Episode Details

This is less of a speech, more of a pep talk, and really — just some reflections from someone coming up on their 10-year college reunion who feels like graduation was just yesterday.

Instead of picturing me on a podium in regalia, let’s pretend I’m sitting next to you on the floor of your dorm as you pack up your things, or sitting across from you at brunch after graduation, or in the backseat of the car on your drive back home, or wherever life is taking you next post-college.

To the Class of 2026,

The day after I graduated from college, I didn’t get out of bed until 5 PM.

I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t watching TV.

I barely texted anyone. I was just scrolling through my Instagram feed and well…lying there completely exhausted.

The only reason I got up was to get dinner at a pizza place that no longer exists with a friend I stopped talking to a few years later.

It would probably shock my 22-year-old self to read these words, about losing touch with that friend, not the pizza place closing.

As a native New Yorker, I’m all too familiar with favorite restaurants, coffee shops, and bookstores closing down. My favorite Barnes and Noble on 86th and Lex is now a Target. The benches by the magazine section where I spent countless hours pouring through glossy pages, have now been replaced with a homeware section.

I once leafed through a magazine in that very Barnes and Noble, with a cover highlighting a Hollywood actress and her “hard-won happiness.” That phrase always stuck with me.

At the time, I probably didn’t have the self-awareness to admit I was far from truly happy. I did know that I liked the idea of describing happiness as “hard-won.” Those two words made me feel instantly seen and validated, as someone who used to secretly roll her eyes when people talked about waking up happy in the morning, with an easy-breezy feeling that I was convinced only exists in fairy tales.

The summer after graduation, I moved to Portland for an acting program, hated it, and came back to New York with no idea what I was going to do next. I eventually landed a role in an incredible new play at La MaMa, after originally inquiring about being the stage manager’s assistant. It was an amazing experience. I was featured in the New York Times. Everything was going according to plan.

But it turns out, I didn’t love the life of a working actor as much as I thought I would. I started working as a temp receptionist at many Manhattan offices and ended up writing a play while at my desk.

I wouldn’t realize that I wanted to be a playwright for a few more years, though. I spent too much money doing things I didn’t enjoy, with people I didn’t have a lot in common with, trying to keep up with the “New York scene.” I look back, and I really don’t like what those “friends” brought out in me, but if you’d asked me at the time, I would have told you that I had a great community. I constantly hustled for my self-worth, and was so busy trying to prove myself to everyone that I could barely enjoy success when it came.

I co-directed the same play that I starred in as a fourth grader at my elementary school (Charlotte’s Web) and found more joy working with kids than I’d had in years - even though if I knew I wasn’t meant to be a teacher long-term. Those kids are now in high school, close to entering college themselves (which feels impossible, because they were 9 and learning how to spell just yesterday).(I’m 31, and I still feel like I’m learning how to spell.)

We used to dance across the floor to this song called Shine during warm-ups, in a dance class I took in college. I’ve loved it ever since. It goes,

Here's where you lose your mind

The water here's divine

You're doing just fine

So, come on, darling