First, pick a path: Fashion or Pokemon. This will decide everything. This will decide your friends, where you will work, even the woman you will marry and how your kids will be laughed at.

Pick 3 things you want to study. You don’t do them, but you always bring up how you “would like to do them.” You call them “hobbies.” You don't start studying those things until you are about to graduate in a field that did not make the top 3. You are called a “very normal-looking straight white boy” and make it your life goal to never be called that again.

You make something “your thing”. Perhaps it’s playing Fifa. Perhaps it’s being known as the “pizza guy” because you are “allllways chomping on some ‘za.” Perhaps it’s allllways wearing sweatpants to class, or perhaps it’s dressing as a woman on a full moon. You decide “your thing” is talking about how crazy you were in high school two months ago and don’t leave your thing until something really bad happens like a family member dies or you switch your major.

You try to learn how to draw. You buy minimal art stuff and do minimal art things. When asked to do art things, you draw shapes and circles and call it an “abstract horse” or something, and sneak in how your parents have cancer. You make it a joke. It is not a funny joke, but you make sure your professor knows that you too can get “emotional”.

You try to be who you were in high school, except older and you have new hair. You establish why life is hard. You become an asshole. This does not have to last long, but it does. You unleash the badassest part of you like Gaston in Beauty and the Beast. You are labeled as “spontaneous,” “unpredictable,” and “dangerous.” You look and sound like a guy who would make a great “project boyfriend.” You go to your first party and you’re remembered as that “guy who looks like Orlando Bloom.” You say you get that a lot but you disagree. Then you get stuck in an unbreakable circle of people and spin around quickly as you hear faint whispers of “he is so normal looking,” “I am not growing my armpits out anymore,” and “he does look like Orlando Bloom.” You talk to the girl who doesn’t want her ambitious armpits anymore. You say you are having fun. Say you are living it up. Say “I just don’t know anymore” as you are throwing up pizza and silver rum only through your nose on armpit girl’s dorm room floor as she is shaving. You start crying and search for a hug. It doesn’t matter who tries to hug you first, armpit girl or her quiet roommate that always wears a pikachu beanie, whoever it is will be the one that truly loves you and you must instinctively tongue her. When both of them quickly say “I’m tired, goodnight” you shrug your shoulders like a dumb husband in a 90’s sitcom, walk through your throw up and leave.

You find a girlfriend. Make sure she is interesting, almost lesbian. You get your septum pierced, or a tattoo on your knuckles. If you were to do both, you would do it right before you get new girlfriend. New girlfriend starts with short hair. You say you like it and grow your hair out, because that is what she likes. You say “cute” a lot more than you use to and now you are on the right track of a normal healthy relationship. But you decide that you don’t like the parameters of a normal healthy relationship, and go rogue.

In rogue phase, you go to bars. You smoke the cigarettes, and get to the point where you smoke the cigarettes by yourself. Once there, you see cute girls walk by and toss your cigarette like a hat after work. Acting like a Jet in West Side Story, you lean over and side-step behind the cute girls while snapping your fingers and laughing like a hyena. When the girls walk faster say, “what? You didn’t like it? Release your inhibitions and feel the rain on your skin! No one else can feel it for you, only you can let it in!” And never see those cute girls again until one of them is in your speech class and you say “oh crud.”

Establish you are still in rogue phase. You let everyone know it. You drink beer in dorm room. Smoke weed in dorm room, and tell everyone how awesome as shit your dorm room is. You leave a party without telling anyone, so you can establish the state of your life as you walk and pee on some flowers in a park. You get cold and scared you are going to get mugged, and after day one of the rogue phase, you decide that riding a scooter is your new thing.

Your parents tell you to pay off the rest of your loans. You consider being a pastor with a “craazzzy past”. You consider why you are paying for school now. Perhaps this was because they saw a C on your report card. Perhaps because they would rather have a hungry goat than an artsy son. Perhaps it’s because you have a septum ring. Perhaps because someone told your parents they saw you pissing on flowers. You take septum ring out and watch sports.