Cobwebs: A Midnight Musing

Those of you who have followed this blog for the longest time should be well aware that I update it at the same rate your middle school probably updates its website. But, I am a busy man, and teenagers have to fill their schedules with as much teenager-alia, so this blog ends up being much more seasonal than continuous. Just in another day in the life for the ambitious youth slowly trying to take over the world.

Fortunately, I'm not the only person with this problem, which is why I'm partnering with the not-as-adolescent Tori Hurst (whose musings can be found right here) to keep my writing muscles in shape. After my last post, I challenged her to write a new piece based on one word. After she completed her end of the bargain, she gave me one word in return for me to base my next post around, and I'll send her a new word after this post, and so on.

Today's post is brought to you by the word "spark." However, because it has been weeks since I received that challenge, I have since lost whatever my original vision for this post was. I'll just say that my spark of creativity has returned (hooray!) and my supreme writing powers have returned from that spark.

I've always been curious about the nature of relationships between us as humans. I imagine us as spiders spinning webs between branches, or perhaps as Spidermen pursuing Doctors Octopi in a weirdly graceful way. I'm one of those that believes that every encounter with other humans, no matter how brief, is insignificant. It's when you try and plot out all those encounters on a chart or a map that you really see the complex and typically incomprehensible nature of human interactions. But just as there is a mathematical yet free-from beauty in the web of the spider (as well as the extra benefits of Spiderman's webs that go without saying), there's something in that vast network that keeps on drawing me in, and it has been the driving force behind much of my writing.

The big fear I've always had is the unforgettable possibility of the individual strands of this web of people being severed. We've all felt it: the sudden concern that the friendships we have aren't built to last, and that this web we've formed will cave in as if a nine-year-old boy struck it with a twig. My reflex is always to tell myself "well, if I just say one or two more things, I'll get closure with this person." I like to think that every friendship I have is within my control and it's my duty to maintain or cease each one. Haven't we all been disappointed over our relationships turning out to be more temporary than we hoped? We certainly don't want to be disappointed again, and we just keep on trying to tie that loose end, to get that sacred closure we need.

I'm beginning to think that full closure for which we yearn is just a myth. And I'm not saying that to sound depressingly futile.

Psychologists have proven that humans really hate losing things, a phenomenon known as "loss aversion." Often, as a means of loss aversion, we tend to turn our goals away from taking a risk for more gain. It's why football teams punt on fourth down. We focus too often on keeping what we have, because heaven forbid a slight loss should plunge us into crisis. But come on, we do not control everything in our lives, and our relationships are no exception.

As long as we are loss-aversive by nature, closure will always be on our minds. We will try and keep up every single strand of our webs, and frankly, there is a lot of things we won't accomplish by doing so. Let's not forget that there is no love that can fully match the perfection of Agape, and there is no bond between people that is inherently inseparable. Not all loose ends will be tied, but there is still a lot to be accomplished with those loose ends. Hell, The Big Lebowski leaves countless plot threads unresolved at the end, but what we learn is that they don't need to be resolved and, well... the Dude abides. So remember that if you're trying to keep up some threads, and remember that even the most broken spiderweb can be reconstructed.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

On The Fourth Quarter

Ahhh, senior year. A time for closing loops and making memories. A time for clickbait trying to tell you how to do so. A wonderful time, truly, and it becomes even more wonderful as the 4th and final quarter of the school year commences. Splendid, I tell you.

This is also the time of year when the family's "My Baby Is Growing Up Lawd Jesus" anxiety is really beginning to flare up. I received my cap and gown for graduation yesterday, and was forced to endure a series of startled onomatopoeias from the rest of the room. Mother gasped and clicked away on her phone as she posted her reaction to Facebook. Sister, who is well-known in the family for her ability to express surprise with minimal words, reacted in the only way she knew. Those were the only people in the room at the time, but I'm certain I could hear the gasps of the rest of the immediate family from hundreds of miles away.

Now, I'm not here to start the sentimental countdown clock to graduation, so don't get sad quite yet. I believe I've established before on this blog that the present is the holiest of tenses anyhow. This is a call for you, my valued reader, to make use of that tense. After all, it just wouldn't be a Mornin' Hays post if I didn't decry a common notion as a load of wombat crap.

We often like to perceive the final moments of any period of time to be the most important, but let's be honest here: how much of that is spent doing something? The trailing team in a basketball game will tediously attempt to freeze the clock in the closing minutes, whether by timeout or by the more intimate strategy of barraging the opponent with fouls. We see incomplete art and writing hastily slapped together, eschewing quality in order to reach a deadline. And don't even get me started on that load of crap that they call "senioritis." What's that, you're getting me started anyway? So be it.

I'll skip trying to point out for the 2,015th time that the correct suffix is "-osis" and not "-itis," because grammar just isn't (insert millenial neologism here). I suppose I should also avoid trying to point out that slumps exist every year in school, and the belief that it's any different as a senior was probably just created by some marketing ploy. The real emphasis, I guess, should be on the fact that it shouldn't be used as some half-ass excuse to fold early or to give up personal goals.

You've conquered slumps, you can do it again.

For the sake of time, I want to wrap this puppy up, so I'll begin my series of fourth quarter reflections with a challenge: take time to pause and appreciate what you have now. Not because it will be gone, but simply because it's just a nice, underrated thing you might as well take advantage of. And keep yourself passionate about something despite the anxiety that the close brings. I've learned this year that no door truly can be locked shut for good, and I challenge you to keep all the doors in mind. That's what carries us through slumps and sprints to the finish: a burning passion and an understanding of the time we're given to keep the flame burning.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

The Myth of Stuffing the Resume (From The STEM Observer)

This week marked the debut of the STEM Observer, a gazette founded and run by those in the STEM magnet program at Dutch Fork High School. Mornin' Hays has his own column on the Observer, which is below. While more Mornin' Hays articles on the Observer will be shared here, you can check out the newspaper itself at this link, and if you like it and/or pity us, you can subscribe to it right here. This week's topic: needless resume-stuffing (which is a quite prevalent plague at Dutch Fork).

Last spring, I, like several of my peers, received a nomination for National Honors Society. I recall that it came in the form of a letter folded in thirds, completely identical to the dozens of others most of my classmates got, only unique in the fact that my full name (even going so far as to include my middle name) was neatly handwritten on one of the folds. It told me that I was part of a select group who qualified for such an honor, and that I definitely should pass by Room XYZ after school to get enrolled. Make no mistake, this was a noteworthy distinction I received from all of my hard work to get such outstanding grades (I presume my essays on self-defense against fresh fruit also helped my case). Nevertheless, I opted to ignore it, feeling a little deterred by the entry fee and the fact that I would miss induction due to opening night of Aida.

But they were not going to let me go that easily. After missing the first deadline, I received yet another letter during class that again urged me to come by. My teacher fully endorsed the notion, citing the fact that it would look good on a college resume and give me experience and (most important of all) the shiny thing I get to wear at graduation.  I decided to be fair and give NHS some consideration, but a thought eventually occurred to me: how much would this really help on my resume?

Now, granted, NHS is by no means a bad organization, and I can’t say what it’s like to actively participate in similar service clubs. I haven’t done Beta Club since sixth grade, and my Y-chromosome automatically disqualifies me from even thinking about being a Junior Civitan. Also, my grandmother insists that the NHS was a distinguished honor way back in her day, and to be fair, it probably was once one of the few organizations available to give such honor through nominations. And truly, if you really want or need to get service hours and gain experience, the NHS and its contemporaries are a pretty good route to take. Unfortunately, if you’re only looking to join it because you already are very accomplished and active and only want to stack your resume, you’re wasting your time.

The constant search for resume-fillers are all part of a widespread misconception that I think too many high school students are falling victim to. For lack of a more creative phrase, it is just plain redundant. Most people I know who join NHS are exactly what the letter says they are: they receive good--sometimes outstanding--grades, they’ve impressed teachers, and they likely have been active in numerous extracurriculars. Those are some pretty good qualities to show off to colleges in and of themselves (even though they’re probably already fit to be accepted). For that reason, there really is no extra good that joining a group for no reason other than to name ONE MORE CLUB that, apparently, will automatically guarantee your admission into any school of your choice. Think about what you are already doing and how busy you already are before you try and force another extracurricular in, and only join clubs if you think they are meaningful and if you can gain something from them.

While You Were Sleeping

There are twenty-three minutes left of July 22nd, 2014 as I begin to write this post. Never mind, twenty-two minutes. I sit in an overdecorated living room in the house we're staying in, with a single lamp fighting back the darkness. Long story short: it's nighttime, y'all. And pretty damn late at night, too.

I've always had a sort of undiagnosed syndrome of quirks and hitches that manage to distinguish me from others, but also provide a lot of difficulty. The fidgeting and pacing while others sit still. The construction of mountains of distress from emotional molehills. Inconsistent ability to communicate with others. And last but not least, the many nights spent in high function, which you can imagine is the reason I am straining myself putting this new post up so late at night.

Now, mind you, I understand that many other youth above and below my age also dapple in nocturnal life their own way, particularly when some sort of social activity is in the mix. Darkness truly does not exist in their nights, chased away by bright lights and loud conversation that break the silence of the evening. I could satirize the nature of teenage obsession with neon and strobe, as well as the remedial bass-driven noise that they feast upon, and how they are the bread and wine of their idiot's communion, and how fast the sense of judgment and brain cells deplete...

But I've never been a part of that crowd, and I ain't here tonight to try and make sense of that bullshit (believe me, I've tried before). I know that for me, the night is a time where every thought and every action crashes to my brain at once. My willpower demands that I rest, but my body continues its Asperger-esque fidgeting and my mind works at an extra-high rate to process the information overload it has obtained. Oftentimes, I feel like something I've deferred needs to be finished immediately, which is possibly just a miniature PTSD that comes only from heavy amounts of schoolwork. But right now, I cannot put to waste any thoughts that my brain processes at this late hour, so I am going to keep functioning and delve into my psyche for your viewing pleasure.

At this time, I normally think back to all the interactions I subjected my introverted ass to during the day. Were they good or bad? Did they deviate from normal patterns? What sort of dumb shit did I do this time?
This previous day seemed to be more minimal. For the second straight day, I slept through breakfast, and eventually became the only person left in the house as everyone else ventured out to do fun, stereotypical beach crap. I value those moments of isolation, where I don't have to waste any sort of energy on others and can find quiet to reflect, which is often why try to get moments like these while everyone else sleeps at night. During this time, an old friend whom I hadn't seen in years messaged me, and we spent a lot of time trying to catch up. It brought the past individual I was back to me in a swift wave, and I saw how different I have become. Of course, the rest of the crowd returned, so I was forced to be social once again [groans], and I spent a lot of time dealing with arbitrary issues in my head that I seem to have with people in general. Mission complete.

I think about Jesus. Kind of in the cheesy Christian way that you'll see most people claiming to embody. How He has carried me through these small issues I face, and how far He could take me into the future. I don't always make a clear chain of reasoning out of these individual thoughts, but at least I did something. The question that keeps recurring in my head whenever I bring those thoughts to the blog is "why do I kinda want to throw up every time other people try and talk about Jesus in the same corny way?" Appreciating other people's faith remains a struggle for me, even when I find others who are just as curmudgeonly as myself while retaining the same enthusiasm I am capable of expressing. Weird, I know, but I'll answer it some other time.

I think about the work I still have to do. Particularly the schoolwork. In other words, OH SHIT I'VE STILL GOT TO READ TWO BOOKS AND FINISH THAT PACKET ON THE CONSTITUTION OH LAWDHAVEMERCY.

Lastly, I think about the future. More specifically, I comically alternate between excitement and dread about what lies ahead. Holy hell, finishing high school/college/starting a new life! In times where I am exhausted by the present and feel that I am not fully in place, I don't really care about what lies ahead, just get me over, dear Lord. Maybe a greater degree of freedom sounds good to me. Maybe I crave isolation. No, scratch that, I definitely crave isolation. But I also fear the loose ends that I haven't tied up, whether it be dreams I want to accomplish and relationships with others that I feel are waning. This is where I start to get kinda adolescent-bitchy. This is where I try to make plans to execute, but there's no way in Hell that they could follow through. Lest we forget the occasional fear of getting a terminal illness or dream-ending injury that could screw things up for me (things which I feel very susceptible to given the poor diet and fitness doctrine I keep my body on).

But even as this shit keeps coming at me, the only thing I can do is keep going. Good Lord, I can't sit down, I can't rest, 'cuz I know I'm going somewhere. Freddie Mercury said it best: "Don't stop me now, cuz I'm having a good time." There's some spirit in me that makes me the crazy damn soul I am, and I gotta let it keep me moving. I've come to believe that what makes a human most fit for heaven is the resilience and maturity he or she obtains through trial and tribulation. Even though my brain is turned up to eleven and I'm trying to visualize the time around me, the only thing that can truly make those visions true are my eyes and ears.

Okay, I'm probably going to wake up this morning very late again, and I'm probably going to be unwilling to have breakfast again or do anything, so I should probably crash. It'll probably be at a more reasonable hour that you are reading this, so... hopefully I've said something noteworthy. Maybe I'll do something more notable on another post.

Extremely-gorram-early-in-the-Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Live From St. George!

Oh, dear, I'm far too exhausted for my own good. Pooped. Tired. Running on empty. Unpredictably cantankerous. Truly, this is a heavenly fatigue. If only there was a medium which I could express this exhaustion in front of a large crowd.

That's right! There is!

So, anyway, I'm pretty damn worn out from these past two months. Since school let out, I've traveled through or to 10 different US states and the District of Columbia, rode in countless different means of public transportation, and done waaaaaay too much walking in the heat. And that doesn't even begin to describe what I did when I wasn't moving (but don't worry, I'll get to that later). Oh, and there's the fact that I'm less than a month from beginning my final year of high school. But I'm finally still and calm, here and now.

As I write this, I am sitting on a porch overlooking Apalachicola Bay at night. The buildings on the other side of the water are illuminated, the air is crisp, and a chorus of crickets trying to get laid is chirping. This is a level of tranquility which is hard to obtain living in suburbo-rural South Carolina, and an atmosphere that allows me to think clearly. At least when I'm not thinking about the fact all these crickets out here are trying to get other crickets into their pants. Their... cricket-y... pants.

Anyway, moving on from the insect porn, I've got a lot to think about. First, we took Manhattan (I've always wanted to say that) looking for Jesus. Then I went to camp up at Clemson to get my brain flowing and make some music (which you can listen to at this link). Then I rode the train up to the City of Brotherly Love for mission and fellowship with 1000+ Episcopalians at EYE '14. That was all fine and dandy, but after being active for so long, it's time to decompress. I've always used this blog to get my thoughts free and flowing, and the environment around me is a great setting to forget the distractions that this world presents. (Author's note: before starting the previous sentence, I spent three minutes on an unsuccessful mission to capture a frog that ventured onto the porch).

Now, I've already mentioned looking for Jesus in New York, but, let's face it, spirituality has always been a pursuit of mine ever since I stopped complaining about my momma haulin' my ass to church every Sunday. This remains a pursuit here on this quaint little island off the Florida Panhandle. The most frequent sightings of the Lord's presence seem to be in whatever place is quiet; this is definitely a justified account, as I wouldn't be writing this if I didn't hear His voice out by these waters. High elevations, whether in the mountains or on the Empire State Building observation deck, also can get the spirit moving, particularly considering the idea of being a few literal feet closer to heaven. I could talk about those two locations in great extent, but so could a lot of other people. Therefore, I'll put the mountains and silence on the backburner and talk in brief about my new spiritual companion.

Flat Jesus.

He's a little laminated version of our savior that I got at EYE and now carry around (especially for downright glorious photo-ops like the one above). I first thought of It as a silly little knick-knack to carry around, but I've begun to think that he captures a bit of ministry that few ever think of. It manages to be completely irreverent as well as completely a living icon of the Lord. Now, to be clear, I mostly carry it around for irreverent use (see above photo), but I've found that a meager bit of irreverence is actually praise in disguise. Think about it: to have been present with humanity as an individual, Jesus humbled himself to a very far extent. We talk a lot about how fully divine He is, but the holy paradox exists in the fact that He was fully human as well. So, even while being present as a heavenly force and spirit, He also was just an average dude sneaking into our everyday lives.

Wait, say that last part again?

Sneaking into our every day lives.

Yeah, coming full circle now! Remember what I was saying about pursuing spirituality every day? Well, that's kinda what He did down on Earth, being a living vessel of God. So, He's just as much present in the crass humor involving Him as the fervent (and sometimes a little obnoxious) praise of Him. So maybe taking a picture of His goofy caricature at some tourist trap is a way that He sneaks into our lives when we least expect it. Oh, that little jokester.

In light of this, I suggest that everyone else chasing the Spirit need not overthink it. Even finding time to acknowledge Him with a hammy cutout is finding time to acknowledge Him. I suggest that looking at Christ with irreverent humor, while not always fit to use in excess, should also be considered a form of intentional worship and acknowledgement of the Lord. Hey, if you can focus on Him after implying cricket sex, there's plenty of time and ways to focus on the Spirit.

So, let's not strain ourselves searching for spirituality. To my brothers of other religions, I say that I believe in a universal over-soul that unites all who believe in some sort of spiritual being, and I think that anyone can feel this force. Even atheists whose beliefs lie in science (which I of course have a strong obsession with, as well) cannot deny the existence of a universal force that seems to power the function of all the universe's processes. We can each find ways to live a life in spirit, and we can be one in our individual lives.

That's just tonight's thoughts on the Spirit. There should be more to come on it in the near future, with utmost crass humor and irreverence. Here's to the heavenly rest yet to come, for me and all of us.

Blessed are the cheesemakers.

Mornin' Hays, signing off.

Zukunft? Unf!

Folks, I have a strange hobby I picked up a few weeks ago. I've been burning hours upon hours in my bedroom with an app on my phone called Duolingo, a foreign language instructor. I've been teaching myself German, which I guess is just part of my master plan to leave college and go live in the Rhineland, but everyone I know seems a little bit disturbed by the strange words coming out of my phone. I just can't be the normal guy.

Now, some of these phrases on Duolingo that I translate are rather peculiar or out of the blue. I've seen phrases in German with meanings such as "the vegetarian does not like me" or "I am playing with both the cups," which I guess has limited context... somewhere. One phrase I came across this morning however is especially prophetic to me.

"Wir haben eine Zukunft!"

Or, we have a future. Like yesterday's post, this really fits the current events of most of my peers, especially this year's graduating class. Holy shit, the past is gone, we have a future! There's so much we can do! No ceiling! There's... still shit to worry about.

Now, I have no right to say that I can be the voice of all the doubts that this year's graduates have, and I'm not going to pretend. But I've spoken about the future before, and I think I can voice general adolescent struggles. And I'm pretty damn certain that I can speak for myself.

We fear the future. It's full of problems we don't foresee and (GASP!) change! It's hard to break our routines we have now, and we aren't all prepared to make new ones in the future. These are all universal fears of the future, and they always seem to be a counterpart to a good thing we imagine in the future. Damn parasites.


Yeah, I could keep moaning about all this. But, frankly, I've already bitched enough about how much my future isn't going to be all rainbows and glitterfarts.

I'm convinced now that the real reason we panic so damn much about the future is that we still have unfinished business in the present before we can move on. Hard to believe, I know, since the present seems to be the popular kid that everyone likes among all the other verb tenses (I mean, he's just too perfect sometimes).  But isn't there something you feel like you can't move past?

(Rhetorical question time)

Have you not gotten opportunities to pursue your passions or do new things that stand out from the rest? Got something about yourself that you rather wish you could alter but can't commit yourself to it? Have friendships gone cold? Oh, and don't get me started on separation anxiety?

(End rhetorical question time)

Those are all present issues. And if something don't get finished in the present, it's an easy reflex to worry it ain't gonna get done in the future. It's a fear that hits us bluntly in large masses when we least expect it. It's something that fogs our minds too much to fathom solutions. Really, it just sucks major balls.

After witnessing graduation yesterday, my mind was clear for a while, but I got hit by these worries pretty hard when I was sitting alone in my castle of solidarity (a nonsensical phrase that means "my bedroom" in this context). So many people I ain't gonna be seeing as much in the future, regretting all the things I didn't do, worries about all the buried relationships I have, pressure about future tasks, all that jazz, I'll save you the complaining. I've always been apprehensive about my relationships with other human beings, and I think that won't change.

So, I guess I got to offer some solution. I find that it's impossible to prevent pangs of paranoia, but the best thing you can do is find a way to air your grievances and let them slide by a bit, but I'm no counselor. I do believe, however, that it is inherently stupid to regret something you didn't do. It's like assuming that you're driving your waiter into poverty after you realize that you forgot to leave a tip.

The best thing to do is trust that shit's gonna work out and just let time carry you on. Don't pressure yourself to take action unless you have a clear head and feel like you can advance yourself. And believe me, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, or whatever universal being is present to you, can make shit work out.

In the meantime, take a few words from that other Holy Trinity that is Geddy, Alex, and Neil, about flying through life.

In the words of the obscure phrases on Duolingo:

Auf eure Zukunft!

Morgen Hays, signing off.

The Fault in Our Metaphors

Now, I like to be relevant in my writing, of course, but I also try to avoid cliche topics like the plague. But, I seldom have a choice, so I often end up having to bring up what everyone else won't shut up about. Blogging is hard, waaa waaa waaa, you get the idea. Moving on.

So, it's the end of the school year for most of us adolescents. And, that means summertime and ALL THE FUN FINALLY. Today, particularly, is a significant day at my school because the Class of 2014 turned their tassels on their weird rectangular hats and finally got to kiss school goodbye and... you get the idea. I had the GPA privilege of serving as a Junior Marshal at this graduation, and I could talk all day about the pride I have for this Class of 2014, which includes many good friends of mine.

But first, I feel that it is important to take a quick look back at the past year that transpired, as every other student is doing right now. It's quite a bit to take in, and I, myself, can hardly absorb all the events that transpired since August of 2013. For most people, a lot of the struggles become visible, but the high moments (mountaintop experiences, if you'll recall from a previous post) are just as prominent. Ups and downs, that's really the summary of it all, almost like a...


Like a...


Sine function, of course.


Oh, I'm sorry, I forget that trying to remind people of schoolwork is a crime punishable by social exile. So, a rather preferred item of comparison is the roller coaster. I mean, that goes up and down, changes speeds a lot and can appear unstable. Hell, even in the ubiquitous teen romance story The Fault in Our Stars, male protagonist declares that despite cancer partially Lieutenant Dan-ing him, he is "on a roller coaster, that only goes up, my friend."

Unfortunately, what our favorite one-legged hunk fails to realize is that roller coasters that only go up aren't really that great. They're called "escalators," and you can find them in most shopping malls, although they aren't always that entertaining.

Truly, the overall idea of analogizing life with a roller coaster is a flawed concept. I concede that it does make sense in a very... abbreviated sense. Phases of life and roller coasters both have literal high and low points, and if done right, the end results are pretty satisfying. However, I (and most others, hopefully) have never personally experienced depression as a result of being at the bottom of a drop of a roller coaster. Nor have I thankfully gone up the next hill and expected to be at the apex for a long time, only to drop again.

Am I petty and over-analytic? Maybe. Yes, probably. But as a roller coaster enthusiast, I might take some offense at such flippant regards towards those hailed vehicles of thrill. Nevertheless, I believe that portraying time as a strict up-and-down experience is an archaic trope, and I believe that an alternative should be pursued. One that represents an actually random sequence of struggle and triumph.

I, for one, think that this past year has been like a constant search for wi-fi. Let's face it, we all are personally affected by connectivity issues. Haven't you had days ruined by discovering that you couldn't connect to the internet in your local coffee shop? (Hopefully not). Isn't it always a reflex for you to begin scoping out wi-fi when you settle in a new location?

Maybe this analogy is a bit of a stretch, but I believe it is something that teens do relate to. We have times when we feel connected and in the zone, and there are times when we just can't seem to get back in the hotspot. Sometimes it's best to disconnect, to stop forcing the issue, and to recuperate. Sometimes, we'll have others to bail us out in times of difficulty (in this metaphor, that's 4G or 3G), but we don't always accept that help in fear that it will bring us more trouble and entanglement (again: this is a very rough metaphor). But, in the end, it works out well, and you reap the benefits of your joyful connectivity through the tweets of life and the YouTube videos of triumph! Huzzah!

So, let's think about our past (and present and future) as not a strict up-and-down progression, but as an ongoing effort that takes in a variety of factors. When you're making your Instagram pic collage with all your besties, or your Instagram photo in which you feign indifference in the photo but get serious in the caption, thank your friends and family (who you should already be thanking because they took so many damn photos with you) for supporting you not through your "roller coaster" year, but your "dammit-the-wi-fi-is-not-working-oh-never-mind-it-is-back-again-now-it's-gone-shit-oh-well" year. (Feel free to shorten that title).

But really, who needs the past. The future is long and bright, and there's room for all of you in it. So, I give my best regards to the Class of 2014, and I wish the best for all of my colleagues who walk with me. Truly, I have a lot of sentimental thoughts, but I lack the words.

So long may you run.
Mornin' Hays, signing off.