When graduation looms nearly within your grasp, your priorities change a bit.

It’s not that I don’t care about things … well, actually it is that I don’t care about things. And when I say “things,” I’m talking about stuff, and when I say “stuff,” I’m talking about stuff on campus.

As my interests move towards things outside of the ISU community, I cannot help but feel completely disinterested in creating or maintaining anything here at Iowa State.

A number of students are riled up about the state Legislature’s proposed cuts to the amount of funding from the Board of Regents that Iowa State receives. I’ve decided that it would probably be a bad thing for those cuts to take place, but I don’t really feel motivated to march on anything except Jimmy John’s.

I’ve been considering taking some pictures of the campus before I leave. I’m not much of a snapshot guy, myself, but the other day I was thinking that maybe I’d like to have some record of my time here at Iowa State.

It seems like a good idea, but I just don’t care enough to carry a camera all the way to campus. What would I do with pictures, anyway? I can see myself, 40 years from now, sitting around with my grandchildren and a musty photo album.

“Jimmy, this is a picture of Beardshear Hall. This is where Grandpa was bent over a couple times each semester.

“And here’s Lagomarcino. I never had any classes here, and I can’t even remember why the hell I took a picture of it.”

The majority of my memories of this university are either things I hope I can forget or things that aren’t worth remembering in the first place.

My parents and other relatives have been wondering if I intend to attend graduation. I think I’ve decided against it.

A lot has happened to me since I was a freshman. Back then I was a sandy-haired whipper-snapper with dreams of making my fortune in textiles.

Four years later, I haven’t accomplished that, but I am content with what I have done. With the exception of my brief stint as a renegade bounty-hunter with the ISU Skip Chasers Club, I’m pretty proud of what I’ve been able to do here.

In a lot of ways, I feel like getting my degree has been one of the least important things I’ve accomplished here. That’s not true for everyone.

For some people, their college years are defined by late nights at the library, working to get their diplomas.

For me, however, it would seem funny to make a big fuss about getting my diploma.

It’s just kind of something that happened while I was busying myself with other things.

Down the road, when robots from the ISU Foundation call me and ask for a donation, I can’t imagine I’ll have any interest in making one. I will look back fondly on people I met and things I did at Iowa State, but I don’t think I’ll care much about Iowa State itself.

In 10 years, what will be the same about this place? The buildings? Half of them will be torn down, and the other half will be renamed after rich donors.

My beloved Maintenance Shop will long since have been converted into office space.

Anything of any importance to me will be long gone. In fact, the only remnant from my time here will probably be the ISU Foundation, sucking in more money than ever before.

What is there here that is even worth caring about? What about this university has any permanence?

The positive things that happen at Iowa State happen more in spite of the administration than because of it. I fail to see any reason I should maintain any interest in this university after I receive my diploma in the mail.

None of this would even matter, except that the university seems to think it creates some type of community. In reality, the only common thread running through all ISU students is that we’ve all been screwed over by the office of financial aid at one time or another.

Beginning with the Catt Hall debates when I was a freshman, and continuing until now, the university has made it clear that it has no intention of listening to the wishes of students. At one time it bothered me, but I don’t care anymore.

My advice for incoming students is to make the university your whore and use it for all it’s worth, because that’s what it’s doing to you. Have a good time, but don’t feel like you owe this place anything.

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Ben Godar is a senior in sociology from Ames. He is an assistant arts and entertainment editor for the Daily.