To the class of lucky 2013…In addition to this being a strange and dreamy time in your life, it is also, as you know, a very strange moment in the life of the culture. As we’ve talked about plenty in our various classes, the temptation to construct a tidy and flawless--and phony-- self, both online and off, is an everyday siren song for you in a way that it never was for, say, me and my graduating classmates in the 1980s. Back then, constructing a self was pretty straightforward: you were either freaky-or geeky-or maybe a jock. And we were so much less cool than you are-- with our mullets, feathered bangs, payphones, legwarmers, and Ronald Reagan. True-- we also had Metallica, The Clash, The Pixies, and Nintendo. But I digress. We weren’t as cool as you. Trust me on that. And unlike you, we had to pretty much stake out a persona and stick with it.
But these days, you can be- or seem to be- almost anyone you want. You can carefully curate the self you share with the world, adjusting and tweaking until you get it just so. You can embrace nuance and paradox in your identity. You might be a little freak, with a dash of geek. You can like heavy metal and High School Musical. You can cut class, be on crew, AND be vegan. You can sing acapella in a boys’ choir, play football, and recite William Blake.
You can-- in other words-- keep them guessing.
The somewhat dicey part of all this is that this plugged-in world of endlessly curating the self can seduce you into thinking of yourself as a version of yourself—instead of your Self. Put plainly, the opportunity to b.s. our way through—and to be b..s’d by others—is huge. And it threatens to make cynics out of us all. As Lisa Simpson laments to Bart about a poseur frenemy: “I’m exactly the kind of kid he’s pretending to be.”
So what can we do to avoid this exhausting pretending? It seems to me that a good antidote is to not just lead with your confusion and imperfection, but to treasure your confusion and imperfection. And to be a bit suspicious of anyone who seems just a little too sure of themselves.
The way I see it, wonderful and quirky class of 2013, it is your imperfection, and your not knowing, that are your true superpowers. This is what we love about you. It’s what we hope you love best about yourself.
So, when in doubt, go with “I don’t know”….Treasure the paradox that is the hallmark of most important things: That life can be difficult and beautiful. Relationships heal us and knock us to the ground. Technology can connect us, and make us feel really lonely. High school was the worst, and it…maybe wasn’t so bad.
Whatever you do, just keep them- and yourself- guessing. Wear a kaftan, a tie, and some moccasins. Well-- actually you already do that. How about this: wear a polo shirt and cordoroys! And loafers! If you’re on the baseball team, trade clothes with Jake. Jake—wear a baseball uniform!
You can’t be all things to all people, it’s true—but you already are a lot of things, class of 2013. You are scholars and layabouts, unreasonable and mature, kind and hardworking and worried and relaxed and melancholy and happy. You’re a freak and a geek and a beauty queen and a dancing queen and a rock star and an extrovert and a wallflower. You’re 13 years old, and 18, and you’re also 45. You are humble and loveable and full of chutzpah and moxie. Thank you for keeping me guessing. I love all of you-- and all of your pieces- -to pieces.
Now, as Lisa Simpson also said, “Prepare to take an incredible journey across the room….”
You can-- in other words-- keep them guessing.
The somewhat dicey part of all this is that this plugged-in world of endlessly curating the self can seduce you into thinking of yourself as a version of yourself—instead of your Self. Put plainly, the opportunity to b.s. our way through—and to be b..s’d by others—is huge. And it threatens to make cynics out of us all. As Lisa Simpson laments to Bart about a poseur frenemy: “I’m exactly the kind of kid he’s pretending to be.”
So what can we do to avoid this exhausting pretending? It seems to me that a good antidote is to not just lead with your confusion and imperfection, but to treasure your confusion and imperfection. And to be a bit suspicious of anyone who seems just a little too sure of themselves.
The way I see it, wonderful and quirky class of 2013, it is your imperfection, and your not knowing, that are your true superpowers. This is what we love about you. It’s what we hope you love best about yourself.
So, when in doubt, go with “I don’t know”….Treasure the paradox that is the hallmark of most important things: That life can be difficult and beautiful. Relationships heal us and knock us to the ground. Technology can connect us, and make us feel really lonely. High school was the worst, and it…maybe wasn’t so bad.
Whatever you do, just keep them- and yourself- guessing. Wear a kaftan, a tie, and some moccasins. Well-- actually you already do that. How about this: wear a polo shirt and cordoroys! And loafers! If you’re on the baseball team, trade clothes with Jake. Jake—wear a baseball uniform!
You can’t be all things to all people, it’s true—but you already are a lot of things, class of 2013. You are scholars and layabouts, unreasonable and mature, kind and hardworking and worried and relaxed and melancholy and happy. You’re a freak and a geek and a beauty queen and a dancing queen and a rock star and an extrovert and a wallflower. You’re 13 years old, and 18, and you’re also 45. You are humble and loveable and full of chutzpah and moxie. Thank you for keeping me guessing. I love all of you-- and all of your pieces- -to pieces.
Now, as Lisa Simpson also said, “Prepare to take an incredible journey across the room….”
No comments:
Post a Comment