An Open Letter to the Class of 2014
As I type this, I'm sitting on a train headed to my fifth wedding appointment in the last seven days. Jealous? You shouldn't be. And if you are, get your fucking head checked.
But I've got news for you: This is exactly what the class of 2013 has to look forward to in a few short years. A merciless onslaught of weddings, dull office parties, and child births; a closet full of blue oxfords, an unwanted expertise in Microsoft EXCEL and even deaths. (Yeah, people be droppin'.) Life for the next wave of college graduates is about to become a new brand of domesticated hell. A hell where skipping work because of hangovers, video game marathons and general whogivesafuckness doesn't fly (unless, ya know, nepotism). No more midday naps, either; which becomes the tragedy to end all tragedies once 3 p.m. rolls around. And all that stuff Mom and Dad's bank account used to take care of…. That's now going to fall squarely on recent grads' shoulders and their paychecks, which, by the way, will be the definition of abysmal. Now, who's got a boner!?!
I DO! (I stream porn on my second monitor.)
But you, the class of 2014: You have another story. You've been moved to youth's death row. Only this green mile has 5-star amenities. You're still firmly latched onto that problem-solving, money-giving, tuition-paying tit known as your parents (if you're lucky) and time is of the essence—especially if you haven't talked them into paying for grad school or you can't stomach the idea of racking up $150k more of debt yourself. And really, who could?
The problem with you rising seniors is that right now some of you are probably wishing your days away. Saying, “I can't wait to graduate and start making money; start my life.” The fuck you can't, Bros (and you too, you SWUGs). What waits for most of you on the other side ain't pretty. For 79.99% of recent grads, the real world is a miserable pit of sun-cooked shit that comes in the form of a cubicle and casual Fridays. Not to mention an office full of weirdos and a toolbag boss who starts his sentences by saying shit like, “When the rubber meets the road” and thinks everything under the fucking sun is “synergistic.” Trust me, a fun job (like this one) is rare. And most (like this one) pay like shit when you are fresh out of the university's womb. I toiled in cubical monkey hell for years before I landed in this gig. And it wasn’t a soft landing, either. Life's crescent kicked me down a 100 flights of stairs before I wound up here, happy.
Cherish the next year.
By now, most of you have done enough in the way of effort or damage that your senior year grades won't have much baring on your employment status. Make sure you pass your classes so you actually graduate, but live this next year unfettered and leave nothing in your wake. DO NOT squander this time. Fuck the girl you think you’re too tired to fuck. Attend that party you were going to skip. Skip that class you were going to attend—we both know you'll never grasp derivatives anyway. And for the love of shit, don't wish this next year away because once it's gone, it's gone for good.
The transition after college happens quickly and everything you love about college will slowly, but surely, stop having its place in your life. So love it while you still can! Yes, the rest of your twenties will continue to be a modified extension of college but at some point adulthood shows up unannounced and jizzes on your face. Benders will be replaced with working all night, video games become replaced with watching the Disney channel with your kids, WITTY AS FUCK fraternity t-shirts will be replaced with, ya know, shirts normal human beings wear, and beautiful, reckless sex with godless whores will be replaced with locking yourself in the bathroom and jacking off of to porn on your iPhone as your naiive wife sits in the living room watching HGTV while thinking her cooking has caused your asshole to take its own personal odyssey.
So, Class of 2014, what I leave you with is this (classic way to end a commencement speech): The real world has its advantages, but it can wait. It, I regretfully assure you, is not going anywhere, anytime soon. But college is fleeting. And you have this one, final hurrah. One last chance to live an entire twelve months just for the story. Don’t fucking blow it.
Your Humble Servant,
Follow me on Twitter @JCamm_
[Class of 2014 image via ShutterStock]