Peace out, Penn State.

Adios to parka-piercing, pre-sunrise walks from Pinchot Hall to Hammond Building just to hear some Spanish graduate student tweak my tildes. "No tengo talento en otro languageos," I managed to mutter as a feeble freshman.

Goodbye to yearlong leases from greedy, grimy apartment buildings seeking to suck every possible peso from my (correction: my parent's) wallet. And, $350 a month to share a room with a sweaty, no-shower-takin', no-macaroni-and-cheese-makin' roommate? Ummm, no, I think I'll pass on that one.

So long to central Pennsylvania too. Being isolated between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh is serious nightmare material, especially if you're one of the many cows and two-teefed' farmers in-between the two cities. You'd think with all this beef I could get a quality cheesesteak. But no, we ain't in Philly anymore.

Luckily enough, however, I won't be in State College any longer either. My G-day is here, and even though I've had several scintillating memories at Penn State, it couldn't have come any sooner.

Call me critical, call me a complainer, whatever. I didn't come here that way. Four years ago, before I was herded into East Halls like some kind of Nittany lion, I had just as much optimism as a man in a women's prison with a fistful of pardons. Yeah, I was psyched.

Fresh faces, new places, and a chance to wake up past noon whenever I wanted, I thought. No more tedious high school assignments, either. And alas, I could pick my own classes! "Best years of your life, son," my dad would say.

But like 2-on-2 midget basketball, the allure quickly wore off. Maybe it was the chicken nugget extravaganza in Findlay Commons or the endless array of snow and sleet and rain and fog and wind. Either way, so-called Happy Valley proved to be just like any other place — only what you make of it.

So with a brewing sense of discontent, I joined this publication as quickly as possible. Over the next three-and-a-half years, I covered everything except women's mudwrestling and men's jai alai. Okay . . . I lied, but I was the beat writer for men's swimming, diving, tennis, ice hockey and soccer. And then, when I got sick of writing about other people's successes and failures, I took up writing columns.

After all, I always wrote straightforward news. Whether it was for The Press of Atlantic City, the Philadelphia Daily News, the Associated Press or CNN, facts and quotes were my thing. Want proof? Whack, but true story: Around 5 or 6, I made loose-leaf-sized newspapers for my Dad to sell at work. He came home with a fistful of dollars, and even though I suspected he bought them all, I crayoned on.

The lesson here? Do only want you want. Life is too short to mess around, so make changes, swift and sincere, whenever needed. And, recklessly chase your dreams because no one else will catch them for you. After all, isn't the name of this crazy game to be happy? Bobby McFerrin was a genius.

Don't worry, be patient. I'm almost done; just a few people I'd like to mention.

Above everyone under the sun, I'd like to thank my Mom for reading to me as a kid, and my Dad for buying me a Tandy before a Huffy. Without your incessant back-patting and blind support, who knows where I'd be, or who I'd be for that matter. I learned determination, honesty, and the beauty of hard work via you two — what great parents. Much love to my sister AJ, too, for letting me beat her in a race.

Big ups to everyone or everything with a pulse in Philadelphia, including (but not limited to) Attai, Fish, Ep, Rick, Wawa, Bustleton Bengals, Aunt Sandy, Tooch, G3, Shana Bly, Steve's Steaks, J-Vasquez, and Barney. Thanks to Dick too for giving me a job.

Finally, thank you, Kara for being "the yin to my yang." Our story has had so many subplots and maybe one too many characters, but it's been amazing, hasn't it? Well, it'll only get better. I love you, and keep making art. If things go wrong, at least we can be poor together.

To everyone else I know, I didn't forget you, there just wasn't enough space.

So, peace out Penn State. It's time for me to live my life the way I want to. Hopefully, you'll soon follow . . .