Natalie Merchant and Dido had their turns. Now here is mine.

Thank you.

Thank you to the friends I made ranging from the freshmen to the graduating class and those who left before me, for teaching me that it doesn’t matter what age we are, we can learn from each other and our experiences.

Thank you to my sophomore roommates who gave me back my freshman year.

Thank you to “movie Boston” as I like to call it. The city that bore the great revolutionary leaders of our time: who else but Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. Thanks for the seasons that change and that I probably will never see in Las Vegas. Thanks for fall foliage. No thanks to the excessive amounts of snow and rain, but thanks to my peacoat for keeping me warm. Thanks to my cell phone for keeping me in touch with my family and friends back home.

Thanks for spring’s flowers and humidity. Thanks J.P Licks; Baskin Robbins can not compare. Thanks to Avenue Victor Hugo Bookshop for great prices and classic books. Thanks to the culture, diversity and history that makes this a great college town.

Thanks for the Head of the Charles, an event that illustrates the “movie Boston” I’m talking about. Thanks for the smell of fried dough on a crisp winter’s day in Downtown Boston. Thanks for H’M (please think about expanding to the west coast). Thanks to the Frog Pond for my less than stellar-ice skating experience. Thanks for outdoor concerts, the 4th of July at the MDC Hatchshell and Earth Fest. Thanks Au Bon Pain for your bagels, pastries and pricey mocha blasts (you may want to consider a new location in Vegas as well). Thanks to the authors who come to Boston and the bookstores that bring them in. No one reads in Las Vegas. Thanks to the chess players in the corner of Harvard Square’s ABP (no one plays chess in Vegas either. Blackjack yes, chess no).

Thanks for Centennial Commons. I know it’s spring when the students come out of hibernation and lay on your grass or play a game of Frisbee. Thanks for the student center where I spent most of my days on the fourth floor and came out smelling like a D’ Angelo’s sandwich at the wee hours of the morning. Thanks to The Northeastern News staffers before and after me and who remain for keeping me company on those long Tuesday nights and who always gave me something to talk about. Thanks to the girls of NU who actually have fashion sense. Thanks to Shillman Hall, you have the best chairs and I attribute some of my As to your classrooms. Kariotis Hall, on the other hand, gets no gratitude from me. Thanks to Lake Hall and Meserve Hall: I figured out your maze, finally. Thanks to Snell Library for putting books where they do not belong and making me look endlessly for them.

Thanks to the editors, reporters and journalism professors who not only taught me the inverted pyramid, where a lead goes and the ultimate rule of journalism: when it’s wrong, the first thing you do is get it right; but also listened to me, gossiped on a good day and were always willing to help me in any endeavor. I admire your passion for this profession. Thanks to the professor who once told me 90 percent of life is showing up, but let me figure out the other 10 percent on my own.

Last but not least.

Thanks for that day, etched in my memory. That day was the day my parents dropped me off at my dorm, and tried to prolong the goodbye as much as they could. That was the day my mother remained strong trying to block her tears, but my father who was normally shy around his young daughter, embraced me, cried, and patted me on the head with a touch of warmth that still sends shivers down my spine. I always remembered that feeling of love and never let it go. I didn’t know what I would do without them, but they reassured me that I would do good things, get a good education and learn a thing or two about growing up. I did. I had to.

They always knew the right thing to say when things looked low and rejoiced with me when things looked up. They supported their only daughter so much that they encouraged her to travel across the country, against cultural taboos and much to the chagrin of some family members, and said “Afsha, you can do it.” For that, I am eternally grateful. Though I’ve said it countless times. Thanks again, to the best friends a girl could have. Thanks Mom and Dad. You deserve this diploma as much as I do.

It’s funny … I always said I couldn’t find what I was looking for, but I guess I always knew, I just had to travel thousands of miles to realize it. That’s irony for ya.

Good luck class of 2003, I hope you find what you’re looking for.

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