First off, I want to say congratulations, graduates! You did it! That’s the good news. The bad news is nothing you just did is going to prepare you for anything that happens after today. If anyone told you it would prepare you, well, they were lying. The last four years have been one long charade. Everyone going along with the ruse. Acting as if you were being readied for success in your career. And every choice you made in these four years was instrumental in that success. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that that is complete bullshit. Also bullshit, you can’t really do anything you put your mind to and one person doesn’t make a difference. Of course there are exceptions to every rule. But we’re not here to talk about exceptions, we’re here to talk about you. Basically you’re in for a rude awakening. I know this is a bitter pill to swallow, especially on such a joyous occasion as this, but I wish whoever had spoken to me on my graduation day had at least prepared me, somewhat, for the terrible years that were to follow. Whatever your major was, that, as of today, is of no concern to anyone. Nobody will ever ask you or care. Sorry. (Maybe you’ll get asked it in a job interview, but I guarantee the interviewer will glaze over during your response. The only people who will ever really care are other recent graduates you meet at a party in the coming months. This is only because you are still learning basic conversational skills and are falling back on the only thing you have to talk about.) Most of what’s going to happen after today, I’m sad to report, is confusion, fear, and crippling anxiety. None of you are getting jobs in your chosen field anytime soon, so put that misconception to rest right now. They’re still backed up on jobs for graduates from 2014. You’re going to have to take a crappy job probably very soon. Unless you’re rich. In which case this has all just been something to do for you and God bless, your lifetime of alcoholism and dissatisfaction awaits you. But for the other 99.9 percent of you, things are about to get shitty fast. I would say enjoy the next weeks. Parties, packing, etc. But I’m guessing soon after that you’ll need a job. You’re not getting one in political science or sociology or communications. None of those words actually even mean anything in the outside world. Again, sorry. Also, you know how you were competing with everyone else in your school for top grades, or teaching assistantships, or the lead in the show? That was tough, right? Well, now you’re going to be competing with the entire world. And that’s a whole lot tougher. I guess nobody told you this before because, well, it’s a lot to take in. Who’s the best actor in your graduating class? Raise your hand, please. Come on, don’t be shy. Ah. There you are. Hi. You’re probably never going to be a famous actor. Or even get a part. Like people graduating Julliard and Yale School of Drama can’t get work, so think about it. Yeah. It’s tough to hear, I know. Those shows you just did the past four years are things you’ll reflect on in three decades when you’re middle-aged and depressed. They will either make you feel better or worse, depending on your level of depression. Again, there are exceptions to every rule. But the odds are you’re not one of them. I’m guessing most of you will be working in the service industry within a few weeks and will be wondering how that happened. Well, it happened because there aren’t that many jobs and your major was likely stupid. I hope you had a lot of sex and drank a lot. That was the best thing you could have done to prepare yourself for your twenties, which is mostly drinking and sex. And if it’s not, it should be. Because nothing else will be happening. Your early twenties, though, will be okay. You have a bit of leeway to “figure things out.” The first few Thanksgivings you go home for, you can get away with saying things like “I want to get life experience first” and “I’m saving to backpack through Thailand.” It’s only when you get around twenty-seven that they will begin to get truly worried. That is when you will really dread going home for the holidays. It’s not very festive to talk about your job waiting tables after having spent over two hundred thousand dollars on tuition. Debt so deep you’ll never get out of it unless you win the lottery. Which you won’t (and if you do, you would likely blow it all and then commit suicide, like most lottery winners). The real dread comes when you approach thirty and you feel like you’ve been going backward instead of forward. Now you’ll realize you don’t actually even know what it is you want to do. You’ll start avoiding family members to avoid questions as you sink even further into debt. Perhaps you’ll even consider going back to school to get another useless degree. If only to have something to talk about when people ask what you’re up to that doesn’t make them cringe. To compound the misery, also by this time you are unlikely to have found a significant other. Your years of slutting around leaving you ill-equipped with the tools you’ll need to foster a nurturing relationship. The walls will feel like they’re closing in on you. Your friends will all seem to be doing better, but trust me, they, too, will be drowning. Each tiny hard-won success—a job, a promotion, a wedding, a child—will prove to be its own little hell. In order to survive you will have to disconnect from the hopeful person you are today. All those conversations you had late into the night these past four years about what you will do in the future, well, none of that’s going to happen. Let me see, how best to describe to you what it’s going to be like after today. I know. Pretend you’ve never waited tables before. You have no experience whatsoever. And now, you are about to be waiting dozens of tables with the most demanding customers in the busiest restaurant in the world. Figuring out everything as you go. With no break. Ever. Until you die. That kind of sums up life after today. This safe little baby world you’ve been living in will be gone forever once you leave here. Everything from this day forward is going to be scrambling. Fumbling to keep up. Pay your bills. Figure out what you want to do. Who you want to be. I wish I could help you, I really do. But I can’t. That’s the messed-up thing. Nobody can. You only have you. But here are some other things that are true. Paying for your first apartment by yourself is amazing. Nothing is better than being independent. Making your own decisions. Don’t blame others when things go wrong. That will be useful to know. Also, learn to apologize. And take criticism. When it’s helpful. And when it’s not, fuck it. Your instincts are always right. If you don’t love what you’re doing you won’t be successful at it. Unless you’re extremely good-looking. Don’t peak too early. And don’t be too hard on yourself. You still have roughly eight summers in your twenties ahead of you. There is nothing more beautiful than a summer in your twenties. Cherish each one. It’s okay to not figure out what you want to do until you’re thirty. Or even later. Whenever is actually okay. Don’t ever not do anything because you’re afraid of failing. Failing is fine. I used to be terrified of it. It’s actually not a big deal, and sometimes a relief. Don’t lie to yourself. Work hard. Don’t be an asshole. Not everything has to happen immediately. Play the long game. Hang around people who value you. Don’t be in a relationship just for the sake of it. It’s okay to be alone. Go to the theater. Look at art. Read. These are the important things. Making time for coffee with a friend who feels like shit is also important. Always visit someone in the hospital. Always go to weddings and funerals. Everything else you can skip. Get a dog. Walk. Whenever you have the opportunity to go on a trip, take it. See the world. Always be willing to change your mind. Try. Try. Try.