Dear College Me,
As I head back to college for my (our?) 20th reunion this weekend, I’m feeling nostalgic and reflective. If I could give myself a few pieces of advice, it would look something like this.
Take it easy with the fashion
I know it was a different time then, and I can forgive the oversize flannels and the slip dresses, but for the love of God, what made you think those hybrid Oxford-clogs were a good idea?
You’re not on the offensive line.
It’s cool that your guy friends played football. It’s cool that you ate lunch with them most days. But you probably didn’t need to go to the aptly named Full Fare, the all-you-can-eat dining hall, most days and you definitely didn’t need to actually eat all you could eat each time.
Milwaukee’s Best is not in fact “the best”
I know, beer pong is fun. And you’re really good at it. (Shut up, Misong.) But years later, when your fat picture is on Oprah with your face blurred out, you’ll thank me for telling you to pump the brakes.
Also, you did a lot of dumb, embarrassing shit when you drank all that Beast. In related news, shopping carts are for groceries, not pre-Uber rides for drunk college girls from the frat house to your apartment.
You’re not pre-med material.
I’m trying to say this in the nicest way. Just because you have the 4-color clicky pen to draw molecules in organic chem and you like kids, does not mean you’ll make a good pediatrician. There are other requirements that you do not meet, including: proficiency in science, a lack of squeamishness around the body including blood, and the ability to pull an all nighter. Do you know why your classmates cheered when you showed up for Organic Chemistry 2? It wasn’t because they were celebrating your radiant future as the best pediatrician since Dr. Doug “George Clooney” Ross; it was because your grades were helping out the curve in a big way. Plus, spoiler alert: you don’t become a doctor.
Love yourself just the way you are.
With your terrible fashion, your questionable grades, and your Freshman
15 20, recognize that you’re still a person of value. Don’t let boys’ attention determine your self-worth.
You’re there to learn.
That’s literally what your parents are paying all that money for. Do not squander this time. Do not take for granted professors like Terry Osborne, who, if he didn’t inspire the “Oh Captain My Captain” professor character in Dead Poet’s Society, absolutely could have. Learn about stuff that interests you (cough, cough, not physics) and apply yourself. Maybe go to the library once in a while, so at your 15th reunion, you don’t go to show your husband beautiful Baker Library and embarrass yourself by not being to find the entrance. Hypothetically, of course.
Don’t get a dog.
You can barely take care of yourself; trust me, you can not handle a puppy. And you definitely shouldn’t get a puppy with your six roommates in your ramshackle house.
Experience dog parenthood vicariously through your Theta Delt friends. Everyone knows that Cassius and Appy are the best dogs on campus anyway. Miss you, Cash.
Branch out from the football guys.
You had some great times with those guys, they’re good guys for the most part, and they were great companions for watching Days of Our Lives. But they were pretty bad influenc-y and you also missed out on making friends with different kinds of people. Like, you could’ve been friends with Chris Miller and Phil Lord and they probably would’ve given you a cameo in Solo, possibly as Chewie’s BFF pre-Han. Also, you wouldn’t have eaten so much Full Fare.
You were onto something with the lady friends though.
With the exception of the really skinny psycho one and the really mean athletic one, you’re going to meet some super high quality girls who will stay in your life for years to come. (Beth will even help you with the aftermath of the riding-the-shopping-cart-home incident.) They’re smart, funny, loyal, fun and you’ll travel to great places and share amazing things together. One day, the year you’re all turning 40, a big group of you will spend a long weekend in Palm Springs acting like jackasses and loving every minute of it.
Don’t stand next to Nina in Italy though, a bird will poop on you.
Lastly, take care of Leo. You can live with all your other mistakes.
You’re going to have a great, possibly too great, time.
— Me (you)