In final column of junior year, I wrote that it might be my last. I didn’t actually want to stop writing the column. I just wanted people to e-mail me saying, “Please keep writing, I love your columns!” Or, “Oh no, don’t stop. Everyone loves you.” But I didn’t get a single e-mail or have anyone even acknowledge my empty threat that was made purely as a cry for attention.

Even though this is actually going to be my second to last column, I figure I better get the crazy train rolling.

REGRETS

First Regret: I always wanted to write a column detailing Brad Pitt’s effect on me. I mentioned it in one of my previous columns, but I have not done him justice. I am not being sarcastic when I say that I have literally spent hours trying to put into words just what it is about Brad that makes him so awesome. These are some of my thoughts on Brad that I have written throughout the years:

• In my history class senior year of high school, we were watching Legends of the Fall. My teacher had to step out of the classroom, and as she was leaving, she said, “Drew, do not fast forward to the sex scene.” Naturally, I did. Maybe it was his golden skin glowing in the majestic mountains of Montana. That thought that you could just run away with him. Live a simple life out in the open. Just you and Brad.

When my teacher came back, she decided it was the last straw, so for the rest of the school year, instead of learning world history, I met weekly with the school priest to write a research paper on the treatment of women in various cultures.

• Here’s a question: Would you rather be Brad Pitt, the sexiest man alive where you can have any girl you want, or be a girl and have Brad Pitt as your husband?

• Kevin Spacey’s brutal acts did not faze me at all in Se7en. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I will never have the effect on girls that Brad has.

• The one thing I can’t let anyone find out: I once killed a drifter.

That last sentence I actually found written in these notes that I have about Brad Pitt, and I have no idea how it got there.

Second Regret: I always wanted to write a column where all I do is list every award that I have won in my life. People would laugh, but what they wouldn’t know is that it would really be an attempt to indirectly impress them. I would act sarcastic about all of it, but deep down I would want everyone to know all that I have accomplished. “Yeah, yeah, that is funny, I’m an Eagle Scout.”

Third Regret: I never was able to accomplish my dream of joining the popular crowd and forgetting who my true friends are. Then, when my old loser but loyal friend tried to get me to come back, I could say, “For the first time in my life, I feel accepted. Like I am someone. You wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Fourth Regret: I will never be as good as Wes Anderson.

Fifth Regret: This regret I can only explain in a metaphor. I want to swim in this lake. But I can’t even lift my foot just to touch the water. It’s like I’ve become addicted to wanting to swim in the lake and not being able to. Maybe I have come to like the fact that I can’t go swimming so that I can lament about it. Or, maybe I hate myself for not being able to swim. But in either case, I’m stuck on the shore. Think about that.

Sixth Regret: My dad used to hold money up in the air and tried to make me grab it, but I never could. He would just laugh as I jumped up and down continuously. He said he was trying to teach me a lesson, but I never understood what that lesson was.

Seventh Regret: I still haven’t learned that if you like a girl and ask her friend to secretly find out if she likes you, she will actually go up to her friend and say, “Hey, Andrew likes you. He told me.” She won’t be “cool about it” like you ask her to. Doing this also ruins your chances with the girl because she sees how passive you are. But I’m going to keep doing it because I’m a wuss.

But my biggest regret about my column is that no one really got the point of it.

FUTURE PLANS

Don’t you worry about ol’ Andrew. I plan on scouring the world and embarking on crazy adventures with Captain Jack … Seibald that is. I call him Cap’n Jack because he is pretty much a carbon copy of Johnny Depp’s Captain Jack Sparrow. Both are mythical characters that no one really knows if they exist or not. Both were born in the Caribbean. Both have similar jobs — Jack Sparrow is a notorious pirate, while Jack Seibald is the CEO of Concept Capital, a company that helps investment managers with their portfolios.

Cap’n Jack has promised me that if I show up on his doorstep broke from a chronic drug habit, he will give me a job. I don’t know if this deal is based on me having the drug habit or not, but I don’t leave anything to chance, so I will make sure to already have a debilitating drug problem when I show up.

So, my next column will be my last. You can consider this halftime. Make sure the team mom brings orange slices.

Andrew Webb is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. He can be contacted at awebb@cornellsun.com. Confessions of a Mental Patient appears alternate Mondays.