Though a blog post for everyone, this was written with the intent to share with my brothers.
Yes, according to my Timehop, 3 years ago I was initiated into the Beta Septaton chapter of Phi Sigma Kappa. The doors to the house opened and I along with the rest of my 20 other pledge brothers ran up the College Ave Hill to the Westscott Fountain and jumped in. Two pictures were taken, one in front of the house and one at the fountain. I some how got hidden in both of them, which led me to posting neither to my instagram, as I had so hoped. But I promise I’m in there.
It was official. I was a brother. I could wear letters to the gym and put them on the back of my car. I could get cheaper drinks at the bars and could avoid paying cover. And most importantly, I was no longer a pledge. In my eyes, those were the best parts of being a brother. The letters. The bar benefits. And the ending of pledging. God bless the ending of pledging.
The years that followed were everything I expected them to be and then some. My weekends were the equivalent of a hip hop video on repeat. A constant cup in my hands. Beautiful girls around for no reason. Granted, I wasn’t always the star of the video. Often, I was more of the guy in the back who happened to be walking through the set, but still.
Girls who dissed me as a “GDI”, now rushed to hug and kiss me. They told all their friends how I leave, how they miss me. My “number” more than quadrupled (which isn’t saying too much because it wasn’t very high to begin with), but I never felt more like the “man” then those years of being an active brother. I’d walk up to the club, skip every non-brother in line, and look at anyone like they were crazy if they dare mutter something about it.
I was a Phi Sig. And if you don’t know what that means, imagine a combination of Mike Lowrey from Bad Boys and Nick from Jimmy Neutron. In college, at a school like FSU, in the bubble that is Tallahasssee, being one is all you seemingly need.
But now as I sit at my eight to five, flipping through friends’ snapchats, and writing blog posts about what was, it’s not the rocking of letters to the Leach, getting charged a nickel for drinks, or all the girls that I reminisce about the most.
No… I think about that final inspirational week of pledging with my pledge class. I think about RVing with 6 of my brothers including my Little to Clemson in The Cream Machine. I think about the whole fraternity coming together for a great cause each year at our philanthropy Rock the House, which honors one of our brothers.
Those moments shine more than any, and if I could go back and do it all, I’d try to make more of them. I’d try to take more trips with my brothers. I’d try to share a signature memory with each of them. I’d even try to smoke weed with everyone (cause weed is so college).
And if I (as a lowkey has-been simply looking back) could give one piece advice to my brothers still in the midst of it all, I’d say, “Before everything else, before the girls, before the perks, before the ‘being the man’, before even the location of the house, first be brothers. Be brothers first and everything else will fall into place and you won’t look back during your future eight to five wishing you had done anything different.”