#lawschool #finals #killme
… and realize where you’ve been keeping your highlighter.
My sister [with conviction]: “Don’t cancel your score unless you get diarrhea in the middle of the test.”
You’d rather exercise.
If I were to give a college graduation speech, which we all know I will never be asked to do, here’s what I would say.
Hello. You are now all in crippling debt. Congratulations–starting adulthood strong. Here we are, at this beautiful private liberal arts college with perfectly trimmed hedges and just the right amount of ivy covering the Victorian architecture, where you all majored in something that has a plethora of real-world applications. Let me guess–some of your thesis titles were:
Struggling Dichotomies Amidst the Post-Antebellum Afrocentric Paradigm
Ideological Implications of Gentrification in the Cubist Repertoire vs. Napoleonic Functionality in the Neoteric Criterion Between 1855 and 1855 1/2
Thematic Archetypes in Homoerotic Narratives, Meta-Allegory, and Prototypical Modalities in Propagandized Subcultural References
But it’s okay, because you chopped your hair off and switched to Diva Cups, so you really found yourself, you know? Book smarts, we can take or leave. But that real world knowledge and experience–now THAT’S what’s going to benefit you as you enter the next phase of your lives. For example, four years of never having to cook your own meals or wash your own dishes–totally realistic. And then there’s the dorm life–never really having to clean up after yourself, endless printer paper, living one door away from your best friend–HELLO, that’s literally a verbatim description of every adult’s life.
Oh, and of course anything sex or health-related. Run out of condoms? No problem–there’s a free health clinic right down the hall. Might as well get tested for HIV while you’re there. Heck, it’s free, and they can do it right then and there, with one quick swab o’ the cheek, so why not? Health insurance? What’s that? Submitting claims, spending outrageous amounts of money on deductibles and endless hours on the phone debating with your adjuster as to what exactly the definition of “pre-existing” is I mean let’s get existential for a second, just humor me–is anything ever really pre-existing, who’s to say we’re not all just living an endless cycle, where there are no beginnings and there are no ends? No ma’am, this is college–we don’t deal with that here. A life of paralyzing loneliness where you’d NEVER even come remotely close to running out of condoms and you’re lucky if you have sex once per year and even then it’s never good enough to justify getting a bikini wax and actually putting pants on? Lol ummm that makes no sense, our collegiate lives are one long stream of ENDLESS sexual partners.
In other words, you guys are completely prepared. Life post-college is going to be exactly as you experienced it in college. All those horror stories you hear about having to do your own taxes, and colonoscopies, and rent–those are all just fables. You’re going to continue to need your 1,000 page poetry anthology that cost $85, your body will forever stay in its sexual prime, and you’ll marry your college sweetheart–he’s totally not going to knock up his next girlfriend after you and live happily ever after. And your clique of friends–it’s never going to disperse. You’re all going to continue sleeping on each other’s floors, barfing in each other’s toilets, and borrowing each other’s bikinis. Perhaps most important of all, you’ll definitely be able to buy a latte, or box of oatmeal, or a 3 AM Philly cheesesteak with your “flex points”–they’re 100% legal tender.
You guys! This is great news! College was supposed to be your transition from child- to adulthood. It was supposed to prepare you for life. And obviously, it did! I, for one, cannot wait to run into you at the gas station when you can’t figure out how to work the only available pump, or wait as you hold up the line at the DMV because you have to ask your mom for your social security number but she won’t respond to your texts, or watch as you completely fail your credit check at the bank.
The world sure needs more people like you. Don’t let anyone tell you that the fact that you were born in the 90s is a handicap–they’re just jealous that you’ll be able to vote for Hillary in the upcoming election without knowing or caring jack shit about her history as one of politics’ great sociopaths, or the context of her campaign. I mean, Bill Clinton Schmill Schminton, am I right?! I just can’t tell you how relieved I am that you guys are the up-and-comers. I feel good knowing that the fate of the world rests in your hands–those same hands that are always texting and driving. Or, to be fair, probably Snapchatting and driving. Clearly, hands that know what they’re doing; hands that have their priorities straight. Responsible hands; college-educated hands.
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