I stand before you today – well my goofy picture stands before you today – to announce my retirement as a Collegian columnist. Everyone wants to retire on top. Jay-Z did it. Michael Jordan did it twice. The Fraggles did it. And now, DMX is doing it (and in his honor, I plan on treating this column like a DMX radio edit, meaning every potential swear will be replaced by a WHAT, an UH, or any sound made by a dog). So I figured I should weigh my options too.

I mean, how could my life get any better right now? I’ve got almost $300 in my bank account (30-packs instead of bars). I’m graduating into the wonderful world of unemployment (OK, 12-packs instead of bars). I’m moving home for the summer (living behind bars). And I have two – yes, two – coupons in my glove compartment for a free Happy Ending Sundae with the purchase of any Friendly’s Supermelt. What else could I need?

Actually, I could use a little less complaining from everyone as this year draws to a close (and this isn’t a complaint, it’s a critique). I understand that the amount of work given to us college students in the last few weeks is the equivalent of giving Frankie from “Real World: San Diego” a set of steak knives as a wedding gift. It’s just asking us to freak out. But the papers and finals are no excuse to lose your damn minds and forget about AOL Instant Messenger etiquette.

I’m sure you’ve all seen it happening in our sheltered little AIM world. Away messages like “Sooo much work to do! (annoying slanted mouth face)” litter the Internet like upside-down ice cream cones in our dining hall stairwells. But guess what? You’re not alone. We all have (WHAT) to do, so shut the (RUFF) up.

This is college. The real world needs a way to differentiate the good-looking, qualified people from the ugly, unqualified people. And even though the hippies at Hampshire College haven’t figured that out yet (not that it matters, they fall in the ugly, unqualified group anyway), this is why we need grades. To get grades, we need to take tests. And, for most people, to take tests, we need to study.

Everyone who isn’t complaining about work is turning their profile into a nostalgic Vitamin-C-Graduation-Song yearbook quote. For anyone who hasn’t figured this out yet, yearbooks do not exist to help us remember. They exist to help us remember what we’d love to forget: braces, bangs, cliques, tapered jeans, lunch ladies with bad teeth…and cheesy yearbook quotes. We didn’t know any better back then, and that’s what made these things OK. But as we go on … we remember … all the times we … had together … and as our lives change … we should realize that we were losers back then and know not to repeat these mistakes. So calm down with the quotes, the thank you’s, and the BFF’s (Best friends forever).

I think Snoop Dogg said it best: “It’s cool to grow old.” Despite what recent alumni may have told you, growing up isn’t that bad. Next year, our precious current freshmen won’t be able to say, “I went to a frat last night,” without being hassled by their friends, while most current sophomores will be able to enter Liquors 44 without being hassled by the cops. Current juniors, on the other hand, will learn the art of sneaking a keg into Puffton Village, while coming to the realization that friendship is actually based on walking distance, as dorm hallway friendships cease to exist when the hallway ceases to exist. But no matter what, you kids will never again experience a Hobart Hoedown as it was meant to be.

Seniors are going through something a bit different. We’re realizing that college isn’t necessarily about reading books or writing papers or going out, it’s about the people we meet along the way (the soundtrack to this portion of Matt’s column is brought to you by Sarah McLachlan).

Regardless of where we end up four months from now, there exists this intangible, unmistakable feeling among us that from now on, ridiculously overcrowded bars won’t be quite as stomach-able, greasy calzones won’t be quite as edible, and “The OC” won’t be quite as watchable.

We don’t wanna grow up. We’re UMass kids. There’s a million girls and boys at UMass that we can play with. This environment may have been difficult to enter, but it’s going to be absolute hell to leave, and like it or not, we are big kids now. You thought finals sucked. Well, now it’s time to worry. We have to worry about how many years must pass before we’re not cool anymore. We have to worry about when we must stop wearing American Eagle and start wearing Eddie Bauer, as well as stop wearing undershirts and start letting our gross chest hair creep above the top button. We have to worry if it’s OK that one day we will ask our granddaughter to, “Please hand me my Dr. Dre CD, honey.” And we have to worry about turning our tassels to the side, turning our brims to the front, and turning our backs on four amazing years in Amherst.

So, say your goodbyes as if your diploma prepared you for them. Say goodbye to your friends. The ones who are worth it will stick around anyway. Say goodbye to the one that got away. Maybe you’ve met her already, or maybe you’re years away from the moment you wish you hadn’t met her at all. Say good riddance to enemies, RA’s, and skateboarders on campus who never land a damn trick. Some people will leave that you wish to God wouldn’t, and some that you wish had peaced out years ago will stick around to bother you until the day you die. That’s just how it works.

As all great things come to an end, so must this column, and with it my writing career. Or better yet, (GRRR) it. See you next fall.

Matt Brochu is a Collegian columnist.