Life Lessons as Learned by a Neurotic, Fifth-Year, Transfer Student

I have now been in college for about half a decade and graduation still alludes me.  This is perhaps most upsetting for my father, who towards the end of each semester asks where his graduation invitation is.

I began my college career at Central Michigan University and after two years transferred to MSU.  In East Lansing I live a mere seven minutes from where I grew up.  I’ve been a townie; I’ve lived with my parents (for as absolutely brief as possible).  I’ve lived with friends from high school, went in blind to the dorms, lived with boys.  

At Central I was in a sorority.  At MSU I took a semester off.  I’ve been a double major, triple minor, and now I’m down to just one of each.  I’ve had a perfect 4.0 and I’ve failed classes.  I’ve pretty much ran the gamut of collegiate experiences.

This segment in no way is meant to suggest that I know everything- in fact it’s probably just the opposite.  In a lot of ways I began college knowing basically nothing about myself, what I value and how to balance all the roles an 18-24 year old can find themselves in.

Now 22, I wouldn’t quite say I’ve figured out who I am but I’ve definitely learned who I’m not.  I’ve started to realize that part of growing up is active self-reflection.  Even if your behavior or thought processes don’t change right away acknowledging what you’ve gained from an experience at least makes it valuable- even if it was initially awful. 

I don’t know everything but there are a few key nuggets of wisdom that I’ve acquired over the past few years.  Not to suggest that I actually emulate these lessons all the time- that, to those that know me, will become quite obvious after reading the first one.

While this life lesson is one I’ve learned, its probably one of the hardest to put into action.

            Nothing good happens after 2 am. 

            Nothing. 

 You’re free style rap skills aren’t what you think they are.  Long boarding down a busy road is not suddenly safer because there are like, probably less cars out, like probably.  And no, there could not be a worse time to drink that liter of red wine you have at home.

The group sing-along at Rice Kitchen you’re conducting is not really a group sing-along; video evidence will verify this later on.  Anything posted on Facebook will only require a deceleration of your drunkenness later on- if it wasn’t already one in and of itself.

The police officer on a horse does not want to pose for a picture with you.  Despite the resounding confusion as to why the officer is on a horse in the first place after the bar closes is not the time to unmask this issue.  While yes, its puzzling why tax dollars fund the domestication of said beasts (only so they can seemingly poop every 4 to 5 feet) a drunk and disorderly ticket isn’t nearly as fun once you sober up.  Or so I hear. 

On the magical night that is daylight savings, some bars will stay open that extra 1 to 2 o’clock hour that I initially viewed as a blessing.  But not the one I work at.  Perplexed, upon further inquiry my exceptionally wise boss explained one of the truest pieces of advice I’ve received- nothing good happens after 2 am.  Nothing.

Perhaps earth-shattering bad things won’t happen.  Perhaps you’ll actually have a ton of fun.  Sure, possible.  Guaranteed?  Absolutely not.

At this point in the early morning hours is it worth staying out even later?  Not likely.  To get more intoxicated?  Spend more money?  Do MORE stupid things?  While I don’t have statistical evidence to back this up, I’d say it’s almost certain that most egotistical injuries are sustained between the hours of 2 and 5 am. 

The reality is at this point at night you’re not going to miss out on much of anything.  In fact, you’re probably saving yourself from something dumb in the long run. 

After 2 am, you probably should just go home.  You didn’t finally find your soul mate on the dance floor at Ricks.  No, you did not just meet your future husband at Menna’s.

And after you make it home, put yourself to bed.

Ordering $42 worth of Pizza House for you and your one roommate at 3:53 am is not a worthwhile expenditure.  

If after 2 am, you’re privileged enough to still know where your cell phone is, whole-heartedly resist the urge to use it.  Rarely- if ever, will you wake up pleased with the manner in which you conveyed your emotions and overly strong opinions.

Rereading (although it’s been known to feel like the first reading) the litany of text messages sent from your phone the night before can extend the pain of a hangover from one day to the next, when the fortunate recipient returns the favor. 

Go home. 

Go to bed.