There is never any certainty upon graduation. It is the moment just before the vending machine dispenses your purchase. Sometimes you get exactly what you planned. Other times you get something entirely different. Cheeze-its instead of Pop-Tarts, for example. And every once in while, you get a two-fer, when the vending machine gods see fit to give you two times the treat you wanted for yourself. Then, the abundance overflows and you can share with the person next to you. I don’t know which of these scenarios are before you. I know I graduated with an English degree, big dreams of working in the arts or sharing my writing with an appreciative world, and instead, within six months, I was somehow working as a Kelly Temp in the finance department of a retail department store. It was definitely not what I thought I ordered. But, my education served me well. My skills, talents and work ethic remain unchanged. Eventually – and it didn’t take as long as I thought it would – I was editing and writing for art, science, and business magazines (applying math skills I had anticipated would be useless in “real life”) and pursuing the same dreams that had always driven me. Your hunger, your dreams, your willingness to chase that better, more noble thing… that doesn’t begin or get satisfied with a diploma or a ceremony. I can barely remember when my own passion for reading and writing began; it was just part of me and it certainly hasn’t ended 25-plus years after graduation. The only thing I really remember about college graduation are the weather – it was gorgeous – and bursting into tears when I saw my Dad at the end. I hugged him, I hugged my Mom and that’s it. There are some photos of a party afterward I occasionally look at but they don’t spark the deep feelings of that cry fit and that hug. I’m sorry you won’t experience a beautiful day and a lovely party. I’m sorry you don’t know what comes next. But remember, no one really does. Know the people you love with all your heart when you see them. Cry with and cry for them. Hold them and love them always. You’re a Hoya forever. That’s certain.
Kristen D., 1994