Graduation speeches are all the same. Some jokes are cracked about the gaping generation gap between the speaker and their audience, there’s a lot of talk about responsibility, and usually a firm reminder of the obligations graduates have to clean up the mess made by the last generation. Invariably (but especially this year) they’ve royally effed everything up but are relying on us to take care of them in their old age progress.

I graduated from journalism school in 2009, and my university commencement speech was a real downer.

Many of my friends graduated from college in recent weeks and are now making their begrudging debuts into The Real World. I can’t hope to offer words of equal wisdom to that fake Kurt Vonnegut commencement address: “Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.” Nor can I hope to rank with the Dazed and Confused monologue delivered by meathead Don Dawson: “All I'm saying is that I want to look back and say that I did the best I could while I was stuck in this place. Had as much fun as I could while I was stuck in this place. Played as hard as I could while I was stuck in this place.”

But here’s the post-college advice I wish I’d gotten.

Don’t feel bad for not knowing what you want to be when you grow up, or for not already being in pursuit of your next degree. Having it together is for people with little imagination.

Life’s too short to stay in a job you don’t like. Don’t let fear keep you there — there’s no such thing as job security, anyway. As my mom (someone you'll never grow out of) puts it, “leap, and the net will appear.”

It’s OK to be a mess, to stay at happy hour after the specials end and to have no prospects for either marriage or promotion. You’re the envy of those that do.

Save as much money as possible. Compound interest is a magical, mystical thing.

Spend what you don’t save. You can’t take it with you.

Don’t be afraid to join an organization, see a movie, or live by yourself. Soon our kids will have kids, and we'll wish we had our own popcorn bucket.

Move out (eventually). It doesn’t matter how much you save living back home, it’s not worth your sanity. Get your own place. You’re not a real grown-up until you do.

And don’t worry — those weren’t the best years of your life. Now you’ve got money, independence and no fucking clue what you’re doing. Making friends should be easy.