advice from a mediocre student (my pretend graduation speech from a dream last night)

Hello. My name is Kasey Grau Jackson, and I’m a storyteller.

I’ve lost track of how many years it’s been since I started writing speeches for other people. Today, I figured it’s time I deliver my own. What the hell. Live a little. Here we are.

It’s a beautiful sunny day, isn’t it? And here I am, on a pop-up stage in front of all of you — a sea of shiny, happy faces.

You guys are totally oblivious, aren’t you? You have absolutely no idea. You’re all high on energy drinks and life and, for a few of you, somewhat-illegal substances, I’m sure. I can tell some of you are giddy. Some of you are relieved. And yep. Just as I thought. Many of you look downright stupefied. That’s normal. I get it. I completely understand.

But you really don’t get it. Not yet, anyway.

Life is about to happen to you in ways you never dreamed. And it’s all because of you.

And for that reason, we’re here to celebrate you.

So congratulations to each and every one of you. You’ve done it. And congratulations to every one of your family members and friends who are in the crowd tonight and even to those who couldn’t make it. They were your support system and they deserve a round of applause. Shall we?

You’re the latest class of graduates at one of those colleges people like to tell themselves they could’ve gotten into if they actually tried or wanted to. Seriously. This is like a postcard, isn’t it? And you got to live here. Breathe the air here. LEARN here. This is an unbelievable moment, right now. Here we are.

Better yet, here you are. You did all the work. I’m just up here to tell you it’s over. Or it’s just beginning. Or all of the above.

I, myself, went to a much less manicured — but let’s be honest, no less fun — university where I had all the chances to succeed and chose to take the path of least resistance. I can tell you this now, because you’re done. I wouldn’t want to give you the impression that such low standards are okay to set before you were finished. That would be ludicrous. But now, I can be honest. Because you’re graduates now. Or at least you will be once I finish this speech and you flip your tassels. For me, well, I could’ve done much better in my college years. I could’ve studied and gone to class. That would’ve been a start. It probably would’ve helped. Alas.

So for me to be the one standing before you today has left me a bit gobsmacked, to say the least. But hey. Here we are.

I want to share a story with you. I am, after all, a storyteller.

You and I have something in common.

I might be old enough to be your mother or even grandmother, but we still have something in common.

And that is … we are graduates.

We put our minds to something and we did the work and we made it happen.

You’re going to find there will be days you don’t want to do any more work. There will be countless days that you question the work.

Keep going.

Ask the questions. Push yourself. And if you do nothing else, be uncomfortable.

As soon as you feel like life is comfortable and you’re cruising, set a new goal. Run like hell. Because it’s not living if it’s easy. And you need to kick yourself in the butt right then and there and learn something. Do something. Make change happen. Be bold and creative. Be loud. Be the you you always wanted to be.

Because you’re graduates.

And while I didn’t do my best when I was just starting college, I eventually came around and figured it out. I ended up becoming a journalist, just as my eighth-grade self knew I needed to be. It turns out I was doing the work all along, since pre-teen years. I just didn’t know it. That work would lead me, eventually, to this stage right now, in front of you, via several jobs in newspapers and magazines and nonprofits and the government. My path took me to 20 countries, where I was able to document mission-driven projects that changed the lives of countless people all over the world. I’ve met dignitaries and celebrities and can tell you about the time Jamie Leigh Curtis grabbed my arm and squeezed it and called me “Pittsburgh.” I can tell you about the time my passport took a ride of its own from Geneva, Switzerland, to Paris and back again without me. I guess it was longing for its own adventure.

Just as many of you are, right now, longing for adventure.

And it’s about to begin.

Congratulations to you for sticking with it. For setting a goal and meeting it. For hanging in there when it seemed like the world was falling in.

You did it. And now you will go out into the world and do it all again.

And you will promise me to be uncomfortable while doing it.

Thank you.