I've made Erin Andrews smile. I've watched Keith Jackson urinate.

I've been called the n-word by a black man and a coward by anonymous internet posters.

I interviewed President Hennessey, and helped break the news of President Bush's visit. I broke the story of a drunk Tree losing her position, and of Azia Kim losing hers too.

I've asked ill-received questions to Lloyd Carr (who gave me a five-second stare and a one-sentence answer) and Bobby Knight (who did the same, before storming out of a press conference).

I've sat at my laptop until 3 a.m., editing at $6.25 an hour. I've sat courtside at what would be $500 seats. I've sat in a cab with an alcoholic, who stiffed me on a $20 fare.

I've walked in on friends making out in the Daily office. I've had the favor returned by one of the cutest girls in my grade at 5 a.m. (And really, who decides to pick up their $40 paycheck at 5 a.m.?)

I wrote about others for four years. I might just have found myself.

A head coach cursed me out behind my back. A drunk basketball player cursed me out to my face. ResEd higher-ups cursed me out in both locations.

I've been interviewed twice on national TV. I've kept my mouth shut<\p>--<\p>and a promise<\p>--<\p>on a story that might have been number three.

I've been screamed at by fellow staff members, soundly defeated in an Editor-in-Chief election. I couldn't get a local internship to save my life, only for Fortune magazine to offer me one in New York City.

I've had professors tear apart my writing in their classes. I've had professionals across the country email me congratulations on articles well-done.

I've bonded with a girlfriend on five-hour trips to games. I've nearly lost my RA job and my housing. I've found a name for my first born child. (Taj Novinson. Mr. Finger gave me his blessing.)

I've learnt to take my lumps, learnt to handle success, learnt to work hard, learnt to smile.

I've lived. And I wouldn't change a thing.