A look back at the things that made Fresno State great

THE REAL REASON why I decided to come to Fresno was to stick to a promise I made to a girl when I was in the seventh grade.

We met at a house-warming party here. She was tall, beautiful, a year older and everything else that helped her land the label “perfection.” I was sweet, funny and smart — all the necessary things that became ineffective in her presence.

But, somehow, she saw through it and we connected that summer day anyway. We exchanged numbers. And a couple of expensive phone bills later, we became a couple, one that saw each other once or twice a year.

Then one night, as I was secretly talking to her while the house was asleep, I promised that I would move to Fresno. Not only for her — because even then we both knew it wouldn’t last — but also for me, who had dreams of leaving the small, suffocating town of Modesto.

The time came after I turned 22, the age many people receive his or her college diploma. Instead, I was a transfer student at Fresno State. But the timing couldn’t be more perfect. I had family here by then. My life really started to take shape.

That’s not to say the past two years would appear in VH1’s “Best Week Ever.” In the end, I’m grateful of everything.

I worked at The Collegian first as a reporter, then news editor, then features editor, then special-assignment reporter and, finally, as a columnist and sports writer.

There, I made lasting friends, the ones who had the unique urge to go to On The Rocks every other Thursday night; the ones who attend Fresno State sporting events with; the ones who would invite me to their house to watch “American Idol” but instead, we’d end up cracking jokes on each other, and we would never once take anything said personally; and the ones who all came together when we learned that we had lost a great friend in Nathan Hathaway in mid-November of last year.

That’s not all.

I also made friends through Dog Days, the new student orientation program here. They, too, are lasting friends, the ones who taught me waking up as early as 4:30 a.m. for a summer job isn’t all that bad when the people around you have such a positive attitude all the time; the ones who took me to Hooters because they heard the restaurant had good hot wings; and the ones who came together like the family we were when our friend, Kenyonte Dyer, died early this year, leaving a large hole in our hearts.

And I can’t forget about the friends I made through the Cambodian Collegian Association, as well as the ones I meet in my classes the past five semesters.

These were the friends I missed most when I was in Yakima last summer. There, I experienced how it was like to be independent. Sure, the small central Washington town was boring, but it was enough to give me an idea that life is nothing without friends.

Every good gesture, small or big, from a friend I cherish.

This also means the ones I receive from my readers. That’s hard to believe: that I have readers. Some have said that my weekly column, which ran Fridays for the past two semesters under the names “The New Hotness” and “I Make This Look Good,” made their days better. And some others said my writing is terrible and even one called me a sexist because of the way I described women in my column.

I just smile, say thanks and move on.

All I know is that the good stuff sticks, while the bad stings for just a little bit — just like that girl I met in the seventh grade.

She was a liar. She was, in fact, a year younger than me. And one time, she wanted to see me only so she can take away one of my basketball jerseys. Even so, I don’t have any regrets.

Funny how things work out: I made a promise, and look at the things I got from it.

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