Why are graduation speeches always so boring? Graduations are already long enough because of the volume of people walking across the stage. Why must I also sit through tedious platitudes and cliché anecdotes? Instead of being inspired, I just want to leave early and never attend another graduation. Valedictorians get a pass because they don’t have a choice. But those who voluntarily hold up thousands of people with their twaddle, to you I say: do better or be silent. 

After my graduation ceremony, my mother asked what I would’ve said if I’d given a speech. I jokingly rattled off the first few lines of the speech, which I’ve now written below. Intrigued, I decided to finish it. So here’s what I would have said if I’d given a speech. I hope it inspires future speakers to think outside the box.

The Speech: 

Law school made me think a lot about death. I was haunted by the belief that when you die, you relive your life in what feels like real-time, even though it is but a matter of seconds. Now, I don’t know if this is true. I tried looking it up, but the answer was unclear, and those who might be able to resolve the mystery are unfortunately unavailable. The reason this idea haunted me was because it dawned on me that if it were true, I would have to relieve every second of constitutional law and contracts. For the first time in my life, I feared death. 

I also thought a lot about death because during law school we were busy memorizing balancing tests. Not because balancing tests bore me to death (although they do) but because I’ve often thought the most difficult balancing test is living for today while planning for tomorrow. Indeed, during law school, I often thought to myself: “If I die tomorrow, what would I wish I had done today.” The idea was that I would think carefully about how I was using my time and find a way to strike an ideal balance. But usually my answer was: skip the reading and eat a whole tub of ice cream. I knew law school was going to change me, but I was hoping that change wouldn’t involve diabetes. 

Balancing tests are the bread and butter of many law school classes, which is actually slightly absurd because typically you don’t have people apply tests for something they know nothing about. A balanced life is a foreign concept to law students and especially to fully-fledged lawyers. Billing clients by seven-minute intervals is not conducive to balance. There are thousands of adjectives you could use to describe lawyers and “balanced” is probably dead last on the list. Think about it, you’ve never asked someone about a lawyer and gotten the reply, “That lawyer, she’s a balanced lawyer.” If I heard that, I’d think it was an insult! 

After my last final exam ever, I sat in Huntington Park and stared blankly at the cherry blossoms. For most of law school, I lived a block away and often took my sister’s kids to the playground. As I sat there listening to the sounds of children playing and dogs barking, I wondered to myself, “Why didn’t I take the kids to the park more? Why did I try so hard? What was the point of all that?” Truly, on my deathbed, I will not be shaking my fist at the sky and crying, “Why, oh why, didn’t I study harder for contracts? I deserved an A!” Maybe I’ll say, “Why did I eat so much ice cream?!” If I do have regrets, I suspect I will regret the time I didn’t spend with my family. I hope I will be able to fondly recall all the precious moments I shared with those I love, including the precious laughter of my niece when I tickle her toes while she swings in the park. But it’s easy to forget to make time for those moments when you’re faced with deadlines and fancy promotions. And maybe that’s just me; I’m not here to preach to you. Maybe you’ll be content on your deathbed kept warm by bags of money and law firm-branded bedpans. Or maybe you’d like to warm yourself half with money bags, and half with those you love.

The point is we can’t have it all. I mean, isn’t that what law school was all about? No matter what cohort we were in, we all took You Can’t Have It All 101. That’s what the dreaded curve was about, right? (Which is ridiculous, if you think about it, because the argument for the curve is: life is hard, learn how to settle. Puh-lease. I know how to settle; I attended UC Hastings.) 

Joking aside, I know we’ve already learned we can’t have it all. But the balancing test we will face won’t be predicably formatted in IRAC—it will happen every day, in every moment, in every decision. No pressure. But if we made it through law school, I think we can figure this out.

So, as you revel in this tremendous accomplishment, I invite you to think about death. At the very least, maybe have some ice cream.