When I was graduating from high school ten years ago, there was a really popular "song" that people loved to play to mark the passing of time and hopes for lessons learned upon a graduation. Maybe you cool kids still utilize this song to herald your "future"; maybe not. It was already four years old by the time I graduated, but I still listened in earnest every time it played.
The song was Baz Luhrmann's "Everybody's Free (to Wear Sunscreen.)" You know Baz, right? He directed the movie that began Leonardo DiCaprio's heart-throb status, Romeo and Juliet? And Moulin Rouge? And has directed the the soon to open remake of the Great Gatsby? You know him. And - first piece of life advice here - you're going to go see Great Gatsby when it opens. Why? Because it's a defining piece of literature and Baz is a musical/imagery genius and it's going to be a movie that will forever remind you of your launch into the real world, and will be the best cautionary tale of what could happen if you invest too much time and money into the false reality of the perfect life, the American dream, and all that jazz (1920's reference, there, my brother.)
Is it too cliche to say that I cannot believe that today you graduate from college? Yes, probably, but I've said it.
I haven't got too much time on you- I only got that undergraduate degree a mere six years ago. But damn, have those been a six years full of growth and change. So, dear little brother from another mother, here is my simple offering to you. In hope that six years from now, you will feel that who you were at 22, at this graduation, was just the beginning of all that is amazing in life.
Because it is. I promise, it really, really is.
So here goes.
You're going to fuck up. With your family, with your friends, at work. Try not to do it too many times. When you do, own it, learn from it, and move on. And then remind me of this too.
Write things down. Take pictures. You're going to forget a lot of the your twenties, but you can forget less of it if you take the time to remember it, to savor it, to pause in the moment and capture it.
Your first job, that job your going to grad school for, doesn't have be the end-all-be-all job. I mean, give it your all, work your ass off, be the best you can at it. But if, in ten years, you want to move on and do something different, feel no regret. Take your lessons and growth from it, and take the next great leap. Or if, in ten years, you are so content that you can't imagine doing anything else, take a moment and thank your lucky stars that you found that fulfilling thing so early in life. And keep rocking it.
Speaking of work, don't be your job. Don't give in to that hype that you have to work seventy hours a week to be worthwhile. Work smart, not hard. Manage your time and develop boundaries between work and life. Keep aspects of your life sacred, protect them, and don't compromise them. You will always be better at your job when you have the time to be you with those you love outside of working hours.
Be curious. Don't let your reading to learn stop now. It doesn't have to be academic, but keep learning, something, anything.
Every once in a while, pause to consider how you've grown and changed. I'd liken growing up through my twenties to the slow but progressive change in one's eyesight. Every once in a while, you have to stop and adjust the prescription- some things are clearer and some aspects are more difficult to see. You can't ignore it, and if you try, you're in for massive headaches, needlessly.
Be honest with yourself and note the awesome ways you've changed. Consider the small things you still think you could improve and commit to trying. And then, move on.
And when you do change, don't be surprised or angry if people or things seem different. The best things, the right people, will change and grow alongside you. Not necessarily in the same ways, but hopefully, in complementary ways. In ways that allow you to flex and bend, and them to bend and flex. Hopefully, you'll both in ways that allow you to still see and understand one another.
You don't have to always agree, but you have to agree to listen to, and hear, each other. If you can do that, everything else falls in to place.
You're not too old for that thing you're afraid you're too old for.
And there isn't ever really a good time to do the things you don't want to do, or the things you really want to do. So, you just gotta do them, and hope to hell those who love you will understand. (Which they will, even if they kinda hate it at first. Promise.)
Oh, and as Baz says, wear sunscreen.
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