Well, this is a little awkward. I had a whole Jumbo-sized load of Tufts nostalgia that I spilled out into what I thought was a goodbye final column a couple of weeks ago. Looks like I spent it a little prematurely. Now I don't really have much left to say except maybe something along the lines of, "Hi Tufts. It's been … um … something. Don't bother calling. Cheers!" However, the wigs behind the scenes laughed and told me that was a little too short.
And now, aside from currently having less to say than Charlie Sheen in a game of "Never Have I Ever," it's a little weird to be writing this article. First off, I'm not hungover on a Sunday morning scrambling to get this in before my editors hunt me down with a baseball bat. Second, with a Commencement article, I feel like I should be imparting some words of wisdom. Well, just yesterday I learned about a girl who didn't know she was pregnant until she went into labor. Suffice it to say, that little nugget has me questioning what I considered to be the hard and fast truths of the world.
And last of all, as I write this, it's only May 6, and I'm still a skip, hop and a jump away from graduation, a fact my mother keeps imploring me to remember. Right now, I still have plenty of time to fail and put off life a tad longer. Throw Senior Week in the mix, and there are way too many opportunities to get kicked out for this to be a joke. Hell, the Vegas odds on a post-exams casualty at 9 Fairmount are about 4-1.
My first message, then, would be, "Good luck, Steve. A) I hope you're still alive, and B) I hope you're picking up a $200,000 piece of paper today. God knows you didn't earn it."
My second and third messages are a wee bit contradictory. They are less my messages to others and more my (presumably shared) visceral reactions to today. "It's about time," and "Shhhi … oot!" (Sorry. Forgot there were parents out there today.)
Let's cut through all the nonsense for a minute. College has been and will remain the plushest, easiest four years of many of our lives. Now most of us are trying to join a dwindling modern phenomenon known as "the work force." One piece of advice about jobs: Unlike classes, I'm pretty sure attendance is mandatory. But at the same time, this is an exciting time. For the past four years, I've been developing the necessary skills to function in the real world. I finally get to take my esoteric knowledge of Chaucer and early Middle English and apply it in my work … as a bartender. I hear the ladies love that one about the Wife of Bath and the Knight.
Fourth, realize that the bar is set pretty low. As long as you aren't moving back in with your folks, you are winning. Don't be tempted by heated apartments, free laundry or "cooked food." Otherwise you may end up like me. It's temporary, all right! TEMPORARY!
Finally, there is one real piece of advice that I think I'm overly qualified to impart. We may all be about to enter the "real world," but that doesn't mean we have to take life too seriously. The world is a more fun place when we're willing to laugh with each other, and we're happier people when we're willing to laugh at ourselves.
Other than that, I don't have much to say. Congratulations to everyone, I guess. We've made it this far; we'll all be just fine in the next phase. It's been a pleasure writing this column every week. I hope you maybe had a laugh on some dreary Mondays, and for those of you who sent me angry emails, thanks! They've been terrifically validating. It's been great. You've been great. And now, in the words of esteemed M.D. Dr. Dre, "just chill, 'til the next episode… "
