This is Kurt Vonnegut’s commencement address to the MIT’s graduating class of 1997, which was never addressed to the MIT graduating class of 1997 and never authored in any way by Kurt Vonnegut.
Mary Schmich’s satirical bit for the Chicago Tribune is remarkable not for being one of the most prominent mass hoaxes of the early Internet. Not even for nailing the Vonnegut down to the comma (the viral hoax is evidence Mary did an epic job of it).
It strikes me for two reasons. First, for being (surreptitiously) cognizant of so many life-altering things young men and women are often ignorant of. Second, for the subtle differences in detail between Mary’s work and a hypothetical equivalent written by a man (including Kurt himself). Differences in both substance and presentation.
I will not break this down line by line because it has to be interesting in order to be good teaching. Instead, I will focus on something from my personal experience, which ought to give a cue to the men and women amongst you, including my Russian bot followers. (It won’t help much if you are a dining table or a hovercraft.)
There are two huge challenges with the book I’m writing at the moment. One is that it is a “program” book: it must break your brain so bad that you be able to write back on it anything you want despite your earlier assumptions. The second – and much greater challenge – is that I want the book to accomplish this in equal measure with both men and women.
For the second reason, I put even more effort than before into grasping how women experience the world and how the world experiences them. One longtime observation of mine, which has become especially acute lately, is how oblivious young women are of what will happen to them as they age (this is, like so many troubles of youth, mostly due to parental ignorance and weakling pussyfooting around helping children understand how people operate).
Individual society in its actions (regardless of politically correct diktats) still considers young women precious and treats young men as dispensable cannon fodder. So, if you are a young woman and not utterly repulsive in manners and appearance, your relations with people are probably going much more smoothly than after you get past the four handle.
Because of my way of life, I’m surrounded by attractive young women and constantly entertained by the way they approach me (frequently as a stranger) and just ask for stuff. I adore people with courage and usually the requests are perfectly reasonable so I’m more than happy to provide. What makes it hard to contain my laughter is the observable expectation – indeed, assumption – on their part that they will be “serviced” just like that. I don’t want to imagine the sadness and crisis and confusion of these women when they get even 10 years older. I’m often tempted to do some teaching to soften that blow – and help them enjoy/take advantage of their youth more – but most of the time that ends up falling on deaf eyes and blind ears. As Mary would say: “advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young”. (I have skin in the game because I can’t feel good when the women around me don’t.)
The faux speech is also instructive because of how experiential it is. Mary’s voice is firm and authentic, albeit faceitious, because she had skin in the game, if not enough sunscreen. The women amongst you will feel the mismatch between Mary’s words and the experience of what she is talking about. That mismatch has little to do with her wordsmithing, which is quite evocative. Authentic knowledge acquired through experience, as Mary herself suggests, can only be diluted by words, however powerful the communicator. Those of you who are familiar with the INCERTO will appreciate Mary’s authentic grasp of uncertainty and induction.
I was grown and bred by women, amongst women and for the pleasure and entertainment of women, so I’ve long wanted to do a women’s special which benefits all. Because we need – and want! – moar women active on the Twitter. This is a good place to begin, and I will be grateful if you find value in it.
To make the most of this bit, imagine what a man would have written differently in the subtle details of this “speech”. Find someone of the other gender, and compare yours with their prediction. Test yourself and each other. It might just blow your mind what you find out (or don’t) even before you read my book.
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ’97:
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.
Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you. Sing.
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room. Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them. Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders. Respect your elders.
Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
Follow me on Twitter @startupdaemon because that’s where things are happening.