To The Graduating Class of 2012

by heytherewildflower

Dear humans of the soon to be graduating class of 2012,

If you want to embark on a clusterfuck “post-graduate experience” I suggest you do this: Don’t make a plan. Don’t ship off to Africa to cure AIDS utilizing research derived from artificial baboon insemination. Don’t run away to Ecuador to teach English when really your goal is: learn Spanish/grow dreadlocks. Don’t move to Boulder or Denver or San Francisco with 15 friends and chill on it. Move somewhere random all by yourself with no short term plan whatsoever. Thats how you get TUFF.

OR, RATHER, If we want to make this about ME, if you want an accurate vision of my post-graduate life: scrap the glamorous roommate and apartment, scrap the 8,000 different jobs, scrap the barely put together outfits in the outfit posts, scrap the happy relationship, scrap everything but the self deprecating wit and the sheer confusion. SCRAP IT ALL.

See, my way of doing things is always the hard way. If there is an easy way, or a nice way, or logical way, IT IS NOT MY WAY. My “POST GRADUATE EXPERIENCE” has contained a babyhood, a terrible twos, elementary school, adolescence, and now, I am the wise ass fool of the early twenties (where I should be). I’ve come to dread the onslaught of imaginary wrinkles. I sleep with my boobs strapped to my chin for fear of future sagging (except im also scared of causing hyperactive development of those between the boobs wrinkles I’ve heard prophecies of whispers of rumors about???!). Except I know absolutely nothing. Except I am clinging to the skin of teeth to a vague notion about how to conduct myself in an orderly, efficient and productive manner… but! still BE WILD ENOUGH TO WRITE SOME WILD POETRY.

Imagine this: The TV show, “girls”, but with one girl. all by herself. bouncing ideas off the walls. smacked in the face by her own thoughts. beaten up by her own damn brain. The Solitary Girl Show. It’s either a soap opera or a circus act. And by circus act, I mean FREAK SHOW.

Good luck motherfuckers, whatever route you choose. Nothing will be easy and it is impossible to plan so thoroughly as to make it easy.

You know those recently graduated idiots who look super duper happy or super duper successful or super duper together-town on facebook? They’re lying their social media faces off. Full. Of. Baloney.

Peace Brothers.

“As a matter of simple logic, there’s no difference at all that I can see, between the man who’s greedy for material treasure–or even intellectual treasure–and the man who’s greedy for spiritual treasure, God damn it, and it seems to me that ninety per cent of all the world-hating saints in history were just as acquisitive and unattractive, basically, as the rest of us are.”

“What I don’t like at all is this little hair-shirty private life of a martyr you’re living back at college–this little snotty crusade you think you’re leading against everybody. I agree, they’re not harmless. They’re lethal as hell, as a matter of fact. God almighty. They make everything they touch turn absolutely useless. Or–worse–cultish. But you dont just despise what they represent– you despise them. It’s too damn personal.”

-Zooey Glass, Franny and Zooey by JD Salinger