“This mass of third rate product from Sun editors and ‘Senior Writers’ is most discouraging. I shudder at what your junior writers produce and will not even read any of their writing for fear of nausea or worse,” one dedicated reader wrote during my tenure as associate editor of this paper.

For over a year, all letters to the editor arrived in my mailbox, greeting me each groggy morning after another late night at The Sun, with rants no less passionate than that one above. You see, my job required that I select the letters to the editor for publication.

If the clothes make the man, consider me a pinup for fits and starts. I spent two years in Dress Whites as a Midshipman at the US Naval Academy. While there, a lot of my time was devoted to eating meals at attention and convincing girls in town that they had “lost that loving feeling.” Despite the toll it would take on my bizarre social agenda, I decided to take off the uniform for the final time in 2006.

We were all in the bathroom when she said it. Each passive-aggressively vying for mirror time as we adjusted our matching neon green beanies and re-applied our Dr. Pepper Lipsmackers.

“Ha ha ha, Shannan … you are so funny! I think that’s why I’m so skinny! You make me laugh so much. Ha ha ha! Do you know laughing burns calories? That’s why I’m SO skinny!”

“What are you doing next year?”

This time of year, many seniors have come to dread that inevitable — and daunting — question.

People have all kinds of plans, and many of us legitimately do not know. Yet amidst all the uncertainty and confusion, nothing came close to what I was about to hear. Without even a twist of her comely, deceptively-innocent brow, she spoke with a voice full of the confidence of four years of liberal arts education and other worldly experience:

“I’d like to do something good for humanity … or make a lot of money.”

Or??

What’s been going on in this column? I have tried to make it a relatively ruthless criticism of everything existing, specifically in our culture. I have tried to get you thinking about how unsexy T-Pain is, how frats are undemocratic and why drinking underage is way better than drinking legally. Quite often, then, oppression, repression and resistance. So it is only fair, if I have ruthlessly critiqued things like my community’s sometimes blind support for Israeli policies, that the column now ruthlessly critique itself.

If I have gone so far as to deconstruct, then this column will now deconstruct itself.

Really, Marvin Gaye’s refrain “what’s going on,” might have been a better title.

Begin, of course, with hello. In your second or third year of high school — give or take a few based on your level of precociousness / misery — buy that giant book of America’s Best Colleges. Pretend to be looking as closely at average GPA and SAT score as at the campus, dining, party rating or male-female ratio. Somehow, both of these factors never seem to correlate. You will likely learn this all too late.

Try to ignore your parents hovering over your shoulder as you fill out applications on the computer they have just learned how to turn on. Be thankful technology is good for something. Fail to realize parental figures have the canny ability to make you feel their hovering presence from any distance, at any age.

Today marks the 100th day of President Barack Obama’s current term in office. News media hype aside, the President’s 100th day is an important milestone for the American public’s perception of the Executive Branch and has served as a definite marker for policymaking decisions since the times of FDR. The actions taken by the president within his first five months are indicative both of his priorities and of his leadership style. Most importantly, however, the 100th day unofficially cements the tone the president wishes to set throughout the remaining three-plus year in office.

Life is strange. Last week, I participated in one of the most powerful demonstrations I’ve been a part of at Cornell. I found myself crying outside of the Chi Alpha meeting as Chris Donohoe ’09 and Jarrod Schaeffer ’09 stood on the steps of McGraw Hall, addressing the crowd of 200 people after we had stood for 20 minutes in reflective silence. I was there with my mother at my side, acknowledging faces I recognized from all over campus — from first-year fraternity members to Hillel friends to radical gay rights activists — in the physical center of what has been my academic locus at Cornell. It seemed to be almost too suiting of an end to my time here on the Hill.

Feminism is not dead — it is part of a tradition. The tradition did not start in the 1960s, nor at the turn of the 20th century. It has been around for centuries, and it lives on. I know this because, quite simply, I can feel it. Some people don’t want to call it feminism, and maybe there’s a better name for it. But I haven’t found it yet. Certain works of art and literature have shaped my understanding of what feminism stands for, by bringing into focus what I always knew but somehow ignored. For my last column at Cornell, I’d like to share them with you, in neither chronological nor alphabetical order.

Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech

A highly entertaining story about appreciating the work and love that goes into being a good mom.

My Sun career comes down to this: 800 words and then I’m finished, done for good. What that means I don’t know, but it does leave some room to be creative. No matter what I've written, there will be no worrying about firing or suspension, no need to take angry calls and no requirement to respond to livid e-mails. There will be no looking back.

I’ll start by noting that the very fact that you’re seeing this column means I’ve moderated a bit. There are many things I would have loved to have written but, if I did, this would be in the trash and instead you’d be taking in some wisdom from the College Exchange. Thus, in the spirit of getting this printed, I’ve forsaken some of that wiggle room.