To All Graduates, some skittles wisdom

I attended a friend’s graduation this Wednesday, and it brought back memories. Memories of my own graduation. You know, the one that I never attended. That’s right. When it finally came down to the end of college torture I said ‘I am not attending any ceremonies, I am not celebrating the times together, give me my diploma, and I want nothing to do with you people.’ It’s hard to point out what exactly I hated about college. Because it was more like everything. It could be related to the fact that I was working full time, and taking classes full time, and bitching about both of these, also full time.


Just so you understand, about a year later after I graduated, I still had nightmares that they took my diploma away due to missing credits. And then forced into a shameful, naked walk through the streets. Because that’s just how nightmares work.


I went to Baruch College, and it’s a City University of New York. And what this means is I saved  a shit load of money by avoiding going to private college, but this also means that I sometimes had classes with 10,000 people in them, and a tiny professor in a faraway distance. In other words, it was not really a place that molded you into an individual ready to take your rightful place in this world, but more like a place that made you feel like a raising sperm around other raising sperms that we all once were. Took you to prehistoric times so to speak. Maybe that was the idea. In that case, flawless execution.


I picked my major as Finance, and regretted it about half way in, but had too many credits tied into it, so switching was not an option. Or actually it was very much an option that a lot of people exercised, but those were probably lunatics. That is, lunatics who lived with their parents, and had all the time in the world to ‘discover themselves’. And I truly hope they achieved their discovery process through some extra papers, presentations, and romantic nights staring at unfinished home works.


It wasn’t all bad, and I did have interesting classes that I enjoyed. Sort of. I had a history class and it was about World War II and it was taught by a German professor, who was really German looking too: massively built, blond, with a swastika on his arm. He didn’t have swastika, but I found the whole situation a tad bit ironic. I had a marketing class with a professor who refused to own a cell phone. Let me repeat, a marketing teacher that didn’t believe in technology. I’m sure his life worked out well. I had a finance professor, who lost a lot of money in stocks, and thus was forced to teach. Talk about role models. And finally, I had an english language professor, who gave me thesaurus book as a present. Like for free. I’m sure she was implying that my vocabulary sucks, but who doesn’t love free stuff.


And I do have to admit that acquired knowledge helps me in life still. I was hoping I’ll graduate, won’t use a tiny bit of information, and be like ‘Ha! It was all a scam, I knew it!’ But dammit that’s not the case. But I’m admitting this like only once.


So if you’re a graduate either current, or a long gone one, go on and celebrate the shit out of it. And to quote one of my favorite professors, and his phrase that I remember, and frequently use till this day ‘well, if anything, skittles are made out of rainbow’.


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