I have a complicated relationship with my alma mater. If I could talk to high school me, I would shake her by the shoulders and say, “you are making a mistake! Don’t try so hard to be taken seriously; don’t choose a school where much of what you will care about will be treated as a punch line. Go to a women’s college! Major in English! And if you must make this mistake, don’t befriend a bunch of neo-con assholes, don’t trust your roommate, and don’t try to drink (you’re missing whatever enzyme, you’ll never ever be drunk, and you’ll be better for it).
Do not be jealous when your awful college boyfriend introduces you to his friend Elizabeth. Do not ignore your awful college boyfriend’s neighbor, Josh. Stop talking to that loser, immediately. Stop talking to everyone in your dorm.
Use every minute of friendship you can with Elizabeth and Josh because you will spend the coming years missing them, always. You will never be the ‘smart one’ or the ‘funny one,’ but that is okay, because that means you’ll always be having the best time, and it’s a lot of pressure, anyway. You will regret almost all of the choices you made for yourself in college, and you will have such a list of resentments, but high on that list will always be waiting too long to realize that Elizabeth and Josh are going to be your forever friends. So if you must choose the wrong college, find the best people.”
Last weekend, Elizabeth and Josh came to visit. We sat in the sun, watched the Veronica Mars movie, and ate too many doughnuts for breakfast. I skipped my college reunion last year because a) too soon, please, b) I am never sleeping in a dorm bed again, and c) this was way, way better. Oh! and a special shoutout to Joe, Elizabeth’s friend from high school, and all-around cool guy, who can now confirm to his mother that Watson is just as fluffy as he appears on the internet.