendships I made everywhere I go in life. Through many ups and downs I learned so much about myself and the friends that I am blessed to have around me. As selfish as I might sound I feel that I could not have experienced a better 4 years anywhere else in the country and because of that I now share this unique bond with everyone else who has attended Marist.
I started a new job a little over month ago, where I am currently very happy. As a recent graduate the two questions that I always fielded were where did you work before and where did you go to college. Every time someone asks the later a smile crosses my face and I happily say Marist College. I am damn proud to have attended to that school. There might be colleges that carry greater weight in a conversation about academic or athletic prowess or even another metric used to compare. None of that talk ever phases me because choosing where to go to school might be the best decision I ever made.
Whenever someone asks where I went to college, I secretly hope that they too attended Marist College. I feel I share a special bond with every person that also attended. I want so badly to delve into that conversation comparing experiences. Two weeks ago I was out celebrating my birthday with many college friends and randomly ran into a group that had also graduated from Marist. There were some that I was friendly with and others that I did not hang out with at all, but it felt as if I had been reunited with long lost friends seeing and talking to them. I had kids I didn't hangout with offering to buy me shots, asking how I was doing, making sure I was doing well and it all felt normal, well better than that it felt great. The exchange was not awkward, contrived, or insincere, but rather normal for people who had shared that Marist experience.
Many people I went to college with can easily recognize me when I am out as that tall goofy kid, who can't dance, drank more than he should, and was always at McDonald's. In my four years never once was I picked on, made fun of, or talked about in a negative light to my face. Maybe there is a secret anti-Tim Keegan group somewhere out there on Facebook, but I'll assume that isn't true. In high school I wasn't the most popular guy and there were definitely those I believed didn't like me. I had my group of friends and there were definitely many great people who attended high school with me, but it wasn't the same. Early on in high school I was definitely picked on a bit in gym class as the scrawny runner and after school in the locker room changing next to the football team as I stood in stark contrast next to them. In many ways I was an easy target for an immature teenager seeking to flex his social muscles and make himself appear cool. I wouldn't say I was bullied in high school because I wasn't; there were just some moments, but I feel there were many people in those shoes that experienced those moments; I witnessed them. This was not the case at Marist. Some truly great guys played football at Marist and I was lucky to make friends with many of them. I was still a scrawny runner, but there was a respect level there for the work I put into my sport. Everyone seemed so much to care for one another and that is what I truly value about my college experience.
I didn't really plan on writing this blog post, it just kinda happened. I'm sorry if it never followed the ebbs and flows of a well written post or did not come to some gargantuan conclusion. And maybe this post carried too much emotion for some; blame it on the bud lights. Side note, I will never graduate from or be too good for cheap beer. Always remember your roots. But maybe, just maybe, this connected with some of you who feel this exact same way. I hope it did. Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it.
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