what i've learned since college (seriously abridged version)

as promised, to commemorate the fact that 10 years ago today i graduated from college, below is a partial list of some things i've learned in that time. full disclosure: most of them i've learned in the last two years. but they still count.


- Letting fear get the best of you sometimes means spending a year living in a New Jersey suburb—memories of which will haunt you even in your 30s.
- Even if everyone is bitchy to you at your first job, smile and say hello.
- You may be able to drink whatever you want even into your late 20s, but keep in mind that it all catches up with you eventually.
- Hangovers get progressively painful the later into your 20s you get; prepare, at age 30, to be out of commission for days after a night of partying.
- You’re going to make a mistake pretty much every day, but it’s cool—no one said you’re supposed to know what you’re doing.
- Sometimes your 20s are worse than your teens in terms of self-esteem, hormones and pimples—but it will get better.
- There will be moments when you use what you learned in school, and moments when you think you didn’t learn a damn thing in all four years.
- Keeping in touch with former professors is a really smart and fun thing to do.
- Playing it safe has its benefits (I guess) but at no other time in your life than your 20s will you be able to take big, crazy chances and get away with it.
- It’s OK to job-hop for a little while, but keep in mind that every job has its negatives and hard work, long hours and tough bosses are just par for the course.
- The friendships you had in college will change dramatically, and that’s a really normal, OK thing.
- Go on a blind date if someone you trust and like offers to set you up—the worst that can happen is you have a funny story to tell.
- Be brave at work—speak up, suggest ideas, ask for a promotion or more money.
- Take some time to not be in a relationship—it’s the only way to figure out who the hell you really are.
- If you find yourself buying cereal with your credit card, you probably need to find a cheaper apartment.
- Having a job that people think is cool is sorta cool, but only if you’re being paid a reasonable amount and only if it’s challenging you.
- Make exercise a priority—it’s the best way to keep a clear head and when you reach 30, you’ll be glad you did.
- For many Septembers, you may walk up and down the aisles of Staples or a drug store, desperately wishing you had a reason to buy new school supplies. (It’s OK to buy a new notebook, just to satisfy the itch.)
- You will do many embarrassing things while intoxicated—sometimes even worse than college—just make sure none of them happen at your company holiday party.
- Semesters used to seem like they dragged and you couldn’t wait for winter break, summer vacation, graduation—in the post-college world, life is on fast-forward. The passage of time will knock you on your ass.
- It’s good to be open to anything—job opportunities, social engagements, living situations. Nothing is permanent; might as well give it a shot.
- Having a core group of friends is essential to staying sane.
- Having your own place to live at least for a little while is essential to knowing who you are and what you’re capable of.
- Everything in life is a choice—good, bad and otherwise—and every choice has its consequence (good, bad and otherwise).
- Roaches will show up in the worst places (your white bathroom rug) at the worst times (late at night)—crying seems like the only option, but it’s best to take a deep breath and gas the sucker with whatever is handy—hairspray, Fantastik, ant killer, etc.
- Yeah, real life can be a bitch sometimes, but not having homework, ever, is pretty awesome.

mb

my, how time flies

Ten years ago tomorrow I graduated from college.

I can write the words, but I can’t quite wrap my head around the idea. I’ve grown pretty used to the warp speed at which life seems to go these days, but it’s still more than a little crazy to think that it’s been 10 years since I wore that cap and gown, since I filed into the auditorium not to Pomp and Circumstance but to a live jazz band rendition of Take the A Train (which I thought was really, really cool).

Sometime around graduation I wrote to a girl I used to babysit who was getting ready for (and feeling anxious about) her freshman year of college. I wrote a list of things I’d learned about life and myself in college and sent it to her along with a letter. She wrote me a few months later thanking me for the advice—apparently it was helpful.

After a little searching on my hard drive earlier today, I found the list. Various items made me smile and sigh and roll my eyes. I thought, in honor of the 10-year mark, that I’d post it here. Tomorrow I will post a list of things I’ve learned since leaving college. I think I can come up with at least three….

What I Learned in College and Why I’m Smarter Because Of It:

- All about nut grafs and hard leads, heds and deks, and fact versus fiction.
- Even though it might look like chicken, it might not taste like chicken.
- The importance of long talks at 3 a.m.—and when not to talk at all.
- Gossip is fun to listen to, but best not to participate in.
- True friends know when to tell you to shut up and when to let you babble.
- Staring at a phone won’t make it ring.
- Lights and darks should be washed separately but can be dried together.
- Procrastination is unavoidable and should be welcomed with open arms.
- Most people waste office hours ass-kissing.
- Love has uncountable layers.
- Lusting after a professor will keep your attendance way up.
- Obsessions are great diversions but utterly disastrous.
- You can live on only a few paychecks a semester, as long as the IRS is good to you.
- Some kisses can take you places that aren’t on a map.
- E-mail is necessary and cost-effective.
- Phone bills should be paid on time.
- Time goes as fast or as slow as you want it to.
- There are never enough hours in a day.
- Days are fleeting—only moments matter.
- Eating together can be a bonding experience for practically anyone.
- Going to the gym is such a hassle, but the benefits are innumerable.
- The beach is the best place to soothe your soul and clear your head.
- Trust is difficult.
- I will get hurt.
- Getting lost is always an adventure.
- Tequila shots are for use by professionals only.
- No one can be the leader all the time.
- Playgrounds aren’t just for little kids.
- Pushing yourself hurts, but the pain is worth it.
- Dream analysis is a legitimate pastime.
- My alarm clock won’t always go off when I want it to.
- Anyone can learn to love beer.
- I will wake up after a wild party with bruises I can’t explain.
- Being alone once in awhile is inevitable and essential.
- Comfort zones are comfortable and dangerous.
- Mistakes are easy to make. The real challenge comes in learning from them.
- My parents do know everything.
- The majority of learning happens outside the classroom.
- It doesn’t matter if it’s the LIRR or Amtrak—people on trains are invariably weird and fascinating.
- Life will suck one day and be amazing the next. That’s just the way it goes.
- Eating chocolate cake for breakfast is something everyone should experience. But only once.
- Ghost stories are scarier at age 22 than they were at age 12.
- Diners are great places to heal your heart, makes lots of noise and piss off Greek waiters.
- Scooby Doo and The Smurfs will always be an important part of my life.
- Laughing till you cry is incredibly therapeutic.
- Winning Scrabble comes down to plain old luck.
- Surrounding yourself with talented, successful, happy people can only improve your life.
- “Home” is wherever YOU are at the moment.
- A fantasy world is a fun place to visit, but not a place to reside permanently.
- Professors can be great friends and will sometimes rely on you for advice.
- Newspapers aren’t boring and TV news is theatrical.
- A person can be jaded, insecure and sensitive all at once.
- Everyone perceives you in a different way.
- Everyone is in your life for a reason.
- When you don’t want it, you’ll get it.
- When you’re not looking, it’ll happen
- Without an alternative, a person can survive on pizza and Diet Coke alone.
- Don’t wish the semesters away; as soon as you’re out, you’ll want to get right back in.
- Anything is possible.

mb

my first true love

my parents aren't sure where i came from.

i mean, there's no denying i'm their kid (see: my clumsiness, love of writing, green eyes, love/hate relationship with the Yankees, etc). but they're not quite sure how i acquired certain interests. 

namely: city living.

considering i spent all of my formative years in a sleepy suburb in southeastern Pennsylvania (which, when i was growing up, had more farms around than strip malls—not so true today), my seemingly undying devotion to New York all but bewilders my parents. i was visiting them last weekend and the hot topic du jour was discussed several times—where Michael and i will live after we get married. 

my dad is really into the $8,000 tax credit currently offered to first-time home buyers. he thinks this is ample motivation to buy a house—it's a buyers' market and the government will throw cash at you if you take the plunge. win-win!

friends and other family members of ours have similar campaigns in progress, envisioning us everywhere from North Jersey to Suffolk County. 

of course there's the not-so-minor issue of not having a down-payment to fork over at the moment. but even more important than the cash issue is the issue of not being ready to leave the city.

i've blathered here before about being so over New York, about the tantalizing siren song of the suburbs. but i've realized over the last year or so that i'm only ever in the 'burbs for a day or two at a time. whether we're visiting family or friends, it's always a very limited exposure to gigantic grocery stores, pristine lawns and air that smells like damp leaves and charcoal grills. who's to say, if we actually moved there, that the infatuation would last more than a month? 

my recollection of growing up where i did was that it was great, truly—cruising around the neighborhood on our bikes all summer, spending hours upon hours in our backyards having adventures no one else could ever understand, finally going inside only when the fluorescent street lights flickered and buzzed into their bluish glow. even now i love lounging in the backyard on a warm evening, driving along stretches of country road that haven't yet been taken over by McMansion developers or Home Depot. 

but, as a kid, i longed for more excitement. i wanted to be where things were happening, where important people went, where the hubbub was. to me, even at a young age, that was New York. 

i saw my Gram last Friday and she had been sorting through old pictures. she had one of me—i couldn't have been more than 10 years old—and you couldn't see my face in the picture because i was reading a book and it was blocking my entire head. the cover of the book said, simply, NEW YORK CITY. 

when my parents and i would drive in from PA to have lunch or dinner, either before or after a Broadway matinee, i looked forward to the exhaust fumes. that is not an exaggeration. when a bus or a truck went by and left in its wake a cloud of gray smoke, i was comforted. i felt like i was home.

that is a ridiculous thing for a kid to notice, let alone enjoy, but it was one of the many things that separated my hometown from the city—something i could get in New York that i couldn't get at home. smog was a better smell to me than, say, fresh cut grass. i found it exciting. i felt like i was finally somewhere. 

it's also quite possible that—in a city of millions and millions of people—i finally felt like i was someone. 

i'm coming up on nine years of officially living in the city. and, granted, i haven't been the best New Yorker. i never had the funds for the trendiest bars or clubs or restaurants. i've never paddled a boat in the lake in Central Park. up until six months ago i'd never been to the top of the Empire State Building. i wasn't even here on September 11th. 

but the more i contemplate leaving—truly giving up life in the city—the more homesick i feel. when i'm walking around my neighborhood in Brooklyn, i can't imagine walking down a sidewalk anywhere else and not passing such a wide array of characters—new faces, old faces, crazy faces. i can't imagine having to get in my car to go to the gym. or going for a run and not being able to make my way to a promenade from which the city skyline and Statue of Liberty are visible. i hate to think about only being in the city when i'm working—rushing to and from some transit hub or another, speeding in and out of tunnels, just a temporary guest.  

the thing that worries me the most, though, about not being in the city anymore is feeling the way i felt when i was twelve, fifteen, eighteen—that i'm missing out by not being there. that life will go all black and white on me, no Technicolor to be found. dramatic, yes, but true all the same. i feel—at this point—that my city-less life will be lacking. 

i said a lot of this to my parents last weekend and that's what prompted them to wonder aloud where i'd come from. 

god only knows, but at least i know where i belong... for now. 

mb

simple gifts

last night—or maybe this morning, in between hitting the snooze button—i had an amazing dream. i had moved somewhere new, out of the city, and i had some anxiety about it. i decided to go for a walk and the next thing i knew, i was standing on a cliff overlooking the ocean. i can't tell you what joy it gave me to realize the ocean was just steps from my new place. i stared out at the water feeling completely euphoric. i felt free. i glanced down and realized there were seals swimming and splashing around and that only added to my happiness. 

it was one of those dreams that stayed with me (in a good way) after i woke up. when i finally got myself out of bed, i felt a little buoyant. the last seven days haven't been in the best in my life, so it was a relief to feel something other than anxious. despite the damp and dreary weather, i decided to go for a run outside, and while i ran i thought about taking pleasure in the little things.

last week my mom's best friend from high school, Nancy, had sent out a mass e-mail. her husband was diagnosed last fall with pancreatic cancer and she'd been keeping her family and friends updated via regular e-mails. as it almost always is with pancreatic cancer, the diagnosis was not hopeful. and while Nancy's e-mails were never filled with good news, she made sure to mention the things she was grateful for—this is one of Nancy's innate traits that i admire so much, her ability to always find the bright side. in last week's e-mail, she mentioned that her husband was currently resting in his recliner, listening to the birdsong, enjoying the sunlight streaming in through the window. and for that, she felt blessed—that he was still able to enjoy peaceful moments. 

i was thinking of that this morning, in the aftermath of my dream, and i was thinking of other small joys i've experienced recently. like last night: i stopped in the market for a few things on my way home and there was a song playing in the store that i'd never heard before but for some reason, standing in front of the frozen food section, my hips and shoulders were moving with the beat—almost without me realizing it. as i walked to the checkout i noticed three other people gazing at shelves or strolling through aisles also getting their groove on. it made me smile. on a chilly, rainy Monday night, people were dancing in Gourmet Fresh. 

one night last month i was on the F train and for some reason never put on my iPod. i had it with me and the battery wasn't dead, but i just never bothered to take it out of my bag—highly unusual. i found a seat and opened my book and at the first stop i heard the conductor's voice. somewhere in the back of my mind i noted that he sounded like the voice used on the monorails at Disney World. i felt a pang of comfort and happiness—i thought of my college program friends and how we used to imitate the Spanish version of the "stand clear of the closing doors" announcement and it made me smile. 

at the next stop on the F line, the conductor suddenly had a Scottish accent. at the next stop, he had an Indian accent. at the next, he was channeling Goodfellas. soon he started making comments in between stops. after we pulled out of the Second Avenue station, he said—conspiratorially—"aren't you glad we got rid of those people?" after another stop, he said in a public-service-announcement voice, "ladies and gentleman, it has been a long week for everyone. please try to overlook the olfactory offenses committed by your fellow riders." i and the other folks who weren't plugged into their iPods cracked up. literally every stop was a different accent, and the commentary in between was hilarious. 

it was so entertaining i was actually disappointed when it was time to get off the train (and, believe me, i never feel that way about the F train). 

so funny and strange, i thought afterward, that the one night i don't bother to put on my headphones i have one of those only-in-New-York experiences. i thought it was so cool that rather than mumbling or screaming at each stop (which many of them do) this conductor decided to have fun, enjoy his job, make otherwise miserable passengers smile. 

i was thinking about all of this as i ran this morning and thought maybe it was worthy of a blog. i think people like Nancy are generally happier in their lives, no matter what else is going on, because they're not bogged down by life's bad breaks. can't think of a better way to live. 

then i got to work and saw that there was an e-mail from Nancy. her husband, she wrote, passed away peacefully Monday afternoon. she said she was incredibly sad but also thankful that he was in no pain when he died. and she was so grateful to everyone in her life, for their thoughts and prayers during the whole experience. 

my eyes filled up as i read the message. life is just that way, isn't it? it was a deeply sad, all-too-real reminder to enjoy the little things, to find joy in what you can, to slow down sometimes for god's sake. 

life is too fleeting and precious not to. 

mb