Tony Wilson: 'That was my advice on happiness, so here’s my advice on misery', Penleigh & Essendon Grammar School - 2000

17 October, 2000, Moonee Valley Racecourse, Melbourne, Australia

Ladies and gentleman, graduating students, PEGs staff, and last but not least, Moonee Valley punters who have stumbled into the function by accident and have no idea what’s going on

On my last day at school, I became the second person in the history of Camberwell Grammar to be sent home for an inappropriate costume. The first instance occurred in 1988 when a guy arrived wearing Rambo style fatigues, a semi automatic and live ammunition. He didn’t actually fire any rounds, and I’m not sure anyone could find a specific school rule dealing with semi-automatics, but the police were nevertheless called, and he was sent on his way.

When I was giving my marching orders two years later, it was for the lesser offense of smelling of rotten fish. My mother, who has a nasty habit of over-enthusing in the task of dressing up any of her children, decided that the costume for me was the polar bear suit. So while half the year was out enjoying a big night on the town, Mum and I sat at home together, drawing claws on my ug boots, sowing my sister’s old 'lambie' to the front of Dad’s white pyjamas, and attaching a dead thirteen pound cod to the end of a homemade fishing rod.

In the cool of the morning, my cod was an enormous hit, accompanying me in all the flour throwing and water fights. But as the day warmed up, both me and the fish started to smell worse and worse, until I was told at lunchtime that I should make a trip home to de-fish. 

The dressing up era at my old school has now ended, the headmaster obviously deciding that if the day was generating problems as diverse as live ammunition and dead fish, it was time to reassess. Actually, the official reason that was given when they banned dressing up was said to be that too many Camberwell Grammar boys were dressing up as women, a fact that no doubt confirms a lot of suspicions you all might harbour about my old school.

Today, it’s been your turn to dress up for a last day at school, and I’m sure there will be some aspect of it that stays with you always. Just as everyone should have a memory of their first day of school (mine is that my red-haired prep teacher who was called Mrs Wolf introduced herself via a game of ‘What’s the Time Mrs Wolf’) well we should similarly have a memory of the day it all comes to an end. As for everything that has been learned in the days in between, it’s helpful to have some retention there too. Particularly when it comes to the small matter of the exams that are now just nine days and fourteen hours away.

I’m tempted to just start counting the minutes and seconds down as well to see if those of you who are a bit edgy make a panicked bolt for the library. The fact is that of all the countdowns you’ve no doubt been conducting over the last weeks and months, the exam one is the most important of all. When you go home tonight, you’ll be in the nightmare they call swot-vac, and I’m sure you all can’t wait to grab your alarm clocks, set them to 6.58, and bang out that first practice exam before breakfast tomorrow.

The trick with swot-vac is to have a realistic study timetable that you stick to, no matter what other temptations beckon. Actually one of the first temptations you’ll discover is to spend so much time on the timetable that you waste half of swot-vac drawing it up. Colour coding each subject. Drawing and re-drawing the lines to make sure that they’re straight. My timetable was a work of art, but it was also very important in keeping me to my targets of 10-hour study days.

As a freelance writer, I also face the procrastination demons on a daily basis. A basic guide is that if you find yourself watching any two of Totally Wild, Fresh Prince of Bel Air or Mrs Mangle era Neighbours, you’ve got yourself a problem. You don’t want to be sitting there in an Australian history exam, laboring over the names of our wartime prime ministers but knowing the Fresh Prince’s pick up lines word for word.

In year twelve and at uni, another great procrastination device for me was taking showers. Sometimes I’d have 5-6 showers a day and when I wasn’t taking showers I’d be brushing my teeth. After all, can’t be too clean. Wouldn’t want my practice exam paper to think that I’ve got body odour or bad breath.

It is worth a bit of pain now though. Just think, a few weeks of hard work, and then you get to do bugger all for months. And every time a parent tells you to go out and do something, you can just say, ‘But Muuuum, Daaaaad, for months I didn’t go out. I didn’t watch the Fresh Prince -- can’t I have a rest noooow?’

Those of you with soft parents can probably get away with this for several months. Those of you with tough parents, you’ve probably still got a couple of weeks, and then you can start crashing at the houses of your friends who have soft parents. The trick is to get the hard work part out of the way now, so you’ve got a few bargaining chips up your sleeve when heaven descends, sometime in November.

There is a temptation to look at the upcoming exams and regard them as either life making or life breaking in their outcome. Of course they’re important. If you get a TER high enough to gain entry to the course you want, it’s a terrific advantage. But for those who are worriedthey’ll become instant and permanent failures on results day in December, it’s just not the case.

The fact is that you can’t be a failure at eighteen, because there’s just so much time and opportunity left to find something at which you can be a success. Ten years after leaving Camberwell, I look around my group of friends from school and see one who dropped out in year eleven who is now doing well in golf course management on the Gold Coast. Another wanted to be a lawyer, but now runs a successful billboard business in India.  Another tried for years to be accepted into vet science, only to last year find a position in Cameroon as the head of a wildlife park.

As for myself, at school, I had only two goals in life. One was to represent Australia in basically any sport that would have me, and the other was to play league football for Hawthorn in the AFL. It quickly emerged that football was probably my best chance, and I became fanatically obsessed with it.  At the age of fifteen, when some classmates were embarking upon romantic relationships, I was still sleeping with a Sherrin. When they were out on their dates, I’d stay home listening to the radio, writing down the kicks, marks and handballs for every player in the Hawthorn side.

Actually the last time I was at PEGS was in 1990 -- one of the memorable days of my football career, when I captained the Camberwell First XVIII to a five point win over your team. I’m pretty sure we haven’t beaten you since that day and we may never beat you again, so what I thought I’d do from here is give you a twenty minute, kick by kick summary of the game as it unfolded. I might even insert the odd detail that didn’t actually happen, like that moment late in the last quarter when I took a big hanger on Dustin Fletcher’s head. Or was it Scott West’s, I can’t remember. Although I did have 26 marks that day. I'm worried you think I'm joking. Stop laughing please. Damn that boastful hyperbole from earlier on! I need my credibility back! If you take nothing else away from this -- 26 marks.

Eventually, I made it through to the under 19s, then I captained the under 19s, and then finally in 1992, I was drafted onto the Hawthorn senior list.

The first inkling I had as to the fact that I was pursuing the wrong career came after the players’ skit night. I’d played five pretty uninspiring reserves games to that time, and when fan mail was being handed out, it rarely made it to ‘hack corner’ which is what the good players called the lockers numbered higher than 40 (John Platten was our union rep). But the week after the skit night, to the amazement of the entire club, I received some fan mail. I’ve still got it, and I’ll read it to you now.

Dear Tony Wilson

I’ve never seen you play or heard of you, but I thought that Colliwobbles song you sung with Austin McCrabb on Saturday was excellent. Not your singing so much, but the words -  which reminded how much I hate Collingwood. Keep up the good work.

Best wishes

Marcus

P.S. Can you send me a signed copy

It was my fifth ever autograph, the first four coming one night when I was talking in the car park next to Dermott Brereton, and he made some kids get my autograph as well. As for the song, I wrote it in 1990 during Year 12 swot-vac and it’s a lament for the fact that Collingwood finally won a Grand Final. Given tonight is the tenth anniversary of its existence, and it’s proof of the wonderful achievements you can pull off when you’re avoiding doing old maths exams, I thought I’d sing a verse to you guys. Actually the real reason I’m singing it is that one day, you guys might be running entertainment venues, and if you’re ever looking for a guy who can’t sing, and can’t play guitar … well here it goes:

A long long time ago I can still remember;

How the Magpies used to make me smile

And Dad and I would sing and dance

As the Pies stuffed up each finals chance

And lost each shot at glory with such style

But 1990 made me shiver, with every victory they delivered

Bad news on the doorstep, the woodsman had much more pep

I can’t remember if I cried, when I heard that they had made the five

But something kicked me deep inside, the day the Wobbles died.

... It goes for another 11 and a half minutes ...

Can you believe that when Madonna covered ‘American Pie’ this year, she went with Don McLean’s version and not mine?

But although I’d made history at the skit night by being the first footballer who didn’t dress up as a woman, things weren’t going quite so well on the field. In fact a few weeks later, reserves coach Des Meagher pulled me up in front of my teammates, pointed a finger into my chest and gave me the following piece of encouragement,

‘Willo, you can’t kick, you can’t handball, you can’t run … you can mark but you’re not even doing that at the moment.’

So it wasn’t that surprising when I was sacked, me vowing to Allan Joyce as I walked out the door that I would make him regret the decision for the rest of his life.

He hasn’t.

Fortunately, I had university to fall back on, a time of my life that was absolutely brilliant.  My parents had always told me really boring, long-winded anecdotes about uni being 'the best days of your life’ -- but until I got there, I didn’t really listen. Unlike school, it was relaxed -- no uniforms or disciplinarian teachers or kids in the tuckshop line who make a living out of asking everyone for 20 cents. At uni, I had just nudged into what should be known as my post-sleeping-with-a-Sherrin era, and I had my first real girlfriends.  I even got to go to Montreal in Canada for six months as an exchange student. In fact, so good were my five years as a student that I’m currently preparing a set of long-winded, boring anecdotes of my own to ram down the throats of any children I might have in the future.

It is however, possible to love being a uni student, but hate just about everything you’re studying. Unfortunately, that’s how it was with my course, which was law. If I had any guts, I would have quit to do a course that I actually liked. I didn’t though, and when I graduated in 1996, I blindly followed the other graduates into working at a law firm.

My time as a lawyer was just miserable. I joined Minter Ellison in 1996, and from my first day on the job, discovered that the glamorous life they painted in LA Law and A Few Good Men did not match the reality of leafing through 310 boxes of documents in a warehouse in Sunshine. Don’t be fooled by the way young lawyers are portrayed on television and in the movies. If they made a film about young lawyers at my firm they would have called it A Few Good Shit-kickers.

But despite my inexperience some big jobs did start coming my way. Like the day that a partner in my department arrived at my corral carrying a belt and a pair of gumboots. Yes, I was to be Santa Claus at the firm picnic, and you can imagine the pride I felt when he came back the following Monday and said I was ‘the best goddamn Father Christmas in the history of the firm.’

Then there was the articled clerks’ revue, performed for the firm at the mid-year ball. I was co-writer and director of the production, and even made my debut with a video camera, filming a piece we titled Twelve Angry Articled Clerks. This was a work of enormous emotional depth culminating in us all painting our faces blue, making a Braveheart style charge on photocopier, and smashing it with a sledgehammer. In another scene we stormed a rival law firm in chicken suits. In another, we pranced around the firm’s library naked, save for a strategically placed ‘Hot Stocks’ edition of the BRW.

By the middle of my second year at Minters, I was struggling with the fact that I’d never really found a goal to replace the league footy one. I toyed with the idea of doing some writing or amateur film-making, but didn’t really get off my backside. In fact I turned into one of those very annoying ‘guuna’ people. I was gunna write a screenplay, gunna write a book, gunna travel, gunna go to the bar, gunna leave to provide opportunities for younger, fresher Santas coming up through the ranks. I talked to people about my plans, until those people banned me from talking to them, at which point I found new people. Eventually, my father took me out for breakfast one morning at the Nudl Bar, and quietly suggested that if I was to consider myself a good writer, at some stage I should consider actually writing something. In fact we made a deal that morning -- he said he would help me with financing a travel writing trip, if I gave him a 25,000 word sample within 4 weeks of what he could expect. I took annual leave the next week, and started on my 25,000 words. They weren’t brilliant, but finally I was going for something that I actually enjoyed.

And then came the RMIT information evening that changed my life. In October 1997, a friend who knew about the travel book idea told me that the executive producer of RATW was holding a seminar.  For those who don’t know the show, it was a program on ABC that sent 8 people to 10 countries around the world over 100 days, with each person travelling alone and having to produce a four minute documentary for broadcast on the ABC. John Safran had made the show famous the year before by taking his clothes off and running through Jerusalem to the tune of Up There Cazaly. I loved the show and loved the seminar, and when he said, ‘Imagine you’re one of the thirteen selected finalists in Sydney’, I decided that I owed it to myself to apply. After all I’d paid $22 bucks to attend the lecture, and I wanted to get my money’s worth.

The greatest miracle of my life is that my application actually came off. The application video I sent in was about an Italian soccer coach called Paolo who coached the Essendon under sevens just down the road here with the zeal of a man who has his sights set on the World Cup. He gave them diets, he gave them tactics sessions, he abused them for not going to bed early enough. And all this was done through a translator, because Paulo himself couldn’t speak a word of English. Not only that but that translator was a mother of one of the boys, so Paulo would say something like ‘you’re all hopeless, it’s pointless coaching you’ and the translator would soften it to something like, ‘keep going, you’re doing really well.’ Basically, the topic was so good that I couldn’t really muck up the film, and after two months of interviews, and a 4 week documentary course at AFTRS in Sydney, I was selected for the show.

When I was attending my Year 12 dinner at the Malvern town hall in 1990, I could never have known that I’d be travelling to 10 countries in 100 days and making stories that would be shown on national television. A story on children in prison with their father in Bolivia, a cowboy poet in Idaho, the Italian version of Wheel of Fortune in Italy, the soccer World Cup in Paris, a laughing club in India.  Perhaps my favorite story was about a wheat farmer in Lebanon called Faeez, who couldn’t shoot pigs that were eating his crop because he was only 800 metres from the Israeli border, and the border guards would blow his head off if he went out in the fields with a gun. Indeed, as bombs thundered in the hills around us, Faeez told me to hide my camera tripod under my jumper, 'because Hazballah use tripods to launch rockets'. That was one of the truly exhilarating nights of my life. A sunset, a full moon, a tripod under my jumper, and a five kilometre walk down to the village, thinking all the while that I’d finally found the perfect career.

Not only that, but Race Around the World allowed me to achieve a childhood dream that I thought had passed me by. As I said before, I always fantasized about representing my country in international sport, and then, during my fourth story in Italy, it finally happened. I had the opportunity to lift this beautiful bronzed arm wrestling trophy above my head at the 1998 European Arm Wrestling championships. The tournament took place in Brescia, and as I understand it, I remain the only Australian to have ever competed. This is not good news for people trying to enhance Australia’s international reputation as an arm-wrestling power. My scorecard at the end of the tournament was four bouts in the 95 kilogram division for four, complete, motherless jelly-armed shellackings. One of my opponents from the Ukraine told me that I was the weakest opponent he had encountered in five years on the world tour. Still I had a professional arm-warming sock, and for a few brilliant seconds before each bout, I experienced the mad stare and scream that was so central to the Sylvester Stallone arm wrestling film, ‘Over the Top’. Not only that, despite my beatings the organisers handed out participation trophies to competitors from each of the countries represented at the championships. And so today, I am now the proud owner of one of these.

If I could give a single piece of advice on pursuing happiness, it would be to make sure you actually do pursue it. The unhappiest times I’ve had over the last ten years have been when I’ve let things drift, and not taken any positive steps. My success in getting to make stories around the world only came because I put four months into doing the best application I could at the end of 1997. Other friends of mine said they were going to do one, but in the end, the amount of work involved in finding and editing a story meant none of them did. I later found out that 18,000 people downloaded application forms for Race but didn’t send in applications. Again, the only reason I got to write articles at the Olympics was that I went into the Age offices and asked the Olympics editor if I could. Apply, apply, apply. You might think you don’t stand a chance, I certainly thought that with Race, but you definitely don’t stand a chance if you don’t apply.

That was my advice on happiness, so here’s my advice on misery. Endure swot-vac and work as hard as you can. Hard work does bring its rewards. As fun as my Race Around the World trip sounds, it was unbelievably stressful. In each place you had to find a story (which would take 2-3 days, film a story another 3 or so) and then write down all your shots and every word of every interview, so you could do an edit script, which was then sent back to Australia with the tapes. I reckon on average I worked about 14 hours a day, travelling alone and spending about as much on international phone calls as Paul Reith and his housemates. But throughout the hard times, there was always the knowledge that there was an end point, and I didn’t want to look back when I finished and think I didn’t do my best.

Despite what your parents or grandparents might say along the lines of ‘if you don’t know it now, you’ll never know it’, there are thousands of degrees hanging on walls around Australia that have been earned entirely in the month of October. The three magic words to remember now are these – ‘short term memory’. It’s amazing what you can stuff into the human brain for a few weeks, even if most of it will inevitably seep onto the beaches of Byron Bay or the Gold Coast in the months to come.

But while scientific formulae and English quotes and Keynesian economics all fight for their places in your short term memories, I’m sure there will be elements of this place, Penleigh and Essendon Grammar School that will be deeply embedded in your long term memories. Maybe you’ll remember a certain teacher. Maybe a sporting occasion (26 marks I tell ya). Or maybe some lines you had to write out at a Friday detention, and I say that because fourteen years after I stood up to leave an English class early in year nine, I can still remember having to write out fifty times.

‘The period does not end when the ophacleide hoots. It ends when the master in charge, or mistress, says as of how, it has.’

I don’t even think that ‘as of how, it has’ makes sense, but I’ve remember it all the same.

Most of your long term memories will no doubt relate to the people who are celebrating with you here tonight. And amid the celebration of finishing, there’s also the sadness that in almost every case, you will not see as much of each other from now on. Of course you can always catch up at that English exam that’s on in, what is it, now, nine days, thirteen hours and fifty minutes, but you might have other things on your mind then. So enjoy the night, enjoy each other’s company, which will be a lot easier to do if I sit down and shut up.

Thank you for having me; best of luck for the next few weeks, and for the rest of your lives. 

Tony Wilson's most recent book is Emo the Emu (Scholastic, 2015), a rhyming ballad about a grumpy bird cheering himself up by visiting every state of Australia. Good tourist book. You can buy it here.

Clare Wright: 'In Search of the Divine Mother of the Macrob Sisterhood', The Mac. Robertson Girls High School - 2007

27 November, 2007, Melbourne Town Hall, Melbourne, Australia

Principal Garvey, teachers, students, parents, friends, distinguished guests – thank you for inviting me to speak to you tonight.  It is a great honour, and not a little daunting too.  I well remember my own Macrob Speech Night in 1986 – good lord, 21 years ago, can that really be true? – and what an immense privilege it felt to be seated in this great hall, let alone gracing its stage.

The last time I addressed an audience of Macrob students was at a Monday morning General Assembly when I was in Year 11.  I was the elected studentrepresentative on School Council and due to give my monthly report on Council business to the student body.  I remember being seated on stage in the more modest school hall, waiting my turn while the Guest Speaker gave her talk.  On this occasion the illustrious speaker was the novelist Helen Garner, the mother of one of my classmates.  Her daughter, Alice, had recently conducted a survey of her friends on behalf of Helen, canvassing for ideas for the talk.  What would we like to hear about?  What could she possibly have to say that would stimulate and entertain a polyglot group of smarty-pants’s like us?  ‘She can talk about anything she likes’, I said to Alice, ‘EXCEPT WOMEN.  Anything but women!  We know we’re wonderful.  We know we can do anything’.  With a dramatic roll of my eyes, I thus dismissed the logic of all those other notable women who had fronted up to our General Assemblies to inspire our dreams and ambitions with tales of their own achievements, and exhort us to make the most of our prodigiousskills and talents.

So after my indignant display of self-belief, I was deflated like a balloon when Helen began her speech like this: ‘With apologies to the girl who said she didn’t want to hear about women, that’s exactly what I’m going to talk about because I can’t think of anything more important’.  Perched up on stage, trapped between Miss Blood and Mrs McNair with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide, I felt a hot wave of humiliation wash over me.  I hope that tonight I don’t come away feeling quite so vulnerable and exposed.  If I look like a rabbit caught in the headlights of your scrutiny, at least you’ll know why.

Helen Garner later sent me a note – I have it still, folded tenderly in a little box of keepsakes – that explained why she had framed me like that.  She was amazed and exhilarated, she said, to hear the almost wearied self-confidence and optimism of girls of her daughter’s generation.  It made her feel, she said, like all the hard work of the women’s movement in which she’d so stridently struggled had been worth it after all if what had been created was a cohort of such headstrong, resilient girls.

I must admit that some two decades later,  I look back on that self-assured teenager I was and marvel myself at her certainty in the inherent power and ability vested in her womanhood.  I fear that some of the other intrinsic ‘features’ of womanhood that I have experienced, including infertility, traumatic child birth and postnatal depression, have knocked some of the stuffing out of that bright-eyed girl.  It would, in certain respects, be easy for me to regale you with tales of my own professional successes: my academic qualifications, my accolades, my teaching experience, my writing career, my work in federal politics, my media appearances.  Each of these areas has provided me with a great deal of personal satisfaction and a reasonable degree of public influence.  I am proud of my efforts and believe that my contribution to scholarship and public culture – particularly in the arena of feminist history – has begun to repay the debt I feel I owe to society for the opportunities afforded by my first-rate publicly funded education, my dedicated teachers and my ever-supportive parents.

But I am also mindful of what happened at my twenty-year Macrob reunion last year, at which a few dozen of my fellow alumni buzzed around in the new school wing and filled in the gaps since we had thrown off our grey blazers and long socks for good.  (Good riddance, we all said to long socks!)  Now it was my turn to be amazed by the fact that none of us was particularly interested in what others were doing for a living.  We all assumed that our talented former class mates had found fascinating, challenging vocations for themselves.  ‘I’m a doctor’ or ‘I’m a lawyer’ rolled off the tongue, but did not make a lasting impact.   Much to my surprise, what we lingered over were the pictures of each other’s children, secreted away in our wallets and handbags.  ‘This is my Lucy, and here is my Sam.  That was a few years ago now.  Here they are at Luna Park.  Lucy just lost her first tooth.  Sam was in a dreadful mood that day’.  The childless among us hung back, looking slightly chastened by the intimate sharing of birth stories and complicit laughter at our toddlers’ wild antics.

Was this 2006, or 1966? Hadn’t Germaine Greer claimed in her earth-shattering 1974 critique of patriarchy, The Female Eunuch, that biology is not destiny?  Could she have been wrong?  Greer, Garner and their international compatriots battled to change the attitudes and institutions that confined women to their roles as wives and mothers, limiting their participation in public life and confining their social purpose to one of reproduction.  But judging by the enthusiasm that my former classmates showed for each other’s happy snaps, was it possible that the communal gratification in our experience as mothers outstripped pride in our professional achievements?

These are provocative and potentially dangerous questions to be posing.  Women have, for over two hundred years, fought tooth and nail to overcome the prejudice and discrimination against their sex based on the notion that women are by nature best suited to the private sphere of home and family while men, by predetermined nature, are more appropriately stationed in the public sphere of commerce and industry.  On the eve of the centenary of women’s suffrage in Victoria, we should not forget that only one hundred years ago, women could not vote in this state.  Opposition to women’s citizenship rights was based on the idea that homes and families would be systematically destroyed if women were encouraged to take an interest in civic life.  We can now laugh smugly at such a crazy notion – and yet there is still much work to be done before we finally break down all the barriers to women’s advancement within and enjoyment of the public sphere.  Equal pay, paid maternity leaveand affordable, high quality child care will be campaigns my and your generation must win before we can claim that feminism’s work has been done.  (And that is only in a wealthy country like ours, not even dreaming of raising the quality of life for women in developing nations where contaminated water kills five million people every year.)

So why would I want to raise the issue of women’s intense pleasure and satisfaction with their destiny as mothers when Helen Garner’s generation of feminists fought so hard, and so effectively, to break women free of the socially constructed prison of conventional femininity?

Well, I suppose it because I believe my time at Macrob equipped me very well for many aspects of my life.  It buoyed my confidence in my intellectual capacities.  It inspired my belief that I could go out into the world and do whatever the hell I wanted to do.  It fostered a desire to make a difference.  It nurtured a democratic temperament that valued other people for their humanity, not their background or their status.  It developed qualities of independence and discipline and self-control.  It taught me to respect myself and to respect the authority of women.

But what it did not do – and perhaps this is not the role of public education, even girls’ education in this day and age, and believe me I am not pointing the finger or laying blame – what my very fine, much beloved school did not do was prepare me for the parts of a woman’s life that have nothing to do with achievement or success or advancement or independence or mastery or control.   What my non-professional experience of the world (thus far) has taught me is that life is not a performance sport.  We can strive to be the best student, or the best doctor, or the best lawyer or the best historian, and there will be tests we can take – or paces we can put ourselves through – that will mark and measure our pre-eminence.  We will be applauded and rewarded for our efforts.  But if we try to measure the accomplishments of our womanhood, and particularly our motherhood, by the same paradigms of success and failure, we are bound, like Sisyphus, to fail.  (Or, if it’s more apposite to evoke a Greek goddess, like Medusa, we are forever destined to have a bad hair day.) If we carry the principles and strategies of competition into our relationships, we inevitably come out the losers.

We have just witnessed an historic federal election that was very much, I believe, a contest fought over values. In the end, the electorate voted overwhelmingly to throw out a government that had sought to ingratiate into our culture the idea that ruthless disregard for the rights and principles of fairness and decency is justified by economic growth, material accumulation and unlimited consumption.  We now have a female deputy prime minister who has vowed to restore some of the autonomy and social consideration that all families need to hold tight.  Let us hope that the corporatist worship of private wealth and scorn for vulnerability will no longer set our public standards and drive our public processes.  How does this aspiration relate to my message tonight?  Well, I think the election results mirrors my strong sense that the prize at the top of the professional ladder can not be measured by economic value alone.  As women, we cannot expect to buy our way out of the deficits in our physiology, or the chaos of our emotional lives, or the unexpected pitfalls that might appear before us.  We can neither outsmart nor outspend the hard-wired contingencies of a woman’s life.

Let me make it quite clear that I am in no way advocating a return to the days when the shape and destiny of a woman’s life was predetermined by her sex.  Women are wonderful and we can do anything.  (Although possibly not all of us are wonderful enough to do everything all at once!)  But, in the end, what will secure our wellbeing, I believe, are the social connections – the friends, the family, the partners and the children – with whom we can share our weaknesses as well as our strengths, our doubts as well as our knowledge, and our fears as well as our convictions.

Motherhood may seem a very long way off to most of you.  The average age for first time mothers in Australia today is about 30, up by 3 and a half years since 1985.  You can do the maths to work out how many more years it will be, if these demographic patterns continue, before most of you start your own families.  And, if current trends persist, up to 25% of you will never become mothers at all. (So you’ll have to bring photos of your cat to your high school reunion.) Perhaps my reflections seem as irrelevant to you as Helen Garner’s talk about the 1970s women’s movement appeared to me twenty years ago.

Schools, like grandmothers, provide an important anchor point in the life of a young woman.  I recently lost my 92 year-old grandmother.  I had the honour of writing a eulogy for her funeral.  If I may, I’d like to conclude with some of those words, spoken with love.  ‘When I was feeling lost and alone as an 18 year-old travelling abroad, my grandmother consoled me with the words, “Always be true to yourself”.  She didn’t mean that it was okay to be self-centred or individualistic; indeed throughout her long life my grandma showed through her deeds that she was committed to public service.  What she meant was to trust in your heart and have faith in your judgment, staying true to your principles and beliefs’.

As you leave the familiar harbour of this venerable school, to chart new waters and navigate your own bold course, I hope that what you might stow away from my reflections tonight is a sense that to enjoy the full quality of life and experience that our affluent nation, our exemplary education and our hard-working feminist foremothers have provided us with, it is vital to nurture and develop the whole woman in you.  It’s vital to care for your body and your spirit and your heart as well as your mind.  And it’s vital to nourish and enrich the family, community and society in which you daily live through the practice of compassion and understanding.

Thank you again for inviting me here tonight.  I wish you all well for your future success and happiness.  And if you want to see the photos of my kids, I’ll show you later.

Buy Clare's fantastic book, for which she was awarded The Stella Prize.

Jodie Foster: 'The journey of your life has a way of sneaking off the starting line', University of Pennsylvania - 2006

15 May, 2006, University of Pennsylvania, USA

My fellow graduates, I’ve got the best seat in the house today, a view of the greatest hearts, minds and talents of this generation. You will undoubtedly hear a lot of that kind of talk here today. There are sayings like “the intellectual elite” or “the hope for this country’s future” or “the responsibility that comes with the privilege of education.” And if you’re anything like I was at my Yale graduation in 1984, you’ll think, what a load of elitist crap. You’ll look around you, at your friends still bleary eyed and silly from last night’s concoctions, the buddies you curl up with, sing stupid songs with, make faces with. These guys? We can’t possibly be the ones they’re talking about…Do we know where we’re going? Hell no! If you’re anything like I was you’ll spend the next six months in bed watching re-runs feeling like a complete idiot.

But somewhere in the middle of free form post-graduation survival, the journey of your life has a way of sneaking off the starting line. That is when your Penn education starts peeking through. You have been given the promise of meaningfulness. You’ve learned the discipline to “just do it,” to apply yourself and lay your guts on the line. You have been inspired and not just by the things you have learned here. (Let’s face it. You won’t remember a single test question in a few months.) You have been inspired by the experiences you have had, the people you’ve held, the blood you have shed, all the growing up surrounded by hopefulness of spirit. You have dared, have stuck your hands in the surf and come up with dripping substance.  All of that fine and delicious matter has a way of becoming the material of your life. You pick up bits and pieces of treasure and trash, pain and pleasure, passions and disappointments and you start stuffing them in your bag...your big bag of experience. You do some dumb things that don’t work out at all. You stumble excitedly on little gems that you never saw coming. And you stuff them all in your bag. You pursue the things you love and believe in. You cast off the images of yourself that don’t fit. And suddenly you look behind you and a pattern emerges. You look in front of you and the path makes sense. There is nothing more beautiful than finding your course as you believe you bob aimlessly in the current. Wouldn’t you know that your path was there all along, waiting for you to knock, waiting for you to become. This path does not belong to your parents, your teachers, your leaders, or your lovers. Your path is your character defining itself more and more everyday like a photograph coming into focus, like a color that becomes more vivid in contrast with its surroundings. And who is this shiny penny rolling towards that bright future, our graduating cliché? Is he or she so shiny? Is the future truly bright? Well, that is only for you to know and for you to find out. You are standing on a freeway and things will happen. How you duck, weave and balance, how you push, twist and choose, well, that is up to you.

My freshman Fall in 1980 marked the election of Ronald Reagan for his first term in office and the subsequent 12 years we all know too much about. It was also when HIV/AIDS started to touch our landscape. So much sadness and grief became a part of our lives in that time and the years to come. Like my friends, I protested apartheid in South Africa, the CIA’s presence in Central America. I bailed my friends out of jail. I stayed up nights talking, talking, talking, endlessly poring over the ruminations of our consciousness. Finally my graduation procession in 1984 angled through the rainy streets of New Haven, all of the students greeted with smiles and buttons from hundreds of striking and picketing university workers. College campuses stung with the excitement of activism. If only I could find that connection to move our country towards change, to serve. But I was never comfortable being front and center with my political opinions. It just wasn’t me. It wasn’t my way...What was my way? I wanted to be relevant, significant. I wanted my life to be meaningful. All I really loved was to tell stories, to find the hidden truths in the details of people’s lives. Well, what difference could that possibly make? I had no idea at the time how much of a difference it can make. Yes, I tell stories and those stories have changed me, have cut me open and spilled me out and connected me with the world around me in ways I could never have imagined. I have learned so much from them. What I have learned lives on in the food I make, in the way I treat my kids, the laws I uphold, the hand I outstretch, the rituals I cling to and pass along. Like the characters I have played, those women who endure terrible adversity and survive intact, victorious, heroic, I want to become better instead of worse, deeper, stronger, more truthful. With every choice I make in my lifetime I come a little closer to that goal. And perhaps in the process other women will be inspired by these portrayals to do the same. This is my way. How could I have possibly known that my freshman year in college?

I’m sure all of you remember your freshman year of 2002. On the anniversary of the worst September in our nation’s history we were all glued to those burning buildings, the screaming confusion, the fiery chaos of the 9/11 attacks set against a painful drumbeat for war. And there were the stories. The immigrant window washer working on the Twin Towers that day. How he’d had breakfast that morning with one of those happy grins. “It’s gonna be sunny.” The pre-schoolers holding hands as they were hurried down Greenwich Street away from the explosions. The teachers would shout, “If you see their parents tell them they’re okay.” Firemen climbing up, climbing up into the smoke of fear as the world we’d come to believe in crumbled below them. Grief, unending grief, too hard for one nation to bear. And in that one instant of deep sorrowful mourning the world was with us. We reached out our arms as the world reached out its arms. A terrible moment. A moment of wonder. A moment so true and so beautiful and so exquisitely sad, one that we shared with humankind…And then the moment was gone, in my belief, squandered. So many lives lost, for what? And where are we now? Your senior year witnessed the terrible wake of Hurricane Katrina, a mark so devastating on our country that words just cannot describe. (Not just the natural disaster but our leader’s equally disastrous and shameful reaction.) How do you live down that mark, a scar that will haunt America and the fabric of its communities for decades to come? No, this country is not better now than it was four years ago. The world is not better now than it was four years ago. That will be part of your story, graduates of the class of 2006. Not your parents’ story, not your teachers’, your friends’, your lovers’ or your leaders’. Where will your story take you? How will your experience pave the way for a new voice in America? I hope it will take you out of these doors, out into the open air. You will breathe it in your lungs and say, “From now on this life will be what I stand for, dammit. Move over. This is my story now.”

You will find on your diplomas, and my diploma,  the motto of the University of Pennsylvania, which in Latin reads: “Leges sine moribus vanae.” “Laws without morals are useless.” I would add that morals without commitment are empty. Your Penn education has given you a two-by-four. You may build a building or hit someone over the head. The choice is yours. How lucky to find you have the option of filling your life with your passions. And no, not everyone does. You have the privilege of creating meaning in your life so that others might also come to enjoy that privilege. Do not waste it trying to become someone you’re not. Use it to become who you are already. Class of 2006, I’ll leave you with a quote you all know by heart. Feel free to chime in. I’m going to say it twice.  From Eminem...

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment,
You own it. You better never let it go.
One shot! Do not miss your chance to blow.
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime.

Class of 2006, congratulations and welcome.

Conan O'Brien: 'Today, you have achieved something special, something only 92 percent of Americans your age will ever know', Dartmouth College - 2011

June 2011, Dartmouth College, Hanover, New Hampshire, USA,

I've been living in Los Angeles for two years, and I've never been this cold in my life. I will pay anyone here $300 for GORE-TEX gloves. Anybody. I'm serious. I have the cash.

Before I begin, I must point out that behind me sits a highly admired President of the United States and decorated war hero while I, a cable television talk show host, has been chosen to stand here and impart wisdom. I pray I never witness a more damning example of what is wrong with America today.

Graduates, faculty, parents, relatives, undergraduates, and old people that just come to these things: Good morning and congratulations to the Dartmouth Class of 2011. Today, you have achieved something special, something only 92 percent of Americans your age will ever know: a college diploma. That’s right, with your college diploma you now have a crushing advantage over 8 percent of the workforce. I'm talking about dropout losers like Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and Mark Zuckerberg. Incidentally, speaking of Mr. Zuckerberg, only at Harvard would someone have to invent a massive social network just to talk with someone in the next room.

My first job as your commencement speaker is to illustrate that life is not fair. For example, you have worked tirelessly for four years to earn the diploma you’ll be receiving this weekend.

That was great.

And Dartmouth is giving me the same degree for interviewing the fourth lead in Twilight. Deal with it. Another example that life is not fair: if it does rain, the powerful rich people on stage get the tent. Deal with it.

I would like to thank President Kim for inviting me here today. After my phone call with President Kim, I decided to find out a little bit about the man. He goes by President Kim and Dr. Kim. To his friends, he's Jim Kim, J to the K, Special K, JK Rowling, the Just Kidding Kimster, and most puzzling, "Stinky Pete." He served as the chair of the Department of Global Health and Social Medicine at Harvard Medical School, spearheaded a task force for the World Health Organization on Global Health Initiatives, won a MacArthur Genius Grant, and was one of TIME Magazine's 100 Most Influential People in 2006. Good God, man, what the hell are you compensating for? Seriously. We get it. You're smart. By the way Dr. Kim, you were brought to Dartmouth to lead, and as a world-class anthropologist, you were also hired to figure out why each of these graduating students ran around a bonfire 111 times.

But I thank you for inviting me here, Stinky Pete, and it is an honor. Though some of you may see me as a celebrity, you should know that I once sat where you sit. Literally. Late last night I snuck out here and sat in every seat. I did it to prove a point: I am not bright and I have a lot of free time.

But this is a wonderful occasion and it is great to be here in New Hampshire, where I am getting an honorary degree and all the legal fireworks I can fit in the trunk of my car.

You know, New Hampshire is such a special place. When I arrived I took a deep breath of this crisp New England air and thought, "Wow, I'm in the state that's next to the state where Ben and Jerry's ice cream is made."

But don't get me wrong, I take my task today very seriously. When I got the call two months ago to be your speaker, I decided to prepare with the same intensity many of you have devoted to an important term paper. So late last night, I began. I drank two cans of Red Bull, snorted some Adderall, played a few hours of Call of Duty, and then opened my browser. I think Wikipedia put it best when they said "Dartmouth College is a private Ivy League University in Hanover, New Hampshire, United States." Thank you and good luck.

To communicate with you students today, I have gone to great lengths to become well-versed in your unique linguistic patterns. In fact, just this morning I left Baker Berry with my tripee Barry to eat a Billy Bob at the Bema when my flitz to Francesca was Blitz jacked by some d-bag on his FSP.

Yes, I've done my research. This college was named after the Second Earl of Dartmouth, a good friend of the Third Earl of UC Santa Cruz and the Duke of the Barbizon School of Beauty. Your school motto is "Vox clamantis in deserto," which means "Voice crying out in the wilderness." This is easily the most pathetic school motto I have ever heard. Apparently, it narrowly beat out "Silently Weeping in Thick Shrub" and "Whimpering in Moist Leaves without Pants." Your school color is green, and this color was chosen by Frederick Mather in 1867 because, and this is true—I looked it up—"it was the only color that had not been taken already." I cannot remember hearing anything so sad. Dartmouth, you have an inferiority complex, and you should not. You have graduated more great fictitious Americans than any other college. Meredith Grey of Grey's Anatomy. Pete Campbell from Mad Men. Michael Corleone from The Godfather. In fact, I look forward to next years' Valedictory Address by your esteemed classmate, Count Chocula. Of course, your greatest fictitious graduate is Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner. Man, can you imagine if a real Treasury Secretary made those kinds of decisions? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Now I know what you're going to say, Dartmouth, you're going to say, well "We've got Dr. Seuss." Well guess what, we're all tired of hearing about Dr. Seuss. Face it: The man rhymed fafloozle with saznoozle. In the literary community, that's called cheating.

Your insecurity is so great, Dartmouth, that you don't even think you deserve a real podium. I'm sorry. What the hell is this thing? It looks like you stole it from the set of Survivor: Nova Scotia. Seriously, it looks like something a bear would use at an AA meeting.

No, Dartmouth, you must stand tall. Raise your heads high and feel proud.

Because if Harvard, Yale, and Princeton are your self-involved, vain, name-dropping older brothers, you are the cool, sexually confident, lacrosse playing younger sibling who knows how to throw a party and looks good in a down vest. Brown, of course, is your lesbian sister who never leaves her room. And Penn, Columbia, and Cornell—well, frankly, who gives a shit.

Yes, I've always had a special bond with this school. In fact, this is my second time coming here. When I was 17 years old and touring colleges, way back in the fall of 1980, I came to Dartmouth. Dartmouth was a very different place back then. I made the trip up from Boston on a mule and, after asking the blacksmith in West Leb for directions, I came to this beautiful campus. No dormitories had been built yet, so I stayed with a family of fur traders in White River Junction. It snowed heavily during my visit and I was trapped here for four months. I was forced to eat the mule, who a week earlier had been forced to eat the fur traders. Still, I loved Dartmouth and I vowed to return.

But fate dealt a heavy blow. With no money, I was forced to enroll in a small, local commuter school, a pulsating sore on a muddy elbow of the Charles River. I was a miserable wretch, and to this day I cannot help but wonder: What if I had gone to Dartmouth?

If I had gone to Dartmouth, I might have spent at least some of my college years outside and today I might not be allergic to all plant life, as well as most types of rock.

If I had gone to Dartmouth, right now I'd be wearing a fleece thong instead of a lace thong.

If I had gone to Dartmouth, I still wouldn't know the second verse to "Dear Old Dartmouth." Face it, none of you do. You all mumble that part.

If I had gone to Dartmouth, I'd have a liver the size and consistency of a bean bag chair.

Finally, if I had gone to Dartmouth, today I'd be getting an honorary degree at Harvard. Imagine how awesome that would be.

You are a great school, and you deserve a historic commencement address. That's right, I want my message today to be forever remembered because it changed the world. To do this, I must suggest groundbreaking policy. Winston Churchill gave his famous "Iron Curtain" speech at Westminster College in 1946. JFK outlined his nuclear disarmament policy at American University in 1963. Today, I would like to set forth my own policy here at Dartmouth: I call it "The Conan Doctrine." Under "The Conan Doctrine":

- All bachelor degrees will be upgraded to master's degrees. All master's degrees will be upgraded to PhDs. And all MBA students will be immediately transferred to a white collar prison.

- Under "The Conan Doctrine," Winter Carnival will become Winter Carnivale and be moved to Rio. Clothing will be optional, all expenses paid by the Alumni Association.

- Your nickname, the Big Green, will be changed to something more kick-ass like "The Jade Blade," the "Seafoam Avenger," or simply "Lime-Zilla."

- The D-Plan and "quarter system" will finally be updated to "the one sixty-fourth system." Semesters will last three days. Students will be encouraged to take 48 semesters off. They must, however, be on campus during their Sophomore 4th of July.

- Under "The Conan Doctrine," I will re-instate Tubestock. And I will punish those who tried to replace it with Fieldstock. Rafting and beer are a much better combination than a field and a beer. I happen to know that in two years, they were going to downgrade Fieldstock to Deskstock, seven hours of fun sitting quietly at your desk. Don't let those bastards do it.

And finally, under "The Conan Doctrine," all commencement speakers who shamelessly pander with cheap, inside references designed to get childish applause, will be forced to apologize—to the greatest graduating class in the history of the world. Dartmouth class of 2011 rules!

Besides policy, another hallmark of great commencement speeches is deep, profound advice like "reach for the stars." Well today, I am not going to waste your time with empty clichés. Instead, I am going to give you real, practical advice that you will need to know if you are going to survive the next few years.

- First, adult acne lasts longer than you think. I almost cancelled two days ago because I had a zit on my eye.

- Guys, this is important: You cannot iron a shirt while wearing it.

- Here's another one. If you live on Ramen Noodles for too long, you lose all feelings in your hands and your stool becomes a white gel.

- And finally, wearing colorful Converse high-tops beneath your graduation robe is a great way to tell your classmates that this is just the first of many horrible decisions you plan to make with the rest of your life.

Of course there are many parents here and I have real advice for them as well. Parents, you should write this down:

- Many of your children you haven't seen them in four years. Well, now you are about to see them every day when they come out of the basement to tell you the wi-fi isn't working.

- If your child majored in fine arts or philosophy, you have good reason to be worried. The only place where they are now really qualified to get a job is ancient Greece. Good luck with that degree.

- The traffic today on East Wheelock is going to be murder, so once they start handing out diplomas, you should slip out in the middle of the K's.

And, I have to tell you this:

- You will spend more money framing your child's diploma than they will earn in the next six months. It's tough out there, so be patient. The only people hiring right now are Panera Bread and Mexican drug cartels.

Yes, you parents must be patient because it is indeed a grim job market out there. And one of the reasons it's so tough finding work is that aging baby boomers refuse to leave their jobs. Trust me on this. Even when they promise you for five years that they are going to leave—and say it on television—I mean you can go on YouTube right now and watch the guy do it, there is no guarantee they won't come back. Of course I'm speaking generally.

But enough. This is not a time for grim prognostications or negativity. No, I came here today because, believe it or not, I actually do have something real to tell you.

Eleven years ago I gave an address to a graduating class at Harvard. I have not spoken at a graduation since because I thought I had nothing left to say. But then 2010 came. And now I'm here, three thousand miles from my home, because I learned a hard but profound lesson last year and I'd like to share it with you. In 2000, I told graduates "Don't be afraid to fail." Well now I'm here to tell you that, though you should not fear failure, you should do your very best to avoid it. Nietzsche famously said "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger." But what he failed to stress is that it almost kills you. Disappointment stings and, for driven, successful people like yourselves it is disorienting. What Nietzsche should have said is "Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you watch a lot of Cartoon Network and drink mid-price Chardonnay at 11 in the morning."

Now, by definition, Commencement speakers at an Ivy League college are considered successful. But a little over a year ago, I experienced a profound and very public disappointment. I did not get what I wanted, and I left a system that had nurtured and helped define me for the better part of 17 years. I went from being in the center of the grid to not only off the grid, but underneath the coffee table that the grid sits on, lost in the shag carpeting that is underneath the coffee table supporting the grid. It was the making of a career disaster, and a terrible analogy.

But then something spectacular happened. Fogbound, with no compass, and adrift, I started trying things. I grew a strange, cinnamon beard. I dove into the world of social media. I started tweeting my comedy. I threw together a national tour. I played the guitar. I did stand-up, wore a skin-tight blue leather suit, recorded an album, made a documentary, and frightened my friends and family. Ultimately, I abandoned all preconceived perceptions of my career path and stature and took a job on basic cable with a network most famous for showing reruns, along with sitcoms created by a tall, black man who dresses like an old, black woman. I did a lot of silly, unconventional, spontaneous and seemingly irrational things and guess what: with the exception of the blue leather suit, it was the most satisfying and fascinating year of my professional life. To this day I still don't understand exactly what happened, but I have never had more fun, been more challenged—and this is important—had more conviction about what I was doing.

How could this be true? Well, it's simple: There are few things more liberating in this life than having your worst fear realized. I went to college with many people who prided themselves on knowing exactly who they were and exactly where they were going. At Harvard, five different guys in my class told me that they would one day be President of the United States. Four of them were later killed in motel shoot-outs. The other one briefly hosted Blues Clues, before dying senselessly in yet another motel shoot-out. Your path at 22 will not necessarily be your path at 32 or 42. One's dream is constantly evolving, rising and falling, changing course. This happens in every job, but because I have worked in comedy for twenty-five years, I can probably speak best about my own profession.

Way back in the 1940s there was a very, very funny man named Jack Benny. He was a giant star, easily one of the greatest comedians of his generation. And a much younger man named Johnny Carson wanted very much to be Jack Benny. In some ways he was, but in many ways he wasn't. He emulated Jack Benny, but his own quirks and mannerisms, along with a changing medium, pulled him in a different direction. And yet his failure to completely become his hero made him the funniest person of his generation. David Letterman wanted to be Johnny Carson, and was not, and as a result my generation of comedians wanted to be David Letterman. And none of us are. My peers and I have all missed that mark in a thousand different ways. But the point is this : It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us and makes us unique. It's not easy, but if you accept your misfortune and handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound re-invention.

So, at the age of 47, after 25 years of obsessively pursuing my dream, that dream changed. For decades, in show business, the ultimate goal of every comedian was to host The Tonight Show. It was the Holy Grail, and like many people I thought that achieving that goal would define me as successful. But that is not true. No specific job or career goal defines me, and it should not define you. In 2000—in 2000—I told graduates to not be afraid to fail, and I still believe that. But today I tell you that whether you fear it or not, disappointment will come. The beauty is that through disappointment you can gain clarity, and with clarity comes conviction and true originality.

Many of you here today are getting your diploma at this Ivy League school because you have committed yourself to a dream and worked hard to achieve it. And there is no greater cliché in a commencement address than "follow your dream." Well I am here to tell you that whatever you think your dream is now, it will probably change. And that's okay. Four years ago, many of you had a specific vision of what your college experience was going to be and who you were going to become. And I bet, today, most of you would admit that your time here was very different from what you imagined. Your roommates changed, your major changed, for some of you your sexual orientation changed. I bet some of you have changed your sexual orientation since I began this speech. I know I have. But through the good and especially the bad, the person you are now is someone you could never have conjured in the fall of 2007.

I have told you many things today, most of it foolish but some of it true. I'd like to end my address by breaking a taboo and quoting myself from 17 months ago. At the end of my final program with NBC, just before signing off, I said "Work hard, be kind, and amazing things will happen." Today, receiving this honor and speaking to the Dartmouth Class of 2011 from behind a tree-trunk, I have never believed that more.

Thank you very much, and congratulations.

Trevor Henley: 'Live and love life to the full, you don’t know how long or how short it might be', Year 12 Valedictory Dinner, Camberwell Grammar - 2015

21 October, 2015, Members Dining Room, MCG, Melbourne, Australia

Headmaster, Chairman and Members of Council, Special Guests, my Wife Kay, Members of Staff, Parents and Year Twelve Leavers.

Thank you for the invitation to speak tonight and to propose the toast to the Class of 2015.

In 1995, the first of the two year build of the PAC and Music School, I was asked to propose the same toast as the then Headmaster Colin Black wished to break the tradition of someone retiring to speak. So here we are 20 years later!

In actual fact I sang most of my speech that night, to a little “ditty” from the operetta “The Mikado”, something I will not attempt this evening. The then VCE co-ordinator, Mr. Geoff Shaw, asked me to delay moving to the lecturn so some introductory music could be played….so I duly waited and yes! The strippers music was played!

Anniversaries, Milestones, Graduations, Leaver’s or Valedictory Dinners and the like.

Are they that important?

Why do we celebrate them?

Yes they are important and we celebrate them as a mark of how far we have come on the journey of life.

Your birthday for instance, I think most of us would be pretty upset if our day of arrival into this world was not remembered. The day, as little boys, you moved from the Junior School or your Primary School into the Middle or Secondary School.

Your first pair of long trousers, your first school white shirt, the day you turned 18, obtained your license, your first “legal” drink in a pub.

Today we celebrate that you have completed your secondary school. This is a milestone in your life and you are about to take that somewhat forbidding leap away from the sheltered walls of Mont Albert Rd into the unknown. For some of you it will be total relief, “at last” you say, “ I am out”! and we, your teachers, completely understand your sentiments.

For others of you this will be a time of contemplation, reflection, exploration, to take those first unsure steps, gently feeling your way. For everyone of you it is the next phase of your lives, for you to make of it what you will.

As we celebrate this milestone with you today we also take time to look back, reflecting on what we have done and how far we have travelled from whence we came. It doesn’t matter if we are the youngest or the oldest here tonight, we all need to do this and be thankful for where we are at this time before we move on into the future.

The Class of 2015 has travelled quite a distance. Some have stayed close to home, never changing schools, others may have had one change of school, or a number of schools. Some will have travelled thousands of miles to change schools.

Having arrived at CGS how far have you travelled during your time here?

Perhaps these “vignettes” may bring back some memories.

At the house aths, a “hurdler”; having knocked over every single hurdle; gave up on the last one…. he simply walked around it.

One of the house captains was caught on a lunch date, during school hours, with CGGS girls.

Another senior office holding boy attempted to jump a wire fence whilst carrying a radio back pack…a broken leg was the result. Someone else knows the figures .345 quite well!

One of you mistook the cafeteria doors as opened and discovered them closed…. shattering them.

 “Nibbles” I hear has no hand to eye co-ordination, knows all the symbols in Naruto and was put on the “time out bench” by Mrs Beck.

One of you decided that it was more fun spending the evening playing “warcraft” than being at the formal.

Another of you “messed up” one of your peers new $200 shoes!

A certain English teacher ensures that every boy in his English class has “another name” besides the one on the school roll.

Soapsuds, Milk Bar, A—Hem, Hawkeye.

A certain musician, whilst struggling to be at school on time, finds it difficult to kick a ball straight, photographs all his food,  conducts date interviews for “the school formal” and owns a onsie!

The Clifford Head of House has outdone me in the colourful suit stakes.

One of you set off a Junior School fire extinguisher “on purpose”. Another ate bush berries on year 8 camp where the reaction was a swollen face to the point that he couldn’t talk.

There is always “one show pony” and from his early drama days in Junior School, nothing has changed…. at all!!

And one of the top sportsman here has always been too “cool” for school and preferred to be mates with the male teachers.

There will be many of you who will go onto  careers of great variety, and changes of career. Perhaps you will make a name for yourself in the nation or in the world. But not at a Frap Party on tour, then be despatched home!

Others of you will quietly go about your careers and life contributing in your own way to the communities in which you live. But hopefully not with a street name of “snake”.

How far will you travel?

What milestones will you reach?

In Sept 1971, I returned to CGS to teach the flute and in 1974 I was appointed Ass D of Music. The then Headmaster David Dyer and the Director of Music, John Mallinson were prepared to take a risk with me. And it was a risk.

A more inexperienced 23yr old, very young, a bit green, “wet behind the years” you could not imagine. Perhaps a little bit like you, about to embark on the next stage of your life without the security of school.

However I grew into the role, learnt on the job, watched and observed others…..discovered how to operate and perhaps more importantly how not to operate.  

I have been engrossed and fulfilled in my work here at CGS doing what I do best, nurturing, encouraging, persuading, cajoling, moving both furniture and boys around the stage and the school, letting people know exactly what I think! and having the occasional “hissy fit.”

Making sure I never wear the same clothing ensemble in any one week and to prevent members of the choir giving me a hard time, ensuring that my socks match my trousers!

But more importantly making music with the boys of this school.

I share this with you tonight because with determination, direction, listening, watching and learning, caring for others and to some extent the right timing, you can make your way and be a success at what ever you do. Try not to  allow failure to get in the way or prevent you from finding another way around the problem. If failure visits you make it a learning tool.

Some might say I haven’t travelled very far at all.

I feel I have travelled a very long way.

To quote Tony Little in his book ‘An Intelligent Guide to Education’, “Teaching is a noble profession. Teachers devote their energy and skill to helping the young develop into purposeful adults who, in their turn, may lead and change society for the better”.

Where else is there the opportunity to play a major part in helping to shape and lay the foundation for young people’s futures.

Joel Egerton, actor and film director, said in an interview, “School is something you will always remember. It is unclouded. Later events in life tend to become clouded in our memories, school doesn’t”.

I wonder what you leave behind?

What have you achieved?

One career at one school, a very special school, where it has embraced me and I have embracedit.

A place where I have been accepted for all that I am, and all that I do both musically, and in other areas.

It has been an honour to be a member of staff of this wonderful school.

Will you be able to look back in forty or fifty years and have the same feeling about your careers?

To have achieved more than I could ever have hoped or dreamed.  Many people aspire to this, but few attain it. I feel so fortunate to be one of those people who have had that experience.

Will you have this same feeling at the end of your careers? I hope so.

Remember the old saying “ that in giving you receive.”

I have received far more than I could ever have asked or hoped, from my colleagues, from parents and friends and especially from you young men.

Hopefully, we your teachers and your parents have given you the right set up for the future. You in return have given us joy, fun, times of frustration and worry, laughter and happiness in working and living with us.

If you receive, during your working life, what I have experienced and received during mine, then you will be very lucky men indeed.

If I was to leave you, the Class of 2015, with a message tonight, it would be that you have a happy and fulfilling life and career.

Live and love life to the full, you don’t know how long or how short it might be.

Stay safe, but be prepared to take a risk, you never know where it might lead.

Be kind, considerate and generous to your fellow human beings.

Remember that in giving you receive…

“Spectemur Agendo”…..By Your Deeds You will be Known.

“I slept and dreamt that

Life was joy.

I awoke and found that

Life was duty

I Performed, and behold

Duty was Joy

The past is History

The future a Mystery

And the Present

Is a Gift of God”                

(by: Rabindrath Taqore)

Ladies and Gentlemen, while the boys remain seated, would you please rise and join me in a toast to the Class of 2015.

21 October 2015, Members Dining Room, MCG, Melbourne, Australia

Stephen Colbert: 'Like improv, you cannot win your life', Northwestern University - 2011

17 June, 2011, Northwestern University, Chicago, Illinois, USA

Good morning. Thank you President Schapiro, and my thanks Chairman of the Board of Trustees William Osborn and Provost Dan Linzer-

And thank you, parents! (claps) of course, if you don't thank them now, you'll have plenty of time to thank them tomorrow when you move back in with them. 

And since it's father's day weekend, let's show some special love to all the dads out there. (claps) Do something nice for dad today-  like before you introduce your boyfriend, ask him to remove his tongue ring.

And thank you to the class of 2011. (clap)

You are what some have called "the greatest generation". Not many - but some - so far just me. And I'm counting on you to not make me look like an idiot for saying that. So be great -no pressure.

I am humbled to be standing here with today's other honorary degree recipients.  William Schabas, human rights champion.  Who is here to invistigate Northwestern for cruelly allowing you to graduate into this job market. Doctor Barbara Liskov - the first woman to earn a PHD in computer science - I don't know how she could concentrate surrounded by all those notoriously sexy male programmers – and opera legend Jessye Norman, though that's actually kind of a disappointment- I normally start the speeches by singing Schubert's Ave Maria, but I don’t want to steal anybody's thunder. So I'm not going to do it today.

Now, as you have explained to your grandparents, my name is Stephen Colbert, but I also play a character on TV who is named Stephen Colbert. And I don't always know which of us has been invited someplace. Well, today, I'm fairly confident that I'm me.  Because I went to Northwestern and my character went to Dartmouth. So he was there for graduation last weekend and heard Conan. It was a great speech. But he was hoping for Leno.

I am honored to be your commencement speaker on this, the 25th anniversary of my graduating class.  Any fellow class of 86ers here today? Remember, later we're all gonna get together, put on some leg warmers, crank up our Sony Walkmen, and Wang Chung to Mr. Mister until the flock of seagulls come home.

But as honored as I am to be here, I am also a bit surprised to be your graduation speaker, considering that 25 years ago today, I did not actually graduate. I thought I was graduating-- my family was here, I was wearing this ridiculous medieval garb. But when I went up to get my diploma, and the dean, Cathy Martin, handed me the folder, she leaned in and said, "I’msorry." Now, I didn't know what this meant, but it didn't sound good. I was hoping it was was some new form of Latin honorific-- like summa cum laude-  "I'm sorry"-cum-laude.  But when I got back to my seat and opened the handsome pleather folder, instead of containing an embossed diploma, there was instead a piece of paper torn from a legal pad that said, "see me, Dean Cathy Martin."  Evidently I had an incomplete of which I was not aware. So, in my graduation photos with my family, I am sheepishly holding a scrap of yellow paper. The first member of my family to earn a scrap of yellow paper- the rest of them got diplomas. So, remember - just by graduating on your graduation day, you are starting your career way ahead of me. Be proud.

Because Northwestern is a school to be proud of.   In academics, athletics, science, and public service, it represents humanity at its best, and on Dillo Day, it represents humanity at its worst. For parents, Dillo day is a festival that started in 1972 to honor the armadillo...that is the best explanation I can offer. Today armadillos are honored by drinking 4loko out of a super soaker while dancing to the New Pornographers in a drunken mosh pit filled mostly with national merit finalists.

Northwestern's alumni list is truly impressive. This university has graduated bestselling authors, Olympians, Presidential candidates, Grammy winners, Peabody winners, Emmy winners, and that's just me!

I loved my time here - I was a transfer student from a small, all male college in Virginia, where I had been a philosophy major, but I decided to switch to something with stronger job prospects —  theatre major.

Which reminds me I forgot to warm up. [recites "admist the mists and coldest frosts with barest wrists and stoutest boasts he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts."]

I not only loved studying theatre, I loved being a theatre major. It gave me an excuse to brood, to grow a beard, to wear black "at" people. I didn't just want to play Hamlet, I wanted to be hamlet.

Northwestern's academic resources are unparalleled. The library contains 5 million books,  and 100,000 periodicals, none of which anyone reads because they're not on an iPad. Next year, I believe Deering library is being coverted into a chipotle.

Here's an interesting fact - a recent poll among private universities found that students at Northwestern have the lowest desire to have sex. I think that is possibly because this year, Northwestern offered some truly advanced instruction in human sexuality. I saw some photos of the lab equipment, and I'm thinking it may have scared you people off of sex forever.  It might actually have been a stealth abstinence program, or viral ad for true value hardware.  Graduates, good luck explaining what I'm talking about to your grandmother at brunch.

Still, that low sex drive is surprising, given that Evanston is riddled with brothels — oh yeah, they are out there — but thankfully this town is finally enforcing a century old city ordinance that prohibits more than three unrelated individuals from living together, lest they reach critical mass, and spontaneously prostitute themselves. I'm all for this law.  Can't be too careful. In this economy, running a brothel may be the most reliable work out there. And before everybody jumps on me, I am not saying that everybody at Northwestern will become prostitutes. Obviously the Kellogg graduates will become pimps. Expecting big things from you folks.

So you have a great town, a great school, a great life here. Maybe too great. Because I see evidence that since I left, Northwestern has gone soft. And don't go, ‘oh what's he talking about?’ you know exactly what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about: the snow day. You were hoping I hadn’t heard about that. On Wednesday, February 2nd,  2011, Northwestern was closed because of snow. 'Oh no!  What's that white stuff coming from the sky...in Chicago...in February!’ I'm sorry, that is weak.  Let me ask the alumni here: you ever have classes called because it was a little brisk outside? No! Cuz we were wildcats when wildcats were wildcats! For Pete's sake it's called Northwestern because when it was founded this was the Northwest Territories! Its first graduating class was offered double major in fur trapping and frost bite. And my first winter here, true story, I endured what is still the coldest day in Chicago history - January 20th, 1985.   Negative 27 degrees, negative 83 with the windchill, you weren't careful, your genitals could snap off like a Graham cracker. Did NU close? No! We went to class! Well, not me, I was a theatre major, and didn’t go to class that often. But I was supposed to! Have I mentioned that I finished college with an incomplete? 

And we didn't have cell phones.  If you made plans to meet someone in a snow storm, and they didn't show up, you just had to assume they were devoured by wolves and go on with your life.

And we couldn't text. And we certainly couldn't ‘sext’ each other. If you wanted to send someone a picture of your private parts, you had to fax it. That's how Kinkos got its name. You had to fill out a cover letter — it was embarrasing.

But the clearest example of how this once great institution has failed you students? In 1986, our commencement speaker was George Schultz, Secretary of State, fourth in line to the president. You get me — basic cable's second most popular fake newsman. At this rate the class of 2021 will be addressed by a zoo parrot in a mortar board that has been trained to say ‘congratulations.’

**********

But I'm not here to talk about me - I am here to inspire you by talking about me.

Fair warning: we are now entering the meaningful part of the speech: those of you who already have enough meaning in their lives can go do something else —maybe try to remember where you parked the rental car.

This spring, I participated in a sailing race from South Carolina half way across the Atlantic to Bermuda.  In many ways it was a beautiful journey, stars wheeling over head, whales breaching to starboard, which I think is over here. And in many other ways it was horrible. We were filthy and tired — for seven days none of us slept for more than three hours at a time. Which is how Stalin broke his enemies. And how infants break their parents.

We eventually made it to Bermuda,  and after a few days there, I came back home by plane. And looking out the window,  it felt completely artificial to fly over that same thousand miles of water that we just fought our way across inch by inch. The ease of coming back somehow made it that much harder to explain to friends what was it was like out there — what was lost and what was gained on that sublime and terrible trip. And in some ways, it feels just as artificial to fly back to this place after 25 years to try to tell you how to navigate the waters ahead.

Though it's tempting to think that I can.

Because like many people my age, I have fantasized about travelling back in time and giving advice to my younger self.  To stop young Stephen on a street corner, and say, ‘Break up with her, you idiot. Haven't you noticed that she's nicer to the dog?!’  or, "Buy real estate,’ or, ‘for god's sake, don't buy real estate!’

Or ‘under no circumstances should you wear white jeans. Even on a cruise. Also, don't go on a cruise.’

Or ‘wear sunscreen — having a tan looks nice now, but in twenty years, your face will look like a catcher's mitt.’

But I doubt my younger self would even listen to me. I'm sure he'd say ‘there's no way you could be me.  I have a chin.’ Plus, young me would never respect old me.  He's in the theatre.  I work in ‘TV’.  I'm a total sell-out.

So to recap: I'm going to try to give you, who for all intents and purposes are me 25 years ago, some advice that I probably won't get right, and you probably won't listen to. Ready?

Let's do this thing!

Ok: you have been told to follow your dreams.  But — what if it's a stupid dream? For instance Stephen Colbert of 25 years ago lived at 2015 North Ridge — with two men and three women — in what i now know was a brothel.  He dreamed of living alone. Well, alone with his beard — in a large,  barren loft apartment — lots of blond wood —wearing a kimono, with a futon on the floor, and a samovar of tea constantly bubbling in the background, doing Shakespeare in the street for the homeless. Today, I am a beardless, suburban dad who lives in a house, wears no-iron khakis, and makes Anthony Wiener jokes for a living. And I love it. Because thankfully dreams can change.  If we'd all stuck with our first dream, the world would be overrun with cowboys and princesses. 

So whatever your dream is right now, if you don't achieve it, you haven't failed, and you're not some loser. But just as importantly — and this is the part I may not get right and you may not listen to — if you do get your dream, you are not a winner.

After I graduated from here, I moved down to Chicago and did improv. Now there are very few rules to improvisation, but one of the things I was taught early on is that you are not the most important person in the scene. Everybody else is. And if they are the most important people in the scene, you will naturally pay attention to them and serve them. But the good news is you're in the scene too. So hopefully to them you're the most important person, and they will serve you. No one is leading, you're all following the follower, serving the servant. You cannot win improv.

And life is an improvisation. You have no idea what's going to happen next and you are mostly just making things up as you go along.

And like improv, you cannot win your life.

Even when it might look like you're winning.  I have my own show, which I love doing. Full of very talented people ready to serve me. And it's great. But at my best, I am serving them just as hard, and together, we serve a common idea, in this case the character Stephen Colbert, who it's clear, isn't interested in serving anyone. And a sure sign that things are going well is when no one can really remember whose idea was whose, or who should get credit for what jokes.

Though naturally I take credit for all of them. 

But if we should serve others, and together serve some common goal or idea — for any one you, what is that idea? And who are those people?

In my experience, you will truly serve only what you love, because, as the prophet says, service is love made visible.

If you love friends, you will serve your friends.

If you love community, you will serve your community.

If you love money, you will serve your money.

And if you love only yourself, you will serve only yourself. And you will have only yourself.

So no more winning. Instead, try to love others and serve others, and hopefully find those who love and serve you in return.

In closing, I'd like to apologize for being predictable. The New York Times has analyzed the hundreds of commencement speeches given so far in 2011, and found that ‘love,’ and ‘service’ were two of the most used words.

I can only hope that because of my speech today, the word ‘brothel’ comes in a close third.

Thank you for the honor of addressing you, and congratulations to the class of 2011.

Robert De Niro: 'You made it! And you’re f*cked!’, TISCH School of the Arts - 2015

22 May, 2015, TISCH School of the Arts, Madison Square Garden, Yew York City, USA

Dean Green, deans, University Leadership, faculty, staff, parents, friends, and the 2015 class of New York University’s TISCH School of the Arts.

Thank you for inviting me to celebrate with you today.  TISCH graduates, you made it!

And you’re fucked. Think about that. The graduates from the college of nursing, they all have jobs. The graduates from the college of dentistry, fullyemployed. The Leonard M Stern School of Business graduates, they’re covered. The School of Medicine graduates, each one will get a job. The proud graduates of the NY School of Law, they’re covered, and if they’re not, who cares? They’re lawyers. The English majors are not a factor. They’ll be home writing their novels. Teachers, they’ll all be working. Shitty jobs, lousy pay, but still working. The graduates in accounting they all have jobs. Where does that leave you? Envious of those accountants, I doubt that. They had a choice. Maybe they were passionate about accounting, but I think it’s more likely that they used reason and logic and common sense to reach for a career that could give them the expectation of success and stability. Reason, logic, common sense? At the TISCH School of Arts? Are you kidding me?

But you didn’t have that choice, did you? You discovered a talent, recognised your ambition and developed a passion. When you feel that you can’t fight it, you just go with it. When it comes to the arts, passion should always trump common sense. You aren’t just following dreams, you’re reaching for your destiny. You’re a dancer, a singer, a choreographer, a musician, a film maker, a writer, a photographer, a director, a producer, an actor, an artist. Yeah, you’re fucked!

The good news is that that’s not a bad place to start. Now that you’ve made your choice, or rather, succumbed to it, your path is clear. Not easy but clear. You have to keep working, it’s that simple. You got through TISCH, that’s a big deal, or to put it another way, you got through TISCH, big deal. Well it’s a start. On this day of triumphantly graduating a new door is opening for you. A door to a lifetime of rejection. It’s inevitable. It’s what graduates call the ‘the real world’. You’ll experience it auditioning for a part or a place in a company.  It’ll happen to you when you’re looking for backers for a project. You’ll feel it when door close on you when you’re trying to get attention for something you have written, and when you’re looking for a directing or choreographing job.

How do you cope with it? I hear that valium and vicodin work! Nyah, I dunno. You can’t be too relaxed when you do what we do. And you don’t wanna block the pain too much. Without the pain, what would we talk about. I would make an exception to having a couple of drinks, if hypothetically, you had to speak to a couple of thousand graduates and their families at a commencement ceremony. [takes swig]

Rejection might sting, but my feeling is that it often has very little to do with you. When you’re auditioning or pitching the director or producer or investor might just have something or someone different in mind, that’s just how it is. That happened to me recently when I audtioned for the role of Martin Luther King in Selma.  Which is too bad because I could have played the hell out of that part. I felt it was written for me. But the director had something different in mind. And you know, she was right. It seems the director is always right. Don’t get me wrong, David O’Yelowo was great. I don’t think I would have cast it great ..

I got two more stories, these really happened.

I read for Bang The Drum Slowly, seven times. The first two of the three times I read for the part of Henry Wiggins, the part eventually played by Michael Moriaty. I read for the director, I read for the producer, then they had me back to read for another part, the role of Bruce Pearson, I read for the director, I read for the producer, I read for the producer and his wife, I read for all of them together. It was almost like as long as I kept auditioning,  they would have time to find somebody they liked more. I don’t know exactly what they were looking for, but I’m glad I was there when they didn’t find it.

Another time I was auditioning for a play, they kept having me back and I was pretty sure I had the part, and then they went with a name. I hated losing the job, but I understood.

I could just as easily have lost the job to another no name actor, and I also would have understood. It’s just not personal. It can just mean nothing more than the director having another type in mind. You’ll get a lot of direction in your careers, some from directors, some from studio heads, some from money people, some from writers, although usually they’ll try to keep the writer at a distance. And some from your fellow artists. I love writers, by they way, I keep them on the set all the time.

Listen to all of it, and listen to yourself. I’m mostly going to talk about these ideas in movie actor terms, but this applies to all of you. You’ll find comparable situations in all the disciplines. The way the director gets to be right is that you help him or her be right. You may start out with different ideas, the director will have a vision, you will have ideas about your character. When you’re a young actor starting out, your ideas might not be trusted as much they will be later on in your career. You’ve been hired because the director saw something in your audition, your reading, in you that fit they’re concept. You may be given the opportunity to try it your way, but the final decision will be the director’s.

Later in your career when there’s a body of work to refer to, the may be more trust from the director but it’s pretty much the same thing. You may have more opportunities to try things your way, and you may think the director has agreed to your take, agreed your take is the best, but if it’s a movie, you’ll be nowhere near the editing room when the director makes the final decision. It’s best when you can work it out together.

As an actor, you always want to be true to your character and be true to yourself. But the bottom line is, you got the part. And that’s very important. As a director ora producer you also have to be true to yourself, and to the work. A film a dance a play, they are not tents where artists gets to play and express their individuality, they’re works of art that depend upon the contributions and collaboration of a group of artists. And it’s a big group, that includes production and costume designers, directors of photography, makeup and hair, stage managers, assistant directors, choreographers et cetera et et cetera many more I could name but I won’t now. Everyone plays an important part, an essential part. A director, producer, choreographer or company artistic director – these are powerful positions. But the power doesn’t come from the title. The power doesn’t come from the title, the power come from trust, respect, vision, work and again collaboration. You’ll probably be harder on yourself than any director. I’m not going to tell you to go easy on yourselves, I assume you didn’t pick this life because you thought it would be easy. You may have to answer to a director for a job but you also have to answer to yourself.

This could create conflicts for you. You may want to play the role your way and the director has a different idea. Discuss it with the director, maybe there’s a compromise, there always should be the space to try to both ways. But don’t make ... don’t make a production ... but don’t make ... [pauses – smiles] but don’t make a production out of it because it’s not a democracy. On the set, or on the stage, somebody has to make the final decision. Someone has to pull it all together - that’s the director. So don’t be obdurate. Nobody’s going to see you do it in the‘right way’ if you’re not on stage or in the movie.

I can answer the question that is on all of your minds right now. Yes, it’s too late to change your major to directing. While preparing for my role today, I asked a few TISCH students for directions for this speech. The first thing they said was keep it short. And they said it’s okay to give a bit of advice, it’s kind of expected and no one will mind. And then they said, to keep it short.

It’s difficult for me to come with advice for you who have already set upon your life’s work, but I can tell you some of the things I tell my own children. First, whatever you do, don’t go to TISCH School of the Arts. Get an accounting degree instead.

Then I contradict myself, and as corny as it sounds, I tell them don’t be afraid to fail. I urge them to take chances, to keep an open mind, to welcome new experiences and new ideas. I tell them that if you don’t go, you’ll never know. You just have to be bold and go out there and take your chances. I tell them that if they go into the arts, I hope they find a nurturing and challenging community of like minded individuals, a place like TISCH. If they find themselves with the talent and the burning desire to be in the performing arts, I tell them when you collaborate, you try to make everything better but you’re not responsible for the entire project, only your part in it. You’ll find yourself in movies or plays or concerts or dance pieces that turn out in the eyes of critics and audiences to be bad, but that’s not on you, because you will put everything into everything that you do. You won;t judge the characters you play, and shouldn’t bedistracted by judgments on the works you are in. Whether you are working for Ed Wood of Federico Fellini or Martin Scorsese, your commitment to your process will be the same. 

By the way there will be times when your best is not enough. There can be many reasons for this, but as long as you give your best, it’ll be okay. Did you get straight As at school? If so, good for you, congratulations, but in the real world you’ll never get straight As again. There are ups and there are downs. And what I want to say to you today is that it’s okay. Instead of rocking caps and gowns today I can see all of you graduating today in custom TSOA T-shirts. On the back is printed, ‘Rejection - it isn’t personal’. And on the front - your motto, your mantra, your battle cry, ‘Next!’ You didn’t get that part, that’s my point, ‘Next’, you’ll get the next one, or the next one after that. You didn’t get that waiter’s job at the White Oak tavern, next! You’ll get the next one, or you’ll get the next gig tending bar at Joseph’s. You didn’t get into Juilliard? Next! You’ll get into Yale or TISCH. You guys like that joke, so it’s okay.

No, of course choosing TISCH is like choosing the arts. It isn’t your first choice, it’s your only choice. I didn’t attend TISCH or for that matter any college, or my senior year of high school, or most of my junior year ... still I’ve felt like part of the TISCH community for a long time. I grew up in the same neighborhood as TISCH. I’ve worked for a lot of people who have attended TISCH, including Marty Scorsese, Class of ’64. As you learn your craft together you come to trust each other and depend on each other. This encourages taking creative risks, because you all have the sense that you’re in it together. It’s no surprise that we often work with the same people over and over. I did eight pictures with Marty, and plan to do more. He did about twenty five with his editor, Thelma Schoonmaker, whom he met at TISCH when she worked on his student film in the summer of ‘63. Other directors - Cassavetes, Fellini, Hitchcock, came back to the same collaborators over and over, almost like a repertoire company. And now David O Russell and Wes Anderson are continuing that tradition.

Treasure the associations and friendships and working relationships with the people in your classes in your early work. You never know what might come from them. There could be a major creative shift or a small detail that could make a major impression. In Taxi Driver, Marty and I wanted Travis Bickle to cut his hair into a mohawk. An important character detail, but I couldn’t do it because I needed long hair for The Last Tycoon that was starting right after Taxi Driver, and we knew a false Mohawk would look, well, false. So we were kicking it around one day at lunch and we decided to give it one shot with the very best makeup artist at the time, Dick Smith. If you saw the movie, you’ll know that it worked. And by the way, now you know it wasn’t real.

Friendships, good working relationships, collaboration, you just never know what’s going to happen when you get together with your creative friends. Marty Scorsese was here last year to speak to your 2014 graduates. And now here I am, here we are, on Friday, at a kind of super sized version of one of Alison’s student lounge hangout sessions.  You're here  to pause and celebrate your accomplishments so far, as you move on to a rich and challenging future. And me - I’m here to hand out my picture and resume to the directing and producing graduates.

I’m excited to be in a room of young creatives who make me hopeful about the future of the performing and media arts and I know you’re going to make it, all of you. Break a leg!

Next!

Thank you.

Will Ferrell: 'Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind', Harvard, 2003

June 4, 2003, Harvard, Boston, USA

This is not the Worcester, Mass Boat Show, is it? I am sorry. I have made a terrible mistake. Ever since I left “Saturday Night Live,” I mostly do public speaking now. And I must have made an error in the little Palm Pilot. Boy. Don’t worry. I got it on me. I got the speech on me. Let’s see. Ah, yes. Here we go.

You know, when Bill Gates first called me to speak to you today, I was honored. But when he wanted me to be one of the Roxbury guys, I — Sorry, that’s Microsoft. I’m sorry about that. Star Trek Convention. No. NRA. NAACP. Dow Chemical. No. But that is a good one. That is a good speech. The University of Michigan Law. Johns Hopkins Medical School. I’m sorry. Are you sure this is not the boat show? No, I have it. I do have it on me. I do. It’s here. Thank you.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Distinguished Faculty, Administrators, Friends and Family and, of course, the graduating Class of 2003, I wish to say hello and thank you for bestowing this honor upon me as your Class Day speaker. After months of secret negotiations, several hundred secret ballots, and a weekend retreat with Vice President Dick Cheney in his secret mountain bunker, a Class Day speaker was chosen, and it was me. You obviously have made a grave error. But it’s too late now. So let’s just go with it.

Today’s speech is going to be a little different, a little unorthodox. Some of you may find it to be shocking. I’m not going to stand up here and try to be funny. Because even though I am a professional comedian of the highest caliber, I’ve decided to do one thing that a lot of people are probably afraid to do, and that’s give it to you straight.

As most of you are probably aware, I didn’t graduate from Harvard. In fact, I never even got a call back from Admissions. Damn you, Harvard! Damn you! I told myself I would not get emotional today. But damn it, I’m here, and sometimes it’s just good to cry.

I’m not one of you. Okay? I can’t relate to who you are and what you’ve been through. I graduated from the University of Life. All right? I received a degree from the School of Hard Knocks. And our colors were black and blue, baby. I had office hours with the Dean of Bloody Noses. All right? I borrowed my class notes from Professor Knuckle Sandwich and his Teaching Assistant, Ms. Fat Lip Thon Nyun. That’s the kind of school I went to for real, okay?

So my gift to you, Class of 2003, is to tell you about the real world through my eyes, through my experiences. And I’m sorry, but I refuse to sugarcoat it. I ain’t gonna do it. And I probably shouldn’t use the word “ain’t” during this day in which we celebrate education. But that’s just the way I play it, Homes.

Graduates, if you will indulge me for a moment, let me paint a picture of what it’s like out there. The last four or, for some of you, five years you’ve been living in a fantasyland, running around, talking about Hemingway, or Clancy, or, I don’t know, I mean whatever you read here at Harvard. The Novelization of the Matrix, I don’t know. I don’t know what you do here.

But I do know this. You’re about to enter into a world filled with hypocrisy and doublespeak, a world in which your limo to the airport is often a half-hour late. In addition to not even being a limo at all; often times it’s a Lincoln Towncar. You’re about to enter a world where you ask your new assistant, Jamie, to bring you a tall, non-fat latte. And he comes back with a short soy cappuccino. Guess what, Jamie? You’re fired. Not too hard to get right, my friend.

A world where your acting coach, Bob Leslie-Duncan — yes, the Bob Leslie-Duncan — tells you time and time again that you will never, ever be considered as a dramatic actor because you don’t play things real, and are too over the top. Amazing! Simply amazing!

I’m sorry, graduates. But this is a world where you aren’t allowed to use your cell phone in airplanes, during live theater, at the movies, at funerals, or even during your own elective surgery. Apparently, the Berlin Wall went back up because we now live in Russia. I mean just try lighting up a cigar in a movie theater or paying for a dinner for 20 friends with an autograph. It ain’t that easy. Strong words, I know. Tough talk. But more like tough love. Because this is where my faith in you guys comes into play, Harvard University’s graduating Class of 2003, without a doubt, the finest, most talented group of sexual beings this great land has to offer.

Now I know I blew some of your minds with my depiction of what it’s really like out there. But if anyone can handle the ups and downs of this crazy blue marble we call Planet Earth, it’s you guys. As I stare out into this vast sea of shining faces, I see the best and brightest. Some of you will be captains of industry and business. Others of you will go on to great careers in medicine, law and public service. Four of you — and I’m not at liberty to say which four — will go on to magnificent careers in the porno industry. I’m not trying to be funny. That’s just a statistical fact.

One of you, specifically John Lee, will spend most of your time just hanging out in your car eating nachos. You will all come back from time to time to this beautiful campus for reunions, and ask the question, “Does anyone ever know what happened to John Lee?” At that point, he will invariably pop out from the bushes and yell, “Nachos anyone?!” At first, it will scare the crap out of you. But then you’ll share a laugh with your classmates and ultimately look forward to John jumping out of the bushes as a yearly event.

I’d like to change gears here, if I could. Talk a little bit about “Saturday Night Live.” Now, during my 18-year stint on the show, I had the chance to play or impersonate some very interesting people, none more interesting than our current President, Mr. George W. Bush. Now in some cases, you actually have contact with some of the people you play. As a byproduct of this former situation, the President and myself have become quite good friends. In fact, I might even call him a father figure of sorts, granted a dim-witted father figure who likes to take a lot of naps and start wars, but a father figure nonetheless.

When I told the President that I’d be speaking here today, he wondered if I would express some sentiments to you. And I said I’d do my best. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to read this message from the President of the United States.

Students, Faculty, Families and Distinguished Guests, I just want to take time to congratulate you on your outstanding achievement as graduates of the Class of 2002. The great thing about being the Class of 2002 is that you can always remember what year you graduated because 2002 is a palindrome which, of course, is a word or number that is the same read backwards or forwards. I’ll bet you’re surprised I know that word, but I do. So you can suck on it.

Make no mistake, Harvard University is one of the finest in the land. And its graduates are that fine as well. You’re young men and women whose exuberance exude a confident confidence of a bygone era. I believe it was Shakespeare who said it best when he said, “Look yonder into the darkness for knowledge onto which I say go onto that which thou possess into thy night for thee have come with only a single sword and vanquished thee into darkness.”

I’m going to be honest with you, I just made that up. But I don’t know how to delete it from the computer. Tomorrow’s graduation day speaker is former President of Mexico Ernesto Zedillo. Ernie’s a good man, a deeply religious man, and one of the original members of the Latino boy band Menudo. So listen up to Ernie. He was at the beginning of the whole boy band explosion.

As you set off into the world, don’t be afraid to question your leaders. But don’t ask too many questions at one time or that are too hard because your leaders get tired and/or cranky. All of you sitting here have the brightest of futures ahead. Many of you will go on to stellar careers and various pursuits. And four of you — and I’m not at liberty to say which four — will go on to star in the porno industry.

One of the challenges you will be faced with is finding a job in our depressed economy. In fact, the chances of landing a decent job are about as good as finding weapons of mass destruction in the Iraqi desert. Slim and none. And Slim just left the building. In fact, the closest thing I found to looking like a weapon of mass destruction is the turd that Dick Cheney left in the Oval Office toilet about an hour ago. Man, that thing is a WMD if I’ve ever seen one. On that note, God bless and happy graduation.

You know, I sincerely hope you enjoy this next chapter of your life because it’s really going to be great, as long as you pay your taxes. And don’t just take a year off because you think Uncle Sam is snoozing at the wheel because he will descend upon you like a hawk from hell. Let’s just put it this way. After some past indiscretions with the IRS, my take-home pay last year was $9,000.

I figured I’d leave you today with a song, if you will. So, Jeff, if you could come up here. Jeff Heck, everyone. Please welcome one of your fellow graduates. Jeff is, of course, from Eliot House. You know what you guys? You guys at Eliot House, give yourselves a nice round of applause because you had the head lice scare this year, and it shut you down for most of last semester. But you didn’t mind the tents they set up for you, and you were just troopers. You really were.

Anyway, here’s a song that I think really captures the essence of the Harvard experience. It goes a little like this.

[SINGING]
I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment’s gone,
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity.
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.
Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea,
All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see.
Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind.

Okay, you know what? I’m just realizing that this is a terrible graduation song. Once again, I’m sorry. This is the first time I’ve actually listened to the lyrics. Man, it’s a downer. It’s bleak.

Boy, I want to finish this. Just give me a minute, and let me figure out how to fix this thing. Okay. I think I got it.

[SINGING]
Now don’t hang on, nothing lasts forever but the Harvard alumni endowment fund.
It adds up, has performed at 22 percent growth over the last six years.
Dust in the wind, you’re so much more than dust in the wind.
Dust in the wind, you’re shiny little very smart pieces of dust in the wind.

Thank you. Good luck. And have a great day tomorrow.

Seth Macfarlane: 'I created a TV show where a vaudeville-era barbershop quartet sings a song about AIDS' Harvard, 2006

26 June, 2006, Harvard, Boston, USA

Thank you very much. I tell you, there is nowhere I’d rather be on a day like this but around all of this electrical equipment .Good afternoon, distinguished academics. My name is Seth MacFarlane, and for those of you who recognize me, I’d like to say: Mom, Dad, Paris, thanks for coming but please wait in the car.

Now I know that many of you know me only for my voice, and it may be a bit jarring to see me speak in person. You’re thinking to yourself: “Boy, it’s strange to hear that voice coming out of that face,” you’re thinking to yourselves. In that sense, I’m a lot like Celine Dion. I’m not calling her silly-looking but if you meet her in person, I’ll give you a dollar if you can find her nose.

To tell the truth, I don’t know why you guys invited me. I mean, this is Harvard. This is the most prestigious college in the world. I went to the Rhode Island School of Design: an art school whose only athletic institution is a hockey team called the Nads and the mascot is a giant penis named Scrotie. Go to a game; I swear I’m not making that up. Harvard has created brilliant throngs of brilliant doctors, lawyers, authors, scientists; I created a TV show where a vaudeville-era barbershop quartet sings a song about AIDS. Your grandchildren will boast impressive salaries and trust funds. My grandchildren will owe money to the FCC.

But one thing we do have in common is the glittering jewel that is New England. Like many of you, I hail from this great region, Connecticut, to be precise and while I treasure my formative years in the land of chowd-ah, lobst-ah, and gonorrhe-ah, boy, that’s two STD jokes in the first five minutes, I should’ve proofread this thing. I’m here to tell you about the place I live in now: the real world.

There’s no dress rehearsal, no take-home tests, no rough drafts. If you unconstitutionally wiretap people’s phones, you’ll be taken down. If you shoot someone in the face with a shotgun, you’ll reap the consequences. If you illegally invade a sovereign nation to secure oil interests and assuage a personal vendetta, you’ll be re-elected.

But I’m not here to bludgeon you with my political beliefs; I’m not here to slam current, former, and undeserving celebrities. No, I’m here because I have great love and respect for this fine establishment. You see, it was always a fantasy — no, a fetish — of mine to be a Harvard student. So, for the last four years, I have secretly been living amongst you: eating in your dining halls, attending your classes, sleeping with your women and in a tragic case of miscommunication, sleeping with Lawrence Summers. Although, God bless him, the man has the hands of a prison doctor.

And what I’ve learned from my undercover expedition into your tributary civilization of advanced physics, law, biology, business, economics, and weed, I know, it seems off that that would be a major, but it’s actually very interesting. Classes are held at Cabot House.

What I’ve learned is that you like Family Guy. So I could stand up here and drone on for the next 15 minutes, but I know that’s not what you want. You’re like my mother in that you don’t want to hear from me. You just want to hear the voices. So I’d like to turn things over to my colleague from TV Land, to offer you his perspective on your progress.

PETER GRIFFIN: Greetings, citizens of Harvard. As I look out on this sea of black Asian faces, I think to myself one thought: “Take that, Hitler” because we won. Yeah!

Harvard is pound-for-pound the smartest of all your freaking schools. In fact, I hope one day my son Chris will go to Harvard. Okay, I’m just jacking myself off there, but maybe one of my kids, I mean, Meg’s got the look of a Harvard gal but I’m not sure she’s got the brains going on. She’d probably do better at one of those real lesbian colleges like Smith or Yale.

Now I know some of you stuffier types are probably thinking: Who the hell does Peter Griffin think he is, preaching to us? He didn’t even finish college. Well, I can drink a case of Budweiser in 10 minutes flat, so stuff it up your Dockers, Mr. Wadsworth Douchington V.

But the rest of you seem like stand-up guys and girls and tomorrow, you smart kids are going to be sitting there in your cool caps and gowns, looking like that owl on the Wise potato chip bags. I see you out there, thinking, ponderig’, pontificating, using words like “subterfuge,” “fuselage,” and “MSNBC.” You remind me of the many smart young people I know: DoogieHowser, Malcolm in the Middle, and Donatello of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and we need more smart people like you. You know? I mean, I get into my car every morning and I think: “How does my car work? What makes it move? I get in this thing and it just goes? How the hell does that happen? I don’t understand but you guys do and for that, I walk in your fucking shadow.

The next wave of great inventions is going to come from you guys. I mean, how many times have you said, “I’d like some cheese right now.” And before smart people came along, you had to wait for a cow to die and rot in the sun or something. But now? Bam! Aerosol cheese. Cheese that sprays out of, like, a paint can. You know? Whoever invented spray cheese had to have been a Harvard guy. Or let’s say you see a commercial for one of them Soloflex things, and you want to order one so you can get in shape even though everybody says you got to be gay to have a Soloflex, but I don’t think you got to be gay to have a Soloflex. So you run to get a pencil to write down that phone number, and you trip and fall and hurt your knee. Well, before smart people came along, you had to sit there in pain just going (inhale) AAHHHH! (inhale) AAHHHH! But now? Band-Aids, had to be a Harvard guy

You know, I never stood in front of so many smart people before. Who knows? Sitting out there in that audience may be a future President of the United States. And when he’s elected, you’ll say, “THAT guy?? Barry?? The guy who walked down the hallway freshman year with his nuts hanging out? HE’S the President now?? The guy who crapped his pants at the Fly Club? And he didn’t even go home after that? He sat there and had four more beers and then he went home with that chick from Amherst? That guy who

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passed out in the showers and then we wrote all over him with Magic Marker? And he walked around for two days with the faded word “douchebag” written on his forehead, and he had no idea? I used to pee in that guy’s shampoo bottle! And now he’s president? The American people just elected President Pee Head?”

But at least you guys will have the goods on him. You can call him and say, “Hey President Pee Head, I peed in your shampoo, so make me Secretary of something.” And it’ll turn out that peeing in some guy’s shampoo bottle was the best career move you ever made. That’s how life works sometimes. I like to think there are no dumb ideas.

But listen, as smart as you kids are, you don’t get too high and mighty, because I happen to know a certain sandy-haired janitor who’s smarter than all of you put together. That’s right. The guy who solved that math problem was a janitor. And we all know what that got him: a date with Minnie Driver and that big Easter Island head of hers. Yeah, Minnie, I said it. Let me put it this way: You like apples? Well, your face is freakishly big for your head, so how do you like those apples? Man, that movie sucked.

So, I know most of you will be shipping off to fight the war in Iraq, and others will be doing missionary work in Africa, but remember, some of you, that Wall Street is still an option. Don’t rule it out, because it’s a noble profession. Goldman Sachs needs people, too.

And here’s a tip for you: Digital. Just think about that. The future is going digital. I don’t know what that means, but just remember who told that to you.

Well, that’s about it for me, I got to run; TBS is showing that episode of Different Strokes where Arnold and Dudley get inappropriately touched by the guy from WKRP in Cincinnati. So, I’m going to pass it over to Stewie, but let me leave you with piece of advice: it’s a very simple piece of advice, and each person here will interpret it in their own way. And it is this: “Hehehehehehehe.” Good day to you.

STEWIE: Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. It is indeed an honor to address the denizens of the hallowed grounds of Harvard: where boys can be boys, girls can be girls, and those in between can create student groups to feel better about their lack of romantic options.

So, it’s one day before graduation. That’s one more night to get that roommate to kill himself so you can get straight A’s. You might want to remind him how he never got laid, and how these were the best years. Tap him on the shoulder and remind him that his parents didn’t come today, and if worse comes to worst, push him out the goddamn window.

Now, I may not be the hippest cat in the world, but I do know something about the way you college students think. And I know who your heroes are. And at the top of that list is a fellow whom you regard as the very epitome of the cutting edge of “cool.” The trends that he sets, you follow without question. And when he opens his mouth, you young people take it as gospel. Of course, I’m talking about your precious paragon of current popular culture: the Fonz.

Well, let me tell you this: he doesn’t know everything. He drives a motorcycle, which is incredibly dangerous, he wears his trousers too tight, which inhibits sperm production, and friends, if you hit a jukebox with your fist, you’re just going to break it.

So, suffice it to say, I know how your minds work. And I know what you’re thinking on this day of your advancement into adulthood. You’re wondering to yourselves, “What can I expect from the outside world? Will I find my niche? What should I know about the vast territory that lies beyond the confines of my little subculture of textbooks, ramen noodles, coin-operated laundry, and TV shows that seem to think they can skate by with random jokes about giant chickens that have absolutely nothing to do with the overall narrative?” The boys at South Park are absolutely correct. Those cutaways and flashbacks have nothing to do with the story. They’re just there to be funny. And that is a shallow indulgence that South Park is quite above. And for that, I salute them.

But to my point: what is out there? Well, I can’t tell you all the correct paths to traverse, but I can tell you some things to avoid.

Number one: Don’t get a tattoo of a Chinese character on your fanny if you don’t understand the language. Tattoo removal services are making a killing off of people’s stupidity, because Little Miss Individuality walks into the tattoo parlor and gets an Asian symbol she thinks means “Spiritual Woman” but that she late finds out means “Sugar Substitute.”

Number two: Don’t be taken in by idiotic popular songs that profess to be deeper than they are. Last year, Gwen Stefani released a little ditty entitled “Hollaback Girl”. A few weeks later, she was asked during an interview, “What does ‘Hollaback Girl’ mean?” To which she replied, “What do you think it means?” So, apparently each of us was invited to create our own translation was for what she is saying to us. My translation is: “Hey Stewie, it’s Gwen. Would you please send me a bird flu sandwich?”

Number three: Stay away from the church. In the battle over science vs. religion, science offers credible evidence for all the serious claims it makes. The church says, “Oh, it’s right here in this book, see? The one written by people who thought the sun was magic?” I for one would like to see some proof that there is a God. And if you, “a baby’s smile,” I’m going to kick you right in the stomach.

Number four: Always have at least one friend who’s a Jew.

Number five: Do not create a television series about a group of people who crash land on an island if you don’t know where you’re going with it. Don’t just make it up as you go along, because if you do, it’s going to start sucking very quickly. I’m talking of course about Desperate Housewives, which is just awful. Teri Hatcher, you’re a beautiful woman, but please grow old gracefully, and without the facial work. You’re not allowed to have an exoskeleton unless you’re a beetle.

Number six: If you ever fall into a deep depression and nothing can cheer you up, don’t give up hope. Just remember that the man who played Mr. Belvedere once sat on his own balls had to be rushed to the hospital, which is absolutely hilarious.

Number seven: Do not get into politics in Florida, because you might accidentally run into Katherine Harris. This is a woman who could stand next to Hitler, and people would say, “Who’s the bitch?”

Number eight: Do not wear a wool cap indoors in the middle of summer unless you are either a douchebag or Colin Farrell. Yes, Colin, I see you there with your wool cap. Whatcha got goin’ on under that wool cap, hm? Thinkin’ about your sideburns? Oh, and it looks like you’ve got a little rip in your jeans there too. Yeah, that’s rebellious. You’re a bad boy. Society wants your jeans to be intact, but you’ll have none of it will you?

But you know, looking out there into the audience, I see so many bright young faces, poised and ready to thrust themselves into the very hearts of American’s political and financial institutions, and seize control of the levers of power at any cost. Some would call you elitist, over privileged, and preening with a snotty sense of entitlement. I call you my base.

Now, I can see by the looks on your faces that some of you disagree with me. You think you can hold onto those lofty visions of a life of nobility, hm? Still have your ideals, do you? Gonna use that big brains of yours to make a difference? Gonna make the world a better place? Be an agent for change? Volunteer? Gonna get a job in the public sector? Sacrifice the big bucks ‘cause that doesn’t matter to you? Maybe spend a few years in the Peace Corps? Save the whales, maybe? Maybe join the Environmental Defense Council? Recycle? Gonna, gonna go out and clean up a few polluted rivers like JFK, Jr.? Live in a tree? Volunteer for Legal Aide for the underprivileged? Go to Africa? No, you’re gonna sell out.

And now, brave graduates, I shall pass the verbal baton to our final speaker.

QUAGMIRE: Gentlemen and co-eds, I’d like to wish you all a good giggity, and to tell you that it is an honor to be standing before you today at this fine establishment. I feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment being here, because I’ve banged chicks in every school in the Ivy League except Harvard. You are by far the toughest to get into.

I’ll keep my remarks brief today, because I’m meeting two women and an animal handler at Hong Kong’s in about 20 minutes. Heh, heh, all-right.

Last time I was here, I had sex with a woman at the New England Aquarium, where it’s fun to find out. In fact, when I come to Boston, I sleep with a different woman every night of the week except Wednesday because in Boston’s historic North End, Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day.

I respect education. And I’ve drawn deep inspiration from the classics. As my favorite poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said, “It’s going to tempt your tummy with the taste of nuts and honey. It’s a honey of an O, its Honey Nut Cheerios.” And if I may, I would like to paraphrase Dickens, but instead of Christmas traditions, I am speaking today of vaginas when I say, “They have never put one scrap of gold in my pocket, but they bring a smile to my face, so therefore I declare them good.”

If there’s one message I can leave you with this afternoon, it is this: Although you are graduating and moving on to those uncharted new frontiers of adult life, never leave behind that sense of experimentation, that bareback sense of adventure and openness. Stay young, and keep looking at the world with a sense of wide-legged wonder. Giggity, giggity and good luck to you all.

Thank you, Harvard!

Mindy Kaling: 'I do know a ton about the law because I sue everyone', Harvard Law School, 2014

2014 Harvard Law School, USA

Graduates, parents, faculty, this is really such a remarkable day—obviously for you, but also for me, because after spending a life obsessing over true crime, the impossible happened: I was asked to speak at the Harvard Law commencement and accept an honorary legal degree. Yes, isn’t that the American dream? Me, Mindy Kaling—

[Kaling is interrupted, and informed that she was misinformed.]

OK, um, so apparently there was a little miscommunication. I am no longer Mindy Kaling, esquire-attorney-at-law-comedian-actress. That’s cool, I’m just supposed to stand up here and give funny remarks, and then I’m supposed to sit down… That doesn’t seem fair, but that’s OK, I’ll do that.

I know what you’re probably thinking: Mindy Kaling, why did they ask her? She’s just a pretty Hollywood starlet. What does that quadruple threat know about the law?

Sure, she seems really down to earth and pretty in a totally accessible way. And, yeah, she was on People magazine’s Most Beautiful People list this year—and also in 2008—but what intelligent remarks could she possibly make about the law? She’s probably too busy doing shampoo commercials.

But I’m not too busy. In fact, I would kill to do a shampoo commercial. So if anyone from L’Oreal is out there, please just Snapchat me after this.

But, I'll have you know, I do know a ton about the law because I sue everyone. And excuse me, there is a burger named after me at Bartley's and they have guaranteed me that it is going to be there until another tertiary member of the cast of the office get their own tv show. And they don't just name burgers after anyone. Noted chef Guy Fieri has one, noted drunk driver Justin Bieber has one, ok, so that's pretty good company, thank you.

Look, on the surface, I get that it would appear that I am an unconventional choice to speak here today. To be honest, I don't know much about the law.

I graduated in 2001 from Dartmouth College, an academic institution located in lawless rural New Hampshire, where when you arrive, you are given a flask of moonshine and a box of fireworks, and you are told simply to, quote, “Go to town”—except there is no town, there is only a forest and a row of frat houses that smell like urine.

Actually, little known fact, Dartmouth has a law school—it’s just one semester, and its coursework is entirely centered on how to beat a DUI.

But I am not here to extoll the virtues of the Dartmouth Red Bull School of Law. I'm here to talk to you. So, even though I have no idea why I was asked to speak here today, I prepared a speech very carefully the way that any good Dartmouth-educated graduate would. I drank a 40 of Jagermeister. I called my dad to see if he would get me out of it—he could not… I tried to hire a college freshman to write it for me in exchange for a $200 gift card to Newbury Comics—that didn’t work out.

Finally, seeing that I absolutely had to do this and could not get out of it, I rolled up my sleeves, sat down at my computer, and tried to buy a commencement address off of movingcommencementspeeches.com. My credit card was declined.

There are many many distinguished speakers who has spoken here. I am sharing a stage with Preet Bharara. We've all heard what a great guy he is. In 2012, he was named by Time Magazine as one of the 101 most influential people in the world. Which apparently, they're just giving out.

According to Time, Bharara has battled terrorism, as evidenced by the conviction of the Times Square bomber. He has crippled international arms dealers, drug traffickers, and dealt with financial fraud. Clearly, Harvard wanted you to see the full range of what India can produce here.

Mr. Bharara fights finance criminals and terrorism. I meet handsome men in cute and unusual ways on television. And next season my character might get a pet puppy!

So, is one more important than the other? Who can say.

This group before me is bristling with ambitious young people, many of whom have already started charities and philanthropic organizations.

With this diploma in hand, most of you will go on to the noblest of pursuits, like helping a cable company acquire a telecom company.

You will defend BP from birds.

You will spend hours arguing that the well water was contaminated well before the fracking occurred.

One of you will sort out the details of my prenup.

A dozen of you will help me with my acrimonious divorce.

And one of you will fall in love in the process—I’m talkin’ to you, Noah Feldman.

And let’s be honest, Harvard Law is the best of the Harvard graduate programs, ok, I can say this, we're amongst friends. The Business School is full of crooks, the Divinity School is just a bunch of weird virgins, the School of Design is like European burnouts, and don’t even get me started on the Kennedy School. What kind of degree do you get from there, Public Policy? You mean a Masters in Boring Me to Death at a Dinner Party, I'm sorry. The med school is just a bunch of nerdy Indians—I can say that! Preet can say that. The rest of you, you are out of line—that is racial, how dare you.

But I digress, again. I'm just really excited to be here. I am obsessed with justice. Actually, in my mind, law is that pesky thing that often gets in the way of justice. I believe in the Clint Eastwood School of the Law. An eye for an eye? I don’t think so. That solves nothing. You take my eye, I take your life, my friend, in a duel, Aaron Burr-style. I don't want your stupid eye, for what? My eye collection? You're dead.

Duels are the first thing you learn when you enter my graduate program, the Harvard School of Vengeance.

But again, that's not what I came here to talk about. The Harvard Law School crest has the word “Veritas”, which means truth in Latin. I know that because it's too boring to make up.

And if you look at the crest, you'll notice under this hallowed word, there are three bunches of asparagus. Because asparagus is the tallest and the proudest of the vegetables, the pillar of the vegetable kingdom, and it’s like, it’s like, OK, that is not asparagus, that is wheat, which makes also not a ton of sense either. OK, that was three pages of my speech, that's a callback to asparagus. I'm going to move past trying to make sense of your crest which makes no sense.

Harvard Law has an incredible number of illustrious alumni.

President Barack Obama attended Harvard Law—OR SO HE SAYS!

Elle Woods went here, from the trenchant documentary Legally Blonde. It’s a very moving film. Dean Minow, you should check it out after you read my book.

Six of the nine Supreme Court justices are graduates of Harvard Law, the other three—I don’t know where they went, I think it was University of Phoenix, not sure.

No, no, no—as we all know, they attended your friendly rival, Yale Law School.

Ok, let's just take a moment to talk about this rivalry. I know that you have a chip on your shoulder. Yale Law is always number one, and you are always number two. Sometimes Stanford comes in there, bumps you down to number three, but listen, let me tell you something—from where I stand, from an outsider’s perspective, here’s the truth: you are ALL nerds.

Except here’s the difference: you are the nerds who are going to make some serious bank, which is why I’m here today—to marry the best-looking amongst you.

Back to this beautiful diploma, it's not just a law degree, you can do whatever you want now, and this institution will follow you everywhere.

If you kill someone, you are the “Harvard Law Murderer.”

If you are caught in a lewd act in a public restroom, you’re the “Harvard Law Pervert,” my friend. And then you can represent yourself, and you’ll probably get acquitted because you went to Harvard.

In fact, the only downside of this degree is when you run for Senate, you will have to distance yourself from it to seem more like a regular person. You'll tuck in your flannel shirt into your freshly pressed jeans (that you just bought). And still, this institution is going to haunt you. No matter how many diners you eat at. No matter how many guitar solos you do with Rascal Flats, you are Harvard to the grave. You won't be able to buy enough rusty pick up truck enough to distance yourself from this place. Mitt Romney? He preferred to be known as “The Mormon Guy” to distract himself from his Harvard past.

Now I'd like to get a little serious. I am an American of Indian origin whose parents were raised in India, met in Africa, and move to America, and now I am the star and creator of my own network television program. The continents traveled, the languages mastered, the standardized tests taken over and over again, and the cultures navigated are amazing even to me. My family's dream about a future unfettered by limitations dependent only on "what you know" and not by "who you know" was possible only in America. Their romance with this country is more romantic than any romantic comedy I could ever write.

And it's all because they believed, as I do, about the concept of the inherent fairness that is alive in America. And that here, you could aspire and succeed. And that, my parents believed, their children could aspire and succeed to levels that could not have happened anywhere else in the world.

And that fairness that my parents and I take for granted, that many Americans take for granted, is in many ways resting on your shoulders to uphold. You represent those who will make laws and affect change. And that is truly an amazing thing. And more than any other group graduating today from Harvard, the laws that you write in the next five to ten years will affect this country in a fundamental way.

And now, the part of my speech where I am supposed to give you advice. And I thought, what advice could I give you guys? Celebrities give too much advice and people listen to it too much. In Hollywood, we all think we are these wise advice givers and most of us have no education whatsoever. Actors can become governors, pundits, or even high ranking officials in religions made up sixty years ago.

Well then, who should be giving advice and the answer is people like you. You are better educated and you are going to go out into the world and people are going to listen to what you say, whether you are good or evil, and that probably scares you because some of you look really young. And I’m afraid a couple of you probably are evil. That’s just the odds.

And to be honest, it scares me because you look like a bunch of tweens. So please, just try to be the kind of people that give advice to celebrities, not the other way around. You are entering a profession where, no matter how bad the crime or the criminal, you have to defend the alleged perpetrator. Across the campus, Harvard Business School graduates are receiving diplomas, and you will need to defend them—for insider trading or narcotics, or maybe both if Wolf of Wall Street is to be believed.

The thing I find the most fascinating, is that you are responsible for the language of justice, for the careful and precise wording in all those boring contracts that I sign while I watch Real Housewives.

You wrote the Terms and Conditions that I scroll through quickly while I download the update for Candy Crush. Terms and Conditions are the only things keeping us from the purge, everybody. I don’t read them—I just hit Accept. iTunes may own my ovaries for all I know.

“Employees must wash their hands before returning to work.” A lawyer wrote that.

“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” A lawyer wrote that.

“Mindy Kaling may not come within 1,000 feet of Professor Noah Feldman.” A lawyer wrote that.

These are protections that we take for granted. Your dedication to meticulous reading is a tedium that I find so admirable. You take words and you turn them into the infrastructure that keeps our world stable.

The seductive southern lawyers from John Grisham novels get all the glory, the Noah Feldmans, but the rest of you form the foundation for our day to day lives. It's backbreaking and often, there is not much glory. And in that way, a lot of you will become the quiet heros of our country. And those of you that go on to work for big pharma and Phillip Morris, you will become the loud anti-heros and someone is certain to make an AMC series glamorizing you.

Either way, you can't go wrong. I look at you and see our nation's future. Attorneys, corporate lawyers, public prosecutors, judges, politicians, maybe even the President of the United States. Those are all positions of such great influence. Understand that one day you will have the power to make a difference.

So use it well. Thank you graduates, thank you faculty, thank you parents, thank you movinggraduationspeeches.com.

Congratulations.

Amy Poehler: 'I don't have many answers, just questions. Specifically, when I use Facetime ...' Harvard, 2011

25 May, 2011, Harvard, Massachusetts, USA

Friends, Romans, countrymen: lend me your beers.

I am honored that you chose me to help you celebrate your graduation today. I can only assume I am here today because of my subtle and layered work in a timeless classic entitled "Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo". And for that I say, you're welcome.

I'm truly, truly delighted to be her at Harvard . I graduated from Boston College. Which some call the Harvard of Boston. But we all know that Harvard is the Harvard of Harvard. And you can quote me on that.

I have to admit I am very surprised to be here because like so many of you, I was pretty convinced the Rapture was going to happen. Show of hands, how many of you woke up on Sunday and thought, "You're kidding me! I sold all of my belongings, I told my boss to shove it and we are still here?" I understand how you feel. I am so mad at Heaven right now.

So I tried to write today's speech the way I wrote everything in College. Stayed up all night, typing on a Canon word processor while listening to Sir Mix-a-lot. To be fair, first I took a nap, I ate a large pretzel, I cried a little bit and then I went to see that movie, Fast Five.

And I am here to tell you, life is like a heist that requires good drivers, an explosives expert, a hot girl who doubles as a master of disguise and this is a hard and fast rule. If the Rock shows up, they're on to you.

But the class of 2011 did not invite me here to tell jokes. They invited me here to talk about the recent tensions between oil traders regulators of the commodities futures trading commission. I'm sure we all read the New York Times this morning which posited that there may be a complex scheme that relied on the close relationships between physical oil prices and the prices of financial futures, which of course, as we all know, moves in parallel. Hilarious.

What do I know about Harvard? I know it is the oldest American university. I know it provides the ultimate experience in higher learning and according to the movies, I know it is filled with people who get rich either by inventing things or suing the people who they claim stole their invention. Let me be clear. I believe everything I see in movies. And if you remember anything I say today, remember this. Every single thing you see in movies is real.

So, what do the fine students of 2011 need to hear from me? If I wanted to give you advice as a Bostonian, I would remind you that: "Just because you're wicked smart it doesn't mean you are better than me."

And I would also want to say: "Good for you for working so hard. You graduated from 'Hahvahd' -- it must be nice."

If I wanted to give you advice as a New Yorker, I'd tell you, "Excuse me, ma'am, could you move please? Don't walk in the bike lane -- get off the bike lane please." And I would also like to take a moment to inform you as a New Yorker and as my cab driver did recently that Bloomberg pretends to take the subway, but we all know that's a bunch of baloney.

And if I wanted to give you advice as an actor, I would tell you this: Don't do it. Don't be one. There are too many. I have a lot of talented friends who aren't working. Sorry, no more room at the inn. I bet you are great, but just work with the human genome instead.

You're all smart and sophisticated people. You know the world in a way that my generation never did. Because of that, I realize I don't have much advice to give to you. In many ways, I learned from you. I don't have many answers, just questions. Specifically, when I use Facetime on my iPad and I'm talking to someone and I take a picture, sometimes the screen freezes. How do I fix that?

All I can tell you today is what I have learned. What I have discovered as a person in this world. And that is this: you can't do it alone. As you navigate through the rest of your life, be open to collaboration. Other people and other people's ideas are often better than your own.

Find a group of people who challenge and inspire you, spend a lot of time with them, and it will change your life. No one is here today because they did it on their own. Okay, maybe Josh, but he's just a straight up weirdo. You're all here today because someone gave you strength. Helped you. Held you in the palm of their hand. God, Allah, Buddha, Gaga -- whomever you pray to.

They have helped you get here, and that should make you feel less alone. And less scared. Because it has been a scary ten years. You were young children when you watched planes hit the World Trade Center. You quickly understood what it was like to feel out of control. Your formative teenage years were filled with orange alerts and rogue waves and unaccomplished missions.

For my generation, it was AIDS. We all grow up afraid of something. Your generation had to get used to taking off your shoes at the airprot. My generation had to get used to awkward PSAs from Boyz2men telling us to use protection. But during those tough times, we realized how wonderful it felt to be part of a group.

But more about me.

I moved to Chicago in the early 1990s and I studied improvisation there. I learned some rules that I try to apply still today: Listen. Say "yes." Live in the moment. Make sure you play with people who have your back. Make big choices early and often. Don't start a scene where two people are talking about jumping out of a plane. Start the scene having already jumped. If you are scared, look into your partner's eyes. You will feel better.

This advice has come in handy and it would often be something I would think about when I would perform on Saturday Night Live. Live television can be very nerve-wracking and I remember one time being nervous, looking into the eyes of the host and feeling better. I should point out I was wearing a chicken suit at the time. The host was Donald Trump. He was wearing a bigger, more elaborate chicken suit. I looked into his eyes, I saw that he looked really stupid, and I instantly felt better.

See how that works? I should point out that that sketch was written by a Harvard graduate and also a graduate from Northwestern -- but who cares about that. Am I right?

I cannot stress enough that the answer to a lot of your life's questions is often in someone else's face. Try putting your iPhones down every once in a while and look at people's faces. People's faces will tell you amazing things. Like if they are angry or nauseous, or asleep.

I have been lucky to be a part of great ensembles. My work with the upright citizens brigade led me to my work on Saturday Night Live, and when I graduated from that comedy college, I was worried about what came next. Then Parks and Recreation came along, a show I am proud of where I get to work with people I love. You never know what is around the corner unless you peek. Hold someone's hand while you do it. You will feel less scared. You can't do this alone. Besides it is much more fun to succeed and fail with other people. You can blame them when things go wrong. Take your risks now. As you grow older, you become more fearful and less flexible. And I mean that literally. I hurt my knee on the treadmill this week and it wasn't even on. Try to keep your mind open to possibilities and your mouth closed on matters that you don't know about. Limit your "always" and your "nevers." Continue to share your heart with people even if its been broken. Don't treat your heart like an action figure wrapped in plastic and never used. And don't try to give me that nerd argument that your heart is a batman with a limited edition silver battering and therefore if it stays in its original package it increases in value. Watch it Harvard, you're not better than me.

Even though, as a class, you are smart, you are still allowed to say, "I don't know." Just because you are in high demand, you are still allowed to say, "Let me get back to you." This will come in handy when your parents ask when you plan to move out of their basement and you answer, "I don't know. Let me get back to you." Which leads me to my final thought: would it kill you to be nicer to your parents? They have sacrificed so much for you, and all they want you to do is smile and take a picture with your weird cousins. Do that for them. And with less eye-rolling, please. And so, class of 2011, it is time to leave. Oprah has spoken.

So I will end with this quote: Heyah, Heyah, Heyah, Heyah, Heyah, heyah, heyah, heyah, alright alright alright, alright, alright. The group: Outcast; the song: Heyah. The lyrics: nonsense. I'm sorry it was really late when I wrote this.

This is what I want to say: When you feel scared, hold someone's hand and look into their eyes. And when you feel brave, do the same thing. You are all here because you are smart. And you are brave. And if you add kindness and the ability to change a tire, you almost make up the perfect person. I thank you for asking me to speak to you today. As you head out into the world I wish you love and light, joy, and much laughter. And as always, please don't forget to tip your waitresses.

Thank you very much.

Jim Carrey: 'Life doesn’t happen to you, it happens for you', Maharishi University of Management, 2014

24 May, 2014, Maharishi University of Management, Fairfield, Iowa, USA

Thank you Bevan, thank you all!

I brought one of my paintings to show you today. Hope you guys are gonna be able see it okay. It’s not one of my bigger pieces. You might wanna move down front — to get a good look at it. (kidding)

Faculty, Parents, Friends, Dignitaries… Graduating Class of 2014, and all the dead baseball players coming out of the corn to be with us today. (laughter) After the harvest there’s no place to hide — the fields are empty — there is no cover there! (laughter)

I am here to plant a seed that will inspire you to move forward in life with enthusiastic hearts and a clear sense of wholeness. The question is, will that seed have a chance to take root, or will I be sued by Monsanto and forced to use their seed, which may not be totally “Ayurvedic.” (laughter)

Excuse me if I seem a little low energy tonight — today — whatever this is. I slept with my head to the North last night. (laughter) Oh man! Oh man! You know how that is, right kids? Woke up right in the middle of Pitta and couldn’t get back to sleep till Vata rolled around, but I didn’t freak out. I used that time to eat a large meal and connect with someone special on Tinder. (laughter)

Life doesn’t happen to you, it happens for you. How do I know this? I don’t, but I’m making sound, and that’s the important thing. That’s what I’m here to do. Sometimes, I think that’s one of the only things that are important. Just letting each other know we’re here, reminding each other that we are part of a larger self. I used to think Jim Carrey is all that I was…

Just a flickering light

A dancing shadow

The great nothing masquerading as something you can name

Dwelling in forts and castles made of witches – wishes! Sorry, a Freudian slip there

Seeking shelter in caves and foxholes, dug out hastily

An archer searching for his target in the mirror

Wounded only by my own arrows

Begging to be enslaved

Pleading for my chains

Blinded by longing and tripping over paradise – can I get an “Amen”?! (applause)

You didn’t think I could be serious did ya’? I don’t think you understand who you’re dealing with! I have no limits! I cannot be contained because I’m the container. You can’t contain the container, man! You can’t contain the container! (laughter)

I used to believe that who I was ended at the edge of my skin, that I had been given this little vehicle called a body from which to experience creation, and though I couldn’t have asked for a sportier model, (laughter) it was after all a loaner and would have to be returned. Then, I learned that everything outside the vehicle was a part of me, too, and now I drive a convertible. Top down wind in my hair! (laughter)

I am elated and truly, truly, truly excited to be present and fully connected to you at this important moment in your journey. I hope you’re ready to open the roof and take it all in?! (audience doesn’t react) Okay, four more years then! (laughter)

I want to thank the Trustees, Administrators and Faculty of MUM for creating an institution worthy of Maharishi’s ideals of education. A place that teaches the knowledge and experience necessary to be productive in life, as well as enabling the students, through Transcendental Meditation and ancient Vedic knowledge to slack off twice a day for an hour and a half!! (laughter) — don’t think you’re fooling me!!! — (applause) but, I guess it has some benefits. It does allow you to separate who you truly are and what’s real, from the stories that run through your head.

You have given them the ability to walk behind the mind’s elaborate set decoration, and to see that there is a huge difference between a dog that is going to eat you in your mind and an actual dog that’s going to eat you. (laughter) That may sound like no big deal, but many never learn that distinction and spend a great deal of their lives living in fight or flight response.

I’d like to acknowledge all you wonderful parents — way to go for the fantastic job you’ve done — for your tireless dedication, your love, your support, and most of all, for the attention you’ve paid to your children. I have a saying, “Beware the unloved,” because they will eventually hurt themselves… or me! (laughter)

But when I look at this group here today, I feel really safe! I do! I’m just going to say it — my room is not locked! My room is not locked! (laughter) No doubt some of you will turn out to be crooks! But white-collar stuff — Wall St. ya’ know, that type of thing — crimes committed by people with self-esteem! Stuff a parent can still be proud of in a weird way. (laughter)

And to the graduating class of 2017 — minus 3! You didn’t let me finish! (laughter) — Congratulations! (applause) Yes, give yourselves a round of applause, please. You are the vanguard of knowledge and consciousness; a new wave in a vast ocean of possibilities. On the other side of that door, there is a world starving for new leadership, new ideas.

I’ve been out there for 30 years! She’s a wild cat! (laughter) Oh, she’ll rub up against your leg and purr until you pick her up and start pettin’ her, and out of nowhere she’ll swat you in the face. Sure it’s rough sometimes but that’s OK, ‘cause they’ve got soft serve ice cream with sprinkles! (laughter) I guess that’s what I’m really here to say; sometimes it’s okay to eat your feelings! (laughter)

Fear is going to be a player in your life, but you get to decide how much. You can spend your whole life imagining ghosts, worrying about your pathway to the future, but all there will ever be is what’s happening here, and the decisions we make in this moment, which are based in either love or fear.

So many of us choose our path out of fear disguised as practicality. What we really want seems impossibly out of reach and ridiculous to expect, so we never dare to ask the universe for it. I’m saying, I’m the proof that you can ask the universe for it — please! (applause) And if it doesn’t happen for you right away, it’s only because the universe is so busy fulfilling my order. It’s party size! (laughter)

My father could have been a great comedian, but he didn’t believe that was possible for him, and so he made a conservative choice. Instead, he got a safe job as an accountant, and when I was 12 years old, he was let go from that safe job and our family had to do whatever we could to survive.

I learned many great lessons from my father, not the least of which was that you can fail at what you don’t want, so you might as well take a chance on doing what you love. (applause)

That’s not the only thing he taught me though: I watched the affect my father’s love and humor had on the world around me, and I thought, “That’s something to do, that’s something worth my time.”

It wasn’t long before I started acting up. People would come over to my house and they would be greeted by a 7 yr old throwing himself down a large flight of stairs. (laughter) They would say, “What happened?” And I would say, “I don’t know — let’s check the replay.” And I would go back to the top of the stairs and come back down in slow motion. (Jim reenacts coming down the stairs in slow-mo) It was a very strange household. (laughter)

My father used to brag that I wasn’t a ham — I was the whole pig. And he treated my talent as if it was his second chance. When I was about 28, after a decade as a professional comedian, I realized one night in LA that the purpose of my life had always been to free people from concern, like my dad. When I realized this, I dubbed my new devotion, “The Church of Freedom From Concern” — “The Church of FFC”— and I dedicated myself to that ministry.

What’s yours? How will you serve the world? What do they need that your talent can provide? That’s all you have to figure out. As someone who has done what you are about to go do, I can tell you from experience, the effect you have on others is the most valuable currency there is. (applause)

Everything you gain in life will rot and fall apart, and all that will be left of you is what was in your heart. My choosing to free people from concern got me to the top of a mountain. Look where I am — look what I get to do! Everywhere I go – and I’m going to get emotional because when I tap into this, it really is extraordinary to me — I did something that makes people present their best selves to me wherever I go. (applause) I am at the top of the mountain and the only one I hadn’t freed was myself and that’s when my search for identity deepened.

I wondered who I’d be without my fame. Who would I be if I said things that people didn’t want to hear, or if I defied their expectations of me? What if I showed up to the party without my Mardi Gras mask and I refused to flash my breasts for a handful of beads? (laughter) I’ll give you a moment to wipe that image out of your mind. (laughter)

But you guys are way ahead of the game. You already know who you are and that peace, that peace that we’re after, lies somewhere beyond personality, beyond the perception of others, beyond invention and disguise, even beyond effort itself. You can join the game, fight the wars, play with form all you want, but to find real peace, you have to let the armor fall. Your need for acceptance can make you invisible in this world. Don’t let anything stand in the way of the light that shines through this form. Risk being seen in all of your glory. (A sheet drops and reveals Jim’s painting. Applause.)

(Re: the painting) It’s not big enough! (kidding) This painting is big for a reason. This painting is called “High Visibility.” (laughter) It’s about picking up the light and daring to be seen. Here’s the tricky part. Everyone is attracted to the light. The party host up in the corner (refers to painting) who thinks unconsciousness is bliss and is always offering a drink from the bottles that empty you; Misery, below her, who despises the light — can’t stand when you’re doing well — and wishes you nothing but the worst; The Queen of Diamonds who needs a King to build her house of cards; And the Hollow One, who clings to your leg and begs, “Please don’t leave me behind for I have abandoned myself.”

Even those who are closest to you and most in love with you; the people you love most in the world can find clarity confronting at times. This painting took me thousands of hours to complete and — (applause) thank you — yes, thousands of hours that I’ll never get back, I’ll never get them back (kidding) — I worked on this for so long, for weeks and weeks, like a mad man alone on a scaffolding — and when I was finished one of my friends said, “This would be a cool black light painting.” (laughter)

So I started over. (All the lights go off in the Dome and the painting is showered with black light.) Whooooo! Welcome to Burning Man! (applause) Some pretty crazy characters right? Better up there than in here. (points to head) Painting is one of the ways I free myself from concern, a way to stop the world through total mental, spiritual and physical involvement.

But even with that, comes a feeling of divine dissatisfaction. Because ultimately, we’re not the avatars we create. We’re not the pictures on the film stock. We are the light that shines through it. All else is just smoke and mirrors. Distracting, but not truly compelling.

I’ve often said that I wished people could realize all their dreams of wealth and fame so they could see that it’s not where you’ll find your sense of completion. Like many of you, I was concerned about going out in the world and doing something bigger than myself, until someone smarter than myself made me realize that there is nothing bigger than myself! (laughter)

My soul is not contained within the limits of my body. My body is contained within the limitlessness of my soul — one unified field of nothing dancing for no particular reason, except maybe to comfort and entertain itself. (applause) As that shift happens in you, you won’t be feeling the world you’ll be felt by it — you will be embraced by it. Now, I’m always at the beginning. I have a reset button called presence and I ride that button constantly.

Once that button is functional in your life, there’s no story the mind could create that will be as compelling. The imagination is always manufacturing scenarios — both good and bad — and the ego tries to keep you trapped in the multiplex of the mind. Our eyes are not only viewers, but also projectors that are running a second story over the picture we see in front of us all the time. Fear is writing that script and the working title is, ‘I’ll never be enough.’

You look at a person like me and say, (kidding) “How could we ever hope to reach those kinds of heights, Jim? How can I make a painting that’s too big for any reasonable home? How do you fly so high without a special breathing apparatus?” (laughter)

This is the voice of your ego. If you listen to it, there will always be someone who seems to be doing better than you. No matter what you gain, ego will not let you rest. It will tell you that you cannot stop until you’ve left an indelible mark on the earth, until you’ve achieved immortality. How tricky is the ego that it would tempt us with the promise of something we already possess.

So I just want you to relax—that’s my job—relax and dream up a good life! (applause) I had a substitute teacher from Ireland in the second grade that told my class during Morning Prayer that when she wants something, anything at all, she prays for it, and promises something in return and she always gets it. I’m sitting at the back of the classroom, thinking that my family can’t afford a bike, so I went home and I prayed for one, and promised I would recite the rosary every night in exchange. Broke it—broke that promise. (laughter)

Two weeks later, I got home from school to find a brand new mustang bike with a banana seat and easy rider handlebars — from fool to cool! My family informed me that I had won the bike in a raffle that a friend of mine had entered my name in, without my knowledge. That type of thing has been happening ever since, and as far as I can tell, it’s just about letting the universe know what you want and working toward it while letting go of how it might come to pass. (applause)

Your job is not to figure out how it’s going to happen for you, but to open the door in your head and when the doors open in real life, just walk through it. Don’t worry if you miss your cue. There will always be another door opening. They keep opening.

And when I say, “life doesn’t happen to you, it happens for you.” I really don’t know if that’s true. I’m just making a conscious choice to perceive challenges as something beneficial so that I can deal with them in the most productive way. You’ll come up with your own style, that’s part of the fun!

Oh, and why not take a chance on faith as well? Take a chance on faith — not religion, but faith. Not hope, but faith. I don’t believe in hope. Hope is a beggar. Hope walks through the fire. Faith leaps over it.

You are ready and able to do beautiful things in this world and after you walk through those doors today, you will only ever have two choices: love or fear. Choose love, and don’t ever let fear turn you against your playful heart.

Thank you. Jai Guru Dev. I’m so honored. Thank you.

Full transcript

Oprah Winfrey: 'Life as a Classroom' - Stanford, 2008

15 June, 2008, Stanford University, USA

Thank you, President Hennessy, and to the trustees and the faculty, to all of the parents and grandparents, to you, the Stanford graduates. Thank you for letting me share this amazing day with you.

I need to begin by letting everyone in on a little secret. The secret is that Kirby Bumpus, Stanford Class of '08, is my goddaughter. So, I was thrilled when President Hennessy asked me to be your Commencement speaker, because this is the first time I've been allowed on campus since Kirby's been here.

You see, Kirby's a very smart girl. She wants people to get to know her on her own terms, she says. Not in terms of who she knows. So, she never wants anyone who's first meeting her to know that I know her and she knows me. So, when she first came to Stanford for new student orientation with her mom, I hear that they arrived and everybody was so welcoming, and somebody came up to Kirby and they said, "Ohmigod, that's Gayle King!" Because a lot of people know Gayle King as my BFF.

And so somebody comes up to Kirby, and they say, "Ohmigod, is that Gayle King?" And Kirby's like, "Uh-huh. She's my mom."

And so the person says, "Ohmigod, does it mean, like, you know Oprah Winfrey?"

And Kirby says, "Sort of."

I said, "Sort of? You sort of know me?" Well, I have photographic proof. I have pictures which I can e-mail to you all of Kirby riding horsey with me on all fours. So, I more than sort-of know Kirby Bumpus. And I'm so happy to be here, just happy that I finally, after four years, get to see her room. There's really nowhere else I'd rather be, because I'm so proud of Kirby, who graduates today with two degrees, one in human bio and the other in psychology. Love you, Kirby Cakes! That's how well I know her. I can call her Cakes.

And so proud of her mother and father, who helped her get through this time, and her brother, Will. I really had nothing to do with her graduating from Stanford, but every time anybody's asked me in the past couple of weeks what I was doing, I would say, "I'm getting ready to go to Stanford."

I just love saying "Stanford." Because the truth is, I know I would have never gotten my degree at all, 'cause I didn't go to Stanford. I went to Tennessee State University. But I never would have gotten my diploma at all, because I was supposed to graduate back in 1975, but I was short one credit. And I figured, I'm just going to forget it, 'cause, you know, I'm not going to march with my class. Because by that point, I was already on television. I'd been in television since I was 19 and a sophomore. Granted, I was the only television anchor person that had an 11 o'clock curfew doing the 10 o'clock news.

Seriously, my dad was like, "Well, that news is over at 10:30. Be home by 11."

But that didn't matter to me, because I was earning a living. I was on my way. So, I thought, I'm going to let this college thing go and I only had one credit short. But, my father, from that time on and for years after, was always on my case, because I did not graduate. He'd say, "Oprah Gail"—that's my middle name—"I don't know what you're gonna do without that degree." And I'd say, "But, Dad, I have my own television show."

And he'd say, "Well, I still don't know what you're going to do without that degree."

And I'd say, "But, Dad, now I'm a talk show host." He'd say, "I don't know how you're going to get another job without that degree."

So, in 1987, Tennessee State University invited me back to speak at their commencement. By then, I had my own show, was nationally syndicated. I'd made a movie, had been nominated for an Oscar and founded my company, Harpo. But I told them, I cannot come and give a speech unless I can earn one more credit, because my dad's still saying I'm not going to get anywhere without that degree.

So, I finished my coursework, I turned in my final paper and I got the degree.

And my dad was very proud. And I know that, if anything happens, that one credit will be my salvation.

But I also know why my dad was insisting on that diploma, because, as B. B. King put it, "The beautiful thing about learning is that nobody can take that away from you." And learning is really in the broadest sense what I want to talk about today, because your education, of course, isn't ending here. In many ways, it's only just begun.

The world has so many lessons to teach you. I consider the world, this Earth, to be like a school and our life the classrooms. And sometimes here in this Planet Earth school the lessons often come dressed up as detours or roadblocks. And sometimes as full-blown crises. And the secret I've learned to getting ahead is being open to the lessons, lessons from the grandest university of all, that is, the universe itself.

It's being able to walk through life eager and open to self-improvement and that which is going to best help you evolve, 'cause that's really why we're here, to evolve as human beings. To grow into more of ourselves, always moving to the next level of understanding, the next level of compassion and growth.

I think about one of the greatest compliments I've ever received: I interviewed with a reporter when I was first starting out in Chicago. And then many years later, I saw the same reporter. And she said to me, "You know what? You really haven't changed. You've just become more of yourself."

And that is really what we're all trying to do, become more of ourselves. And I believe that there's a lesson in almost everything that you do and every experience, and getting the lesson is how you move forward. It's how you enrich your spirit. And, trust me, I know that inner wisdom is more precious than wealth. The more you spend it, the more you gain.

So, today, I just want to share a few lessons—meaning three—that I've learned in my journey so far. And aren't you glad? Don't you hate it when somebody says, "I'm going to share a few," and it's 10 lessons later? And, you're like, "Listen, this is my graduation. This is not about you." So, it's only going to be three.

The three lessons that have had the greatest impact on my life have to do with feelings, with failure and with finding happiness.

A year after I left college, I was given the opportunity to co-anchor the 6 o'clock news in Baltimore, because the whole goal in the media at the time I was coming up was you try to move to larger markets. And Baltimore was a much larger market than Nashville. So, getting the 6 o'clock news co-anchor job at 22 was such a big deal. It felt like the biggest deal in the world at the time.

And I was so proud, because I was finally going to have my chance to be like Barbara Walters, which is who I had been trying to emulate since the start of my TV career. So, I was 22 years old, making $22,000 a year. And it's where I met my best friend, Gayle, who was an intern at the same TV station. And once we became friends, we'd say, "Ohmigod, I can't believe it! You're making $22,000 and you're only 22. Imagine when you're 40 and you're making $40,000!"

When I turned 40, I was so glad that didn't happen.

So, here I am, 22, making $22,000 a year and, yet, it didn't feel right. It didn't feel right. The first sign, as President Hennessy was saying, was when they tried to change my name. The news director said to me at the time, "Nobody's going to remember Oprah. So, we want to change your name. We've come up with a name we think that people will remember and people will like. It's a friendly name: Suzie."

Hi, Suzie. Very friendly. You can't be angry with Suzie. Remember Suzie. But my name wasn't Suzie. And, you know, I'd grown up not really loving my name, because when you're looking for your little name on the lunch boxes and the license plate tags, you're never going to find Oprah.

So, I grew up not loving the name, but once I was asked to change it, I thought, well, it is my name and do I look like a Suzie to you? So, I thought, no, it doesn't feel right. I'm not going to change my name. And if people remember it or not, that's OK.

And then they said they didn't like the way I looked. This was in 1976, when your boss could call you in and say, "I don't like the way you look." Now that would be called a lawsuit, but back then they could just say, "I don't like the way you look." Which, in case some of you in the back, if you can't tell, is nothing like Barbara Walters. So, they sent me to a salon where they gave me a perm, and after a few days all my hair fell out and I had to shave my head. And then they really didn't like the way I looked.

Because now I am black and bald and sitting on TV. Not a pretty picture.

But even worse than being bald, I really hated, hated, hated being sent to report on other people's tragedies as a part of my daily duty, knowing that I was just expected to observe, when everything in my instinct told me that I should be doing something, I should be lending a hand.

So, as President Hennessy said, I'd cover a fire and then I'd go back and I'd try to give the victims blankets. And I wouldn't be able to sleep at night because of all the things I was covering during the day.

And, meanwhile, I was trying to sit gracefully like Barbara and make myself talk like Barbara. And I thought, well, I could make a pretty goofy Barbara. And if I could figure out how to be myself, I could be a pretty good Oprah. I was trying to sound elegant like Barbara. And sometimes I didn't read my copy, because something inside me said, this should be spontaneous. So, I wanted to get the news as I was giving it to the people. So, sometimes, I wouldn't read my copy and it would be, like, six people on a pileup on I-40. Oh, my goodness.

And sometimes I wouldn't read the copy—because I wanted to be spontaneous—and I'd come across a list of words I didn't know and I'd mispronounce. And one day I was reading copy and I called Canada "ca nada." And I decided, this Barbara thing's not going too well. I should try being myself.

But at the same time, my dad was saying, "Oprah Gail, this is an opportunity of a lifetime. You better keep that job." And my boss was saying, "This is the nightly news. You're an anchor, not a social worker. Just do your job."

So, I was juggling these messages of expectation and obligation and feeling really miserable with myself. I'd go home at night and fill up my journals, 'cause I've kept a journal since I was 15—so I now have volumes of journals. So, I'd go home at night and fill up my journals about how miserable I was and frustrated. Then I'd eat my anxiety. That's where I learned that habit.

And after eight months, I lost that job. They said I was too emotional. I was too much. But since they didn't want to pay out the contract, they put me on a talk show in Baltimore. And the moment I sat down on that show, the moment I did, I felt like I'd come home. I realized that TV could be more than just a playground, but a platform for service, for helping other people lift their lives. And the moment I sat down, doing that talk show, it felt like breathing. It felt right. And that's where everything that followed for me began.

And I got that lesson. When you're doing the work you're meant to do, it feels right and every day is a bonus, regardless of what you're getting paid.

It's true. And how do you know when you're doing something right? How do you know that? It feels so. What I know now is that feelings are really your GPS system for life. When you're supposed to do something or not supposed to do something, your emotional guidance system lets you know. The trick is to learn to check your ego at the door and start checking your gut instead. Every right decision I've made—every right decision I've ever made—has come from my gut. And every wrong decision I've ever made was a result of me not listening to the greater voice of myself.

If it doesn't feel right, don't do it. That's the lesson. And that lesson alone will save you, my friends, a lot of grief. Even doubt means don't. This is what I've learned. There are many times when you don't know what to do. When you don't know what to do, get still, get very still, until you do know what to do.

And when you do get still and let your internal motivation be the driver, not only will your personal life improve, but you will gain a competitive edge in the working world as well. Because, as Daniel Pink writes in his best-seller, A Whole New Mind, we're entering a whole new age. And he calls it the Conceptual Age, where traits that set people apart today are going to come from our hearts—right brain—as well as our heads. It's no longer just the logical, linear, rules-based thinking that matters, he says. It's also empathy and joyfulness and purpose, inner traits that have transcendent worth.

These qualities bloom when we're doing what we love, when we're involving the wholeness of ourselves in our work, both our expertise and our emotion.

So, I say to you, forget about the fast lane. If you really want to fly, just harness your power to your passion. Honor your calling. Everybody has one. Trust your heart and success will come to you.

So, how do I define success? Let me tell you, money's pretty nice. I'm not going to stand up here and tell you that it's not about money, 'cause money is very nice. I like money. It's good for buying things.

But having a lot of money does not automatically make you a successful person. What you want is money and meaning. You want your work to be meaningful. Because meaning is what brings the real richness to your life. What you really want is to be surrounded by people you trust and treasure and by people who cherish you. That's when you're really rich.

So, lesson one, follow your feelings. If it feels right, move forward. If it doesn't feel right, don't do it.

Now I want to talk a little bit about failings, because nobody's journey is seamless or smooth. We all stumble. We all have setbacks. If things go wrong, you hit a dead end—as you will—it's just life's way of saying time to change course. So, ask every failure—this is what I do with every failure, every crisis, every difficult time—I say, what is this here to teach me? And as soon as you get the lesson, you get to move on. If you really get the lesson, you pass and you don't have to repeat the class. If you don't get the lesson, it shows up wearing another pair of pants—or skirt—to give you some remedial work.

And what I've found is that difficulties come when you don't pay attention to life's whisper, because life always whispers to you first. And if you ignore the whisper, sooner or later you'll get a scream. Whatever you resist persists. But, if you ask the right question—not why is this happening, but what is this here to teach me?—it puts you in the place and space to get the lesson you need.

My friend Eckhart Tolle, who's written this wonderful book called A New Earth that's all about letting the awareness of who you are stimulate everything that you do, he puts it like this: He says, don't react against a bad situation; merge with that situation instead. And the solution will arise from the challenge. Because surrendering yourself doesn't mean giving up; it means acting with responsibility.

Many of you know that, as President Hennessy said, I started this school in Africa. And I founded the school, where I'm trying to give South African girls a shot at a future like yours—Stanford. And I spent five years making sure that school would be as beautiful as the students. I wanted every girl to feel her worth reflected in her surroundings. So, I checked every blueprint, I picked every pillow. I was looking at the grout in between the bricks. I knew every thread count of the sheets. I chose every girl from the villages, from nine provinces. And yet, last fall, I was faced with a crisis I had never anticipated. I was told that one of the dorm matrons was suspected of sexual abuse.

That was, as you can imagine, devastating news. First, I cried—actually, I sobbed—for about half an hour. And then I said, let's get to it; that's all you get, a half an hour. You need to focus on the now, what you need to do now. So, I contacted a child trauma specialist. I put together a team of investigators. I made sure the girls had counseling and support. And Gayle and I got on a plane and flew to South Africa.

And the whole time I kept asking that question: What is this here to teach me? And, as difficult as that experience has been, I got a lot of lessons. I understand now the mistakes I made, because I had been paying attention to all of the wrong things. I'd built that school from the outside in, when what really mattered was the inside out.

So, it's a lesson that applies to all of our lives as a whole. What matters most is what's inside. What matters most is the sense of integrity, of quality and beauty. I got that lesson. And what I know is that the girls came away with something, too. They have emerged from this more resilient and knowing that their voices have power.

And their resilience and spirit have given me more than I could ever give to them, which leads me to my final lesson—the one about finding happiness—which we could talk about all day, but I know you have other wacky things to do.

Not a small topic this is, finding happiness. But in some ways I think it's the simplest of all. Gwendolyn Brooks wrote a poem for her children. It's called "Speech to the Young : Speech to the Progress-Toward." And she says at the end, "Live not for battles won. / Live not for the-end-of-the-song. / Live in the along." She's saying, like Eckhart Tolle, that you have to live for the present. You have to be in the moment. Whatever has happened to you in your past has no power over this present moment, because life is now.

But I think she's also saying, be a part of something. Don't live for yourself alone. This is what I know for sure: In order to be truly happy, you must live along with and you have to stand for something larger than yourself. Because life is a reciprocal exchange. To move forward you have to give back. And to me, that is the greatest lesson of life. To be happy, you have to give something back.

I know you know that, because that's a lesson that's woven into the very fabric of this university. It's a lesson that Jane and Leland Stanford got and one they've bequeathed to you. Because all of you know the story of how this great school came to be, how the Stanfords lost their only child to typhoid at the age of 15. They had every right and they had every reason to turn their backs against the world at that time, but instead, they channeled their grief and their pain into an act of grace. Within a year of their son's death, they had made the founding grant for this great school, pledging to do for other people's children what they were not able to do for their own boy.

The lesson here is clear, and that is, if you're hurting, you need to help somebody ease their hurt. If you're in pain, help somebody else's pain. And when you're in a mess, you get yourself out of the mess helping somebody out of theirs. And in the process, you get to become a member of what I call the greatest fellowship of all, the sorority of compassion and the fraternity of service.

The Stanfords had suffered the worst thing any mom and dad can ever endure, yet they understood that helping others is the way we help ourselves. And this wisdom is increasingly supported by scientific and sociological research. It's no longer just woo-woo soft-skills talk. There's actually a helper's high, a spiritual surge you gain from serving others. So, if you want to feel good, you have to go out and do some good.

But when you do good, I hope you strive for more than just the good feeling that service provides, because I know this for sure, that doing good actually makes you better. So, whatever field you choose, if you operate from the paradigm of service, I know your life will have more value and you will be happy.

I was always happy doing my talk show, but that happiness reached a depth of fulfillment, of joy, that I really can't describe to you or measure when I stopped just being on TV and looking at TV as a job and decided to use television, to use it and not have it use me, to use it as a platform to serve my viewers. That alone changed the trajectory of my success.

So, I know this—that whether you're an actor, you offer your talent in the way that most inspires art. If you're an anatomist, you look at your gift as knowledge and service to healing. Whether you've been called, as so many of you here today getting doctorates and other degrees, to the professions of business, law, engineering, humanities, science, medicine, if you choose to offer your skills and talent in service, when you choose the paradigm of service, looking at life through that paradigm, it turns everything you do from a job into a gift. And I know you haven't spent all this time at Stanford just to go out and get a job.

You've been enriched in countless ways. There's no better way to make your mark on the world and to share that abundance with others. My constant prayer for myself is to be used in service for the greater good.

So, let me end with one of my favorite quotes from Martin Luther King. Dr. King said, "Not everybody can be famous." And I don't know, but everybody today seems to want to be famous.

But fame is a trip. People follow you to the bathroom, listen to you pee. It's just—try to pee quietly. It doesn't matter, they come out and say, "Ohmigod, it's you. You peed."

That's the fame trip, so I don't know if you want that.

So, Dr. King said, "Not everybody can be famous. But everybody can be great, because greatness is determined by service." Those of you who are history scholars may know the rest of that passage. He said, "You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You don't have to know about Plato or Aristotle to serve. You don't have to know Einstein's theory of relativity to serve. You don't have to know the second theory of thermodynamics in physics to serve. You only need a heart full of grace and a soul generated by love."

In a few moments, you'll all be officially Stanford's '08.

You have the heart and the smarts to go with it. And it's up to you to decide, really, where will you now use those gifts? You've got the diploma, so go out and get the lessons, 'cause I know great things are sure to come.

You know, I've always believed that everything is better when you share it, so before I go, I wanted to share a graduation gift with you. Underneath your seats you'll find two of my favorite books. Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth is my current book club selection. Our New Earth webcast has been downloaded 30 million times with that book. And Daniel Pink's A Whole New Mind: Why Right-Brainers Will Rule the Future has reassured me I'm in the right direction.

I really wanted to give you cars but I just couldn't pull that off! Congratulations, '08!

Thank you. Thank you.

Hasan Minhaj: 'Fight Through the Pick', Davis Senior High - 2015

June 2015, Davis Senior High School, Davis, California, USA

Daily Show correspondent & comedian Hasan Minhaj graduated from Davis in 2003.

I graduated from Davis Senior High School a little over 10 years ago and my senior year of high school, my biggest dream was to play on the varsity basketball team. I mean, I just loved it. I loved the sweatshirts, I loved the shooting shirts, the shoes, the tearaway pants, I wanted to be a part of it so bad, even if I sat the bench I just wanted tearaway pants that I knew I would never actually tear away. I wanted it so bad! In my senior year, I definitely thought it could happen. I hadn’t seen myself in the mirror; I was 5”9, 115 pounds of just raw Indian muscle ladies, just raw.

I remember my favorite basketball player growing up was this guy named Penny Hardaway. I mean he had the speed, he had the flash, he had the hops, and he had the most amazing shoes: the Nike air pennies. And I was like, those shoes are gonna make me make get on the team! So I went up to my mom and I said mom can I get the pennies? And she’s like, “do they sell them at Ross?” And I say “no….” And she says “Okay well we have a dress for less budget so if they don’t sell them at Ross, that’s on you. And I ended up getting a job over at Office Max in South Davis, and the hardest part of the job is that you have to sell printers for people who don’t know any better. So people will come in and they’d be like “I’m looking for a printer!” And I say “that’s great, well the Epson 3640 is available right now for $129.99” and they’re like “Oh that’s very affordable! How much...are ink cartridges?” And I’m like “yeah, they’re about $8972 for the rest of the year.” So I sold printers for a bit and I eventually saved up enough money to get the pennies. And I remember I took them home and I opened them up and I pulled them out and you could just like smell the leather and you’re walking around in them like you’re constipated, but you don’t want to crease the shoes so I was like walking like this, Imma make the team in these shoes.

Soon enough, the first day of tryouts roll around in my senior year, and as soon as I get to the court, I’m like these are wayyy too fresh to wear to tryouts so I run back to my locker and I put my pennies away and I put on my old shoes. And I started my first day of tryouts, and Mr. G, the head basketball coach, had this drill, and it was called fight through the pick, and basically he would take the biggest guy, and you would have to just fight through him, you would have to just get around him. And there was this kid named Tommy Wilson, that’s not his real name, I’m not petty, but his name was Tommy Wilson. And I mean he was huge, he had like thighs like this [gesture], he had like, muscles connected from his ears to like here [point ear to shoulder], and Mr. G would blow the whistle and he would be like FIGHT THROUGH THE PICK! And I would just run, my Indian arms would be flailing and Mr. G’s like what are you DOING Hasan, fight through the pick, fight through the pick like you’re trying to get into UC Berkeley! I’m like, I get that analogy! And I ran as hard as I could, and I hit Tommy like BOOM like a forcefield; I bounced right off of him and I hit the deck HARD, right. But I gave it my all, I gave it my all, and I remember at that first day of tryouts I was drenched in sweat. I looked like an immigrant family at waterworld, just soaked, top to bottom, just like “EFFORT! I DID IT!”

Now we’re all waiting in the parking lot, we’re waiting for our parents to pick us up. And all the guys trying out were huddled around each other and then all of the sudden, Tommy Wilson sees me and I’m wearing the pennies. And he goes “Hey dude! Where’d you get those pennies?” And I’m like ‘Aw man, Tommy Wilson’s talking to me!’ And I tell him “Hey dude, I got them from Nike outlet! they’re on sale right now Tommy!” And he goes “Naw dude, you got them from the urinals dog.” See, during tryouts, he went into the locker room and he pulled out my pennies and he put them in the urinal, and he peed in them and he put them back in my locker. And I look down at my shoes and I realize, my shoes are not sopping wet from sweat, no they’re sopping wet from Tommy Wilson’s pee. And then my dad’s 91 Nissan Stanza pulls up to the front of the group and I sloshed my way over and got into the car, and we just drove home in silence, like we normally did, but this time it was because I had pee in my shoes. We get home, the garage door opens up, dad goes into the house, and I pull off my pennies and I put them straight into the dumpster. And, I never wore Air Pennies ever again. And then, it was the infamous day where they post the results of tryouts. I made sure I got up early, I woke up at like 7, 7:15 I got to class because I knew he was going to post the results. I mean, I wanted to be alone, that way if anything happened, that way no one could see me. And around 7:20, the blinds just sort shift to the side, and then those hands go up and they posted the results, and my name wasn’t on the list. I walked home, and I ran upstairs and I closed the door. It kind of set in at that moment that the dream was over.

That day taught me something. Getting cut from the basketball team was the best thing to ever happen to me in my life because I learned that you can’t fall off the floor. And even when you do fall on the floor, it’s not even that bad. The bell rings, life moves on, I went to Chipotle the next day for lunch, like that was it. They’re like you want some guac on your burrito, I’m like yeah I deserve some guac, a dollar 95; I got that guac money right now. The following year I went to college, and I thought to myself, I want to do something where I slowly lose my dignity night in and night out just like basketball, so I decided to do stand up comedy. I did it every night, and I got my shoes peed on proverbially, night in and night out. I was not very good but I stuck with it. And on October 9th, 2014, my life changed forever. I was the last correspondant to be hired by Jon Stewart to be on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart. I had been doing stand up for 10 years, one month, and nine days. I was not the funniest, I was not the brightest, I was not the tallest and I’m not the best looking, all those things I’m not. But I never stopped fighting through the pick.

I do this for you guys. I do this for the 99 percent. For those of you guys that are going to Stanford and Harvard, yknow, enjoy investment banking and ruining the economy, you’re going to have a great life. Private jets are great, shout out to your health insurance, you’re going to have a great life. For the rest of us, I do this for you guys. I really do, because your parents, teachers and counselors are going to tell you that it gets better. And I’m here to tell you, it always doesn’t. It doesn’t, the world does not care about your dreams, they do not care one bit. But, I will say this, you gotta keep trying, it’s worth it. And if you give yourself an opportunity to try and survive failure, you will eventually find what you were meant to do. I’m telling you right now from my own personal experience, never stop fighting through the pick. If you can’t get in through the front door, go in through the side. If you can’t get in the side door, go in through the backyard, and if you can’t get in through the backyard, go in through the window. No matter what, never stop wearing your Air Pennies, and never stop fighting through the pick. I promise you, I promise you, you’ll eventually find where you are supposed to be. Now, I know there’s a lot of parents looking at me right now, like this guy is crazy, he’s only 29 years old, why is he pontificating about life? I 100% agree with you, but here’s what I do definitely know. I do know that the Epson 3640 is available right now for $129.99 at OfficeMax. My name is Hasan Minhaj, and thank you so much.

http://speakola.com/ideas/martin-flanagan-welcome-new-legal-year-2017

Marcus Westbury: 'How to fail and why it's important' - 2013

24 April, 2013, Deakin University, Geelong, Victoria

I was asked to give a commencement address at Deakin University today. For various reasons (mainly because i’ve never actually finished Uni myself) it felt like kind of a big deal to me. What follows below is my notes of more or less what i said. I kind of winged it in person…

Deputy Chancellor Meehan, Vice‐Chancellor, Professor Jane den Hollander; academic staff, distinguished guests, graduates, family and friends.

I am not sure why I was invited to be here. Let’s just say there are probably a fair few people far more famous and qualified than me who are otherwise engaged today.

I am sure that at least 80% of you don’t have any idea who I am. So a quick introduction. My name is Marcus. I’m 39 years old. I grew up in Newcastle – a place quite a lot like Geelong I reckon. I live in Melbourne. I have a beautiful wife and an adorable two and half year old son.

Over the course of the last decade I have done everything from run a few major-ish festivals, had a weekly column in a major newspaper for a bit, the ABC gave me a chance to write and present my own TV series. I even got to go to The Logies once.

A few years ago I accidentally started Renew Newcastle, a low budget cultural and creative project that borrows empty buildings and lends them to artists in my home town of Newcastle. It has become a model that has been picked up, adapted, and emulated in cities across Australia and around the world.

I feel lucky now. My life gives me the opportunity to travel. My work seems to have mostly earned the respect of colleagues and communities whose respect I personally value. I am, for the most part, a man who is I content in who I am and who enjoys what I do.

The interesting part is that I got here. I only got to anything like contentment through a process of almost continual failure.

Unlike those of you I am privileged to address today, I have never actually graduated from university. The only thing I feel qualified to talk to about today is failure.

Newcastle in the 1980s and 1990s was itself failing. Unemployment in my age group was more than 40%.

My own father’s business failed, and ultimately through no fault of their own my parents’ expectations for their own lives failed. They didn’t expect it and didnt handle it well. By the time that I was in my early 20s both my parents had killed themselves needlessly and way too young.

As you can imagine it had a profound effect on me.

At the time that I was attempting to study at university. On the upside I had a great time, it kept me distracted engaged and amused and I somehow managed to get sidetracked in every project and every initiative that wasn’t my study from the student paper and student politics to the uni bar. On the downside I was kicked out of my university degree.

I spent about three years unemployed.

It is customary for people at events like this to tell you how they never stopped pursuing their dream. How they had a vision and never let go of it. I didn’t. I actually stopped a lot. I gave up a lot. I went backwards quite a few times. And, truth be told, there never has actually been a big overarching vision. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up.

Yet somewhere, in the story of why I failed university there is a hint to how i ended up being good at something else. I responded to adversity not always by doing the best, or the right thing, but mostly by doing something.

In those years of unemployment my friends and I experimented in all manner of things. We took on spaces we couldn’t afford to try projects we hadn’t defined, and chase visions we hadn’t particularly thought through. I put on gigs and ultimately started festivals. We didn’t get grants — we didn’t know they existed — we mostly just got our mates and their mates to do stuff, joined it up and called it a festival.

Many of those early projects were terrible. They failed. Many of the gigs lost money. My idea for a small bar failed spectacularly. My events got shut down by over zealous authorities. I made many mistakes costly in coin and reputation.

But every time I stuffed something up I learnt something and became better at it.

Eventually, I made every mistake at everything I wanted to try my hand at and, as a result, I started to become good at it. I became uniquely and particualry good at some things because i was the only one stupid and persistent enough to keep doing them.

Understanding my own mistakes evolved into an understanding of the mistakes and the assumptions of the system i was operating in. Learning why I was failing taught me why others might be failing too. Renew Newcastle, which has now opened more than 100 creative projects in more than 50 empty buildings in that city, at its core is an exercise in removing the very same barriers that I have tripped over myself countless times. I have built on my own mistakes so that others can do what they want to try. Ironically, the main reason I started it was a failed idea for a TV show that never actually happened.

There is a Silicon Valley venture capital cliche that entrepreneurs should “Fail fast, fail cheap, and fail often.” Nothing quite so pithy was ever in my mind in Newcastle in 1995 but failing cheap and often has been one of the few constants in my life.

What are your horizons from today? Who knows? I could not have forseen where I ended up and I actually still have no idea where I’m going.

The only useful observation i can make is that it is not only possible but inevitable, that in order to do most things worth doing you will fail and flail along the way. It is ok. It is important.

The advice from me today is not so much to fail but dont be afraid to fail.

As as you do remember the golden rules of making mistakes: Own them and learn from them; Have another go; and, most importantly. NEVER REPEAT YOUR MISTAKES.

Congratulations to you all on achieving something I haven’t. I wish you well and I hope you find contentment and success.

I hope there is something useful that you can take away my words from today. If not, I’m certain I will be better at it next time.

Jimmy Kimmel: 'I worked harder on this speech than on all the homework that I had at UNLV' - UNLV, 2013

19 May, 2013. Thomas and Mack Center, Las Vegas, Nevada, USA

No transcript. If you feel like typing one, please email to submissions@speakola.com

Lance Jabr & Jeffrey Herman: 'Suck it Yale: A Musical Journey Through the High School - Experience' - 2008

June 2008, Mountain View High School, Los Altos region, California, USA

Faculty and distinguished guests

You know, the only thing better than completing high school, is the chance to convey the entire experience, to a captive audience, through a lengthy speech comprised of highly personal anecdotes.

A chance which I now plan to take full advantage of.

Now I realise that some of you may be less than excited for what is about to pass, so in an attempt to fix this problem, I’ve invited my friend Jeff up here to accompany me, with some mood setting music, that I hope will enhance the speech greatly.

[music wafts in]

Relaxing isn’t it?

Now the speech is designed to exactly what YOU want to hear.

And if you just relax, and let this experience move you, you’ll find that as soon as you’re not interested in what I’m saying, your subconscious will automatically fade my voice, gently out of your senses.

Time will fly by for you, and you may even slip in and out of consciousness, as you are left to relax with the soothing sounds of the keyboard.

So now, if everyone’s ready ... I would like to begin our mystical journey through the high school experience.

[jaunty music change]

Our adventure begins with freshman year, easily our best year of high school although you may not appreciate it, [speaks deliberately inaudibly with large gesticulations, music carries on]  ... that finding a date to homecoming is easy, if you sweat as much as I do, let me tell you ... [lapses into inaudible monologue again] ... that’s when I realised that everyone else’s bodies were changing too and I didn’t have to be embarrassed about what was happening to me. [lapses back into inaudible] ... by that time it was already four in the morning, and it would have taken me another three hours to have got all the maple syrup off a the walls [lapses into silent gesticulating] ... and that brings us to senior year.

Now don’t worry, your senior year of high school will be much simpler than the previous three, because, you’ve pretty much been checked out most of the time, but there is one little thing you should get out of the way, before you start caring, and I think I can best describe how that feels, with this metaphorical story.

Let’s say you’re a single guy, and you decide it’s time to start thinking about getting married. But you’re still young, you don’t want to rush into anything, so you spend years searching for the perfect girl. Every chance you get, you travel all over the country just to meet new people. Some you like more than others, some are too nerdy, some party too much, but finally, after all your searching, you think you’ve found the perfect one.

[dramatic music]

Oh she’s incredible, she’s fun, she’s smart, she’s sexy, everything you wanted in a woman.

You decide to propose.

But - you only get one shot, and you can’t screw it up, so you spend months agionising over how you’re going to do it. What you’re going to say to her. You set a deadline for yourself, so you cna’t put it off forever.

[Music faster]

And as the deadline approaches you begin to get more nervous, are you good enough, yes you perform well and get good marks, but is that all she wants? Does she need a man who can lead, or maybe you should have volunteered to coordinate that project last week. Does she want a man who can show compassion, or maybe you should have done more community service?

And maybe when that old woman asked you to help her across the street, you should have tricked her and laughed, it feels like everything you’ve been doing in your entire life has been leading up to this moment.

Finally the deadline is here

[Big dramatic piano]

Oh you’re so nervous. You’re sweating all over her. It’s like there’s ivy around your neck. She’s way out of your league. Is the ring big enough? Is it too late to go back? How many mistakes have you made so far? Can a public institution funded by a state government that’s millions of dollars in debt really provide the same level of education as an overpriced private school?

And then it’s over. You’ve submitted your proposal and there’s nothing more you can do.

And she looks at you ... and she says ...

[piano staccato]

Mmmmmm let me get back to you in like four months.

[jaunty music]

That’s pretty much what applying to college is like. You know what sucks the most about it? She’ll probably say no. But guess what you didn’t tell her. You proposed to like, hella backup chicks just in case she rejected you, and they’re all begging you to come and marry them instead.

So suck it Yale, I could never have married a smoker anyway.

Alright, now that we’ve completed high school, it’s time to start thinking about the future.

You know, a lot of people tell me that in like, twenty years, I’m going to go to a high school reunion, and I’m going to laugh at how stupid I was as a teenager.

I’d say, that sounds like a pretty good plan, because as teenagers, we’ve had to put up with a lot of ridiculous stuff to get to where we are today.

And as adults, we’re going to have to put up with a lot more ridiculous stuff to where we will be in twenty years.

And that’s been true for every generation. And I think the most important thing we can learn from that is, things just don’t always make sense. Life for example, if a couple of random guys give this really weird speech at your high school graduation, that you didn’t get at all, maybe it was just a dumb speech that wasn’t meant to be taken seriously 

Or maybe, maybe they were trying to say that life is ridiculous, and that being able to make a fool of yourself in front of a lot of people and then laugh about it, is a great skill that’s vital for success in all fields of life.

But they were probably just being dumb. Anyway, it’s not important because I doubt that’s happened to anyone here.

Although ... if it did happen to you, make you sure you never forget the guys who gave that speech, because I bet they were awesome. And, attractive, though you may never have noticed it for the entire duration of high school.

Just a thought.

[music restarts]

Alright, I guess that pretty much sums up everything I have to say.

The only thing left is, congratulations to the Mountain View High School class of 2008, and to everyone who helped us get here.

I look forward to laughing with you all about this, in twenty years.

Thank you.

Evan Bilberdorf: 'I put the fun in fundamentally incapable', Rundle College - 2013

June 2013, Rundle College, Calgary, Alberta, Canada

My name’s Evan, and I’m here today to reflect upon the past years of our high school, predict our outstanding, bright futures, and hopefully reduce you all to tears.

I would like to start by saying this is a huge huge honour ... for you to all be here listening to me, what a treat for you!

This speech is lovingly titled, life beyond the Rundle vest... and I’m going to begin by saying, I’m not going to feed you all the Hallmark versions of a valedictory address, you know what I’m referring to [mimics] ‘as I look out here, I see future pioneers of technology, lawyers and surgeons' ... Don’t get your hopes up!

No no it’s cruel to give you such high hopes. We’re all going to be broke students for the next sixteen years, so get used to it.

Having high school come to an end is a bit surreal.

If anything for the reason that now I’ll have to buy my own loose grey slacks so that construction workers have something to whistle at.

More importantly, it accurately and concisely ends what has been for most of us three six, and for some twelve years of education at Rundle.

Throughout those years we’ve created special bonds with the physical campus, the teaching staff, and undoubtedly each other. Admittedly, when I began writing this, it was difficult to encapsulate what Rundle had been to me.

Apart from a place to go and worship Mr Howk every day.

And a place that says ‘there’s no excuse for speeding in the parking lot’. It sounds like a challenge!

I liken it to a big community, our diversity being our strength. And I would like to say that it has been a privilege to be part of this community for so long.

We all know the warm, safe, familiar feel of our Rundle sweaters. You know, forty percent nylon, sixty percent cotton. And pre-washed with the tears of school children.

For a long time now, this has been our identity. Something that identified us merely by appearance.

I grew fond of the uniform, because, personally I’m sick and tired of being outdressed by the overly stylish Keenan McVeigh.

The only one who could pull it off would be Lucas with his longshawn suit.

Although the scratch wool uniform made it seem as though we were all the same, it enabled us to have a certain unity, a togetherness. Similar itchy, red patches of eczema could only draw us closer together.

It was in those clothes that I learned math, English, most of chemistry, Mr. Franklin has a very soft voice, it’s not my fault, however this stylish ensemble has served a larger purpose than just covering my tattoos all these years.

It has become a constant in all of our lives. Something that nobody will physically miss, but the familiarity and the security we will all wish to have back.

So when I was looking back at the time spent at Rundle, between the embarrassing haircuts and everyone having braces at some point, it was the only thing that was consistent.

So when we finish our last diploma and we take our sweaters off for the very last time, we aren’;t just saying goodbye to highly fashionable outer wear, we say goodbye to years of memories and experiences that we’ve had.

In this regard, I’m not surprisingly not ashamed to admit that I’m going to miss the uniform.

But most importantly all the people I’ve met in it.

I would be remiss had I not take time to actually thanks some people.

Without # and her help, this speech would not exist, and I would certainly not be literate enough to read it. And with out Miss # something Ukrainian I would not actually be graduating, so her wonderful introduction would never have existed.

I thank both of those teachers from the bottom of my heart, that is already filled with love for myself.

When I look out at this auditorium today, I’m surprised that the # of Tim # isn’t actually here. Manages will surely be sad to see one of his best customers go.

What I do see are the smiles of good friends that have grown up with me, through the truly greasy years of junior high. It is with this sight that I speak directly to you, my fellow graduates.

There are seventy seven of us graduating today.

I feel as though I barely know some of you, something that I regret.

I also regret knowing far far too much about some of you.

For example, nobody should ever be comfortable enough with somebody to ask, ‘Brooke, yogurt doesn’t’ have an expiry date, right?’

To hear the answer is ‘you’re fine, the good folks at Yoplait would not do that to you.’

Your all lucky to see Josh here today, and not in his natural habitat of the West Side Gym. I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t try to bicep curl his diploma.

To have the future Yankees hall of famer, Ryan Cozoli graduate with us today, it’s a true honour.

There’s one guy who doesn’t need a high school diploma to know how to spell win.

And Angus, I won’t make any jokes about you. Please don’t hurt me!

This is the first time I’ve seen some of you girls without Starbucks cups in your hands. I’m al little weirded out that you were able to sit still for so long. Yeah, resting heart rate, it’s weird isn’t it?

I would like to have something insightful to say about the future. But the simple truth is, I’m absolutely terrified of it. I have not marketable skills, reading gives me a headache, I’m not a particularly hard worker.

I put the fun, in fundamentally incapable. And the can in ‘cannot do most simple tasks’.

Most of you will never see me again, depending how often you check the FBI’s most wanted list.

Although I’ve established that many of you are much more talented than I, and thus more qualified to give this advice, my final and only partition of wisdom is this:

Regardless of your experience here over the past years, we have shaped each other, for better or for worse. We all wore that uniform together, becoming strong, capable individuals. And that is due to the people you are sitting with, right now.

Try to remember them as they are now, and not at that tall awkward stage of grade 8 that some of us may still be in.

I would like to truly thank all of you for giving me the honour of speaking on your behalf. 

But most importantly, for being the best community that I could ask for for the last six years of my life.

We’ve now all gotten through high school, which is no easy feat. Most importantly, we got through it together.

Congratulations, class of 2013.

Unknown: 'Sorry I forgot to tell you. Sometimes I dream in musicals', East Jessamine High School - 2008

May 2008, East Jessamine High School, Nicholasville, Kentucky, USA

I want to say how honoured I am to stand before you all.

My friends, my classmates, my family, my academic adjudicators, and the people who thought their connecting flight to Chicago was leaving out of this terminal.

Go outside. Take the moving sidewalk. But before we begin, Southland has kindly asked me to point out your emergency exits on the left, and the right of the building, and in case my speech crashes, your seats do double as a floatation device.

Now I’m not trying to start off by making fun of Southland. I don’t think you realise what a rush it is to speak in a building of this size and magnitude. I google earthed this place on the way in to give to some of my family as directions, and it took up two pages. It’s very impressive.

Yet before I stood before this crowd, I thought I wouldn’t see any friends.  I thought there’d be too many people for me to pick you out one by one. But that’s what I found to amaze me standing before you. When I look around, I see people who over the last twelve years, I have grown very close to. So close to, today, instead of giving the speech I had in theory planned, I’m going to tell you about a dream I’ve had.

No not that dream, don’t worry.

But over the past twelve years, I’ve had a some sort of reoccurring dream about this day. I dreamed that I would stand before you all, and I would get to say those words that you’ve been waiting to hear over those twelve long years ... twelve long hard painful years. Congratulations East Jessamine High School Class of 2008, [singing] ‘looks like we made it after all’.  Sorry I forgot to tell you.  Sometimes I dream in musicals.

And then after I sang that song, some [ ??] would come up here, and ask us to take these funny looking cat toys off our geometrically shaped hats. And moving to the other side. And then in my dream, they play that awful, 'As We Go On' song, and I would shed a tear. Now today is the day I get to live out that dream, standing before you all today. Someone’s going to come up here - tell us to move our tassles, and god forbid they play a different song at graduation one year!

I suggest Freebird if you’re looking for something for next year’s ceremonies.

But one thing that’s different about today and my dream. Okay a couple of things are different. You’re all fully clothed. You don’t have animal heads and angel wings. And I’m not going to have to change my sheets when I leave here hopefully. But one thing solely is different. Standing before you today, the most emotionally charged day of my life to this point, the first major milestone on the path to my inevitable successes, I thought I would need to cry, but for some reason, I have no urge to tear -- happy or sad.  

Partially because I know if I did, WK would never let me live it down. For how many times I’ve told the story over the years, how in fifth grade every time Wes would steal my chocolate milk, and I’d poke him in the stomach, and once he cried. But a more legitimate reason for my lack of tears would be this ... and I can’t express it better than Dr Seuss said before me:

'Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.'

But when I read this quotation, when preparing for this speech, I felt kind of selfish thinking that I would cry today standing before you all. Would I look back at the memories we’ve shared together as a class over the past twelve years? I should be smiling for the rest of the summer, maybe even longer if I didn’t have to go to college at the end of it.

And for the record, I am going to college, I’m sorry if you lost that bet.

Standing in the cafeteria, tenth grade, watching AH teach our grade the very practical definition of collateral damage in a food fight as he hit everybody around us. Hitting JB in the face by accident in French class. Winning ‘Air Band’. Losing Air Band, even though, we kinda shoulda won, whatever.

The West Jessamine student section holding up a picture of Justin and I in a very compromising position. I have somebody else, I don’t want to talk about it in front of everyone.

These memories are more important than anything else I had over the last twelve years. More important that this cap and gown. Or this ... [class of 2008 scarf] ok whatever that is. But here’s what I want to make sure that you know this. These should not be the best twelve years of your life. That is a pain I don’t wish on any of my enemies. If CATS testing and portfolios are the best years of your life then you have done something wrong.

So this is what I want to stress to you today. As my last, and honestly I never expected very much from any of you, first demand as Commander-in-Chief, I want all of you to leave here today, and make memories so happy, so great, that if these memories that we’re talking about today’s sole job was to make a shelf for your new ones, they would fail the weight. Because that’s what life’s about.

So as I sit down today and have somebody come up here and tell us to turn our tassles, because I doubt they’d let me do it for fear that I’d sing again,  I start to put this day to memory. Because that’s what I realised I want all of my memories to come from. Dreams I got to live out, I can now reflect upon down the road. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has dreamed about walking across the stage in this ridiculous attire. It means a lot to all of you, it’s why you’re still here. So that’s what I want to tell you. Live out your dreams, quickly, because you don’t know how much longer we all have left. Live them out, but once you have, lay them out, fast enough to make new ones, live them out too. So one day, when I meet you all again down the road, we’ll have some awesome stories to talk about.

Congratulations, I honour you all, and good luck. Not that any one of you should need it.

Arjun: 'Babies, it’s your world', Pine View High School - 2013

May 2013, Pine View High School, Florida

Good afternoon.

My name’s Arjun.

Graduates, parents, Coach Bay and the [half show oysters], esteemed faculty and administration, and of course Dr Dean.

Good afternoon, and congratulations to the Pine View Class of 2013.

I would like to say, thank you for giving me this opportunity to speak. I am a hundred percent sure you will regret it. Now, I would be remiss if I addressed the class of 2013 without mentioning a classmate who is no longer with us. TR was an amazing friend of mine, a brilliant violinist, and a genuinely good person. And I’m truly saddened that he couldn’t be graduating with all of us today. I would hope that in all we can do we will never forget TR, our classmate, and that we can keep his memory alive.

But before I begin I want to apologise for the abundance of quotes that I will employ today. I thought it was only appropriate given how quotatiously inclined our departing principal Mr Lago is, to include the wise words of many sagacious individuals. With that I’d like to start with a quote from rapper and philosopher Nick Minaj. In her conveniently titled song High School, she sings [singing] ‘anywhere, everywhere, baby it’s your world, aint it /Baby it’s your world, aint it?’

I could go on but I digress.

I realise that I probably shouldn’t be saying ‘aint’ at a celebration of the triumph of education. But that is my theme for today, ladies and gentlemen, babies it’s your world. You just have to own it. Being a graduate of Pine View High School means you ‘ll be left on your own to conquer the real world. It means there is no more hand holding, no more living with mom and dad, no more wildly inappropriate PhD commentary, and sadly, no more Nacho Day.

Graduating means using your Pine View education to be successful, and to give back to the community that we have been so blessed to come from. Yet recalling the thirteenth president or the derivative of 4x4, is not the education that will really make you change this world. (By the way it’s Millard Filmore and 16x3). This dumb guy Albert Einstein once said, ‘education is what remains after one has forgotten everything he learned in school’. After so many years at Pine View, we have learned how to learn, and have been taught not so much what to think, but how to think. And that is the true measure of our Pine View education.

More than anything, I urge you all to dream and to dare and don’t be afraid of failing in your aspirations. My boy Teddy Roosevelt once said, ‘far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checked by failure, than to live in the grey twilight that knows no victory nor defeat .

And that my friends, is what we should do.

From this country’s inception, from when our founding fathers dared to envision a brand new nation, to the space race, when Americans dared to put a man on the moon, to the glorious KFC double down, when we dared to replace the bread on a sandwich with not one but two chicken patties! Ladies and gentleman, success has always been about daring.

So the thought I’ll leave you with today is in your post high school life, don’t shy away from using your many gifts. Whether you want to be a big time lawyer, a chemist, whether you want to be a doctor, yes I’m talking to the Indian kids out there, whether you want to be an SNL cast member, or whether you just want to ‘play the por-tes’. Go for it. And apply to be on MTV, may they always help you out.

But seriously, if you don’t dare, you’ll just be another smart kid. So, I hope you do, because, baby, it’s your world. Aint it?

Thank you.