In the work-a-day world (to which I am painfully adjusting), it's easy to become self-involved. One must position himself for success, establish friendships for the sake of moving up and curate a style that will demonstrate one's panache, intelligence and compliance to dress codes policies of, "Just look trendy." Operating under such pressure can result in questionable, selfish behavior like swiping your neighbor's bottle of Gray Goose and DSL password whilst house-sitting, hooking up with a competing coworker only to expose him and have his position terminated, or offering to "edit" like-minded friends' resumes (all hypothetical situations). After a certain point, self-interest and sabotage seem to go hand in hand, and it becomes easy to lose one's sense of self. When happy hour conversations never go beyond suffering the obsession of multiple stalkers or schemes of getting parents to unload their convertible, it's time to take a step back and ask, "What am I doing to contribute?" At an age when the phrase "giving back" is more easily related to sexual courtesy than community service, keeping one's feet on the ground is difficult.

No doubt, the second scariest "V"-word is volunteering. In high school, I volunteered at luxury retirement community Bayou Manor, reciting numbers at Saturday afternoon bingo games. If I were particularly bored, I would speak in an English accent, which always earned more tips. I bought my first iPod with the cash that I earned "volunteering" during my senior year.