Column: Hot Off The Press

04/29/09 - When I was a freshman in high school, I'd never gotten below a B+ in any subject and I was convinced I was within reach of the famous valedictorian speech. I know that sounds pretentious, but to be honest, I cared more about the chance to make a speech than getting good grades, dreaming about what an honor it would be to be able to say something important.Then 16-year-old Brenna met high school chemistry and the dream was lost, along with the interest in being Dr. McCabe (though I still feel that I'm living my life like an episode of "Scrubs" - Cigar style.) Sorry mom (Marion) and dad (Francis P.) - I know you're still cringing from all that money you spent to send me to "biology camp" in summer of '02. I promise I'll make up for it someday.

Anyway, when I reached the final days of high school and graduation, I was mostly disappointed for two reasons: 1) I was not valedictorian, therefore I could not make that wild speech which would, of course, make people both laugh and cry, think and sigh, and probably die a little inside, and 2) I was nervous about going to college knowing just a few seniors coming with me.

But I was mostly sad about the speech.

I realized later that this was a blessing for several reasons, all stemming from two things I learned about myself in college: public speaking makes me moderately nauseous, and URI, though a large school, is much like Rhode Island: small and full of fun people who agree driving more than 40 minutes is a road trip.

Four years later, Cigar production manager and senior Andrew Blais is making that precious senior commencement speech, and I have this designated empty space for my last column - my own version of the graduation speech I've always wanted to make. Except I can write things out the way I want and my stomach's not turning trying NOT to picture people naked (I'd like to have a chat with whomever came up with THAT brilliant piece of advice.)

I'm not going to give the straight "here's what I learned, take heed of this" speech because that's just not my style.

I will say that after covering several graduation and commencement ceremonies this past summer for a Rhode Island newspaper, I've never been so disgusted with clichés in my life. (Sorry, Chloe.) Out of all the inspirational or humorous things you could say as a speaker, I'll never understand why people resort to Forrest Gump for advice. How many times can a reporter sit through the "Life is like a box of chocolates" philosophy?

Here's my one nugget of gold, the sole bit of truth that exists in the core of this crazy world (OK. Maybe I'm not exempt from ALL clichés...)

Are you ready?

Forrest Gump is full of it.

Yes, he ran when no one else thought he could run. And yes, Forrest, many good things came from your existence, including a prominent shoutout to 1994 and a fine chain restaurant called Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.

But my biggest issue with Mr. Gump is none other than his momma. I'm known around the office to be the biggest violator of "your mom" jokes, and probably in poor taste, but this time I really mean it.

Life is not about dealing with situations like a box of chocolates. No, Mrs. Gump. NO. It's about biting into each chocolate until you find the one you want, which in my case would be the one with the strawberry cream filling.

Life is about being aggressive. If this place, and by this place I mean URI and The Good Five-Cent Cigar, has taught me anything, it's taught me to speak up. Speak up for what you believe in, speak up when you have a question, speak up when you want to take the lead and speak up when you're waiting in line for your pizza and the Ronzio's man is looking at everyone but you with your slice in hand.

I know, out of all the things I could talk about in my faux graduation speech, I choose to talk about being aggressive. But it's hard not to become so attached to the concept, seeing as I was one of the most painfully shy human beings that I knew throughout a large part of my life.

I even lost a summer job once because I didn't speak up (don't worry, I was working three jobs then so I still made bank.) I'd speak in class when spoken to, take months to really get to know people and shied away from many opportunities when I was younger. It was much more of a handicap than anything to me. I started to participate in more speaking-oriented activities like mock trial (four years and always a champion, baby) and the student newspaper to try to get over my shyness, but it wasn't until I came here that I really broke out of my shell.

I also met Blais, who most of you will meet at commencement if you haven't already, and you'll see at least one partial reason why staying in my shell was going to be impossible.

It's painful to think about the person I once was sometimes, and many of the professors and people in student organizations I've grown close to can't even begin to imagine the appreciation I have for them. I still have my quiet moments, but I've never regressed to statue status.

I suppose if I'd gone to "the big city" (wherever that is) like I'd originally wanted to, I'd be in a completely different place. I had envisioned my 22-year-old self to be a lot different than I am today - that includes a much more "grown-up" taste in music and getting over my Coffee Addiction (Established 2003).

But I also wanted to be the female version of former Boston Celtics player Larry Bird when I was in middle school, and I have to say the closest I've ever come to that is the Boston Garden, Section 302, Row 6.

The point is, your voice/pen is the most incredible gift you can ever give. And as a "hard-line" supporter of the First Amendment, I hope I've created the best venue possible for you to express that beautiful freedom.