The Original Sunscreen

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '99

Wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it.

The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth.

Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded.

But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now 
how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about paying your student loans.

Or worry, but know that worrying will not pay one cent of interest.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that holds 
you up in a dark alley and takes all your money.

Once a month, dress up as a member of the opposite sex.

Sing. Vietnamese karaoke.

Be reckless with other people's money.

Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Don't spend half your life in the computer cluster.

If you do, shower once in a while.

Sometimes you're behind, sometimes you're way behind.

The race is long and, in the end, no one will care if you take the taxi.

Remember compliments you receive. Get them in writing.

When you become rich and famous, don't forget me.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away Publishers' Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.

Comb.

Don't feel guilty if you're twenty-two and still don't have a girlfriend.

The most intelligent people I know didn't have a girlfriend when they were 22.

Some of the most intelligent 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of caffeine.

Maybe you'll marry.  But I think you won't.

Maybe you'll have children.  I hope they don't look like you.

Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll still be the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary.

Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either.  That's VSA's job.

Your choices are half chance. Random guessing is as good as any.

Enjoy your computer.

Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid to upgrade it every month when a faster processor comes out.

It's the only friend you'll ever have.

Dance.  Learn the ChaChaCha, or you'll be dancing by yourself at VSA parties.

Eat instant noodle. It will save you a lot of money later on.

Better yet, get cup o'noodle and forget about doing the dishes.

Get to know your parents. You'll need them to repay your student loans.

Be nice to your siblings. They may know every single damaging secret you have.

Understand that friends come and go, but hang on to a precious few that owe you money.

Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the 
people from whom you can borrow money.

Study at Harvard once, but leave before the MITVSA elders hunt you down.  And kill you.

Study at U of Alabama once, but leave before you start speaking Vietnamese with a Southern accent.

Accept certain inalienable truths:

The guests will always be late. Catered food will be cold. The skits will be lame.

You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that at your VSA Senior Dinner, the guests were 
on time, the food was good, and the skits were funny.

Respect your VSA elders.

Don't expect them to be nice to you.

Maybe you have a car. Maybe you'll have a lot of free time. But don't let the VSA know, or you’ll be 
elected president.

Don't miss Anh VA's Vietnamese class, or when you're 40, you'll still speak Vietnamese as when you were 5.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but very careful with those that come from the VSA.

Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, 
painting over the ugly parts and using it to fill in the time for this Senior Dinner.

But trust me on the sunscreen.