Rob Shuck entered Cornell University the same year I began the fourth grade. It was 1993: William Jefferson Clinton was the newly elected, scandal-free president; Russia was awkwardly adjusting to capitalism; MTV’s “The Real World” was one year old. Despite the best interests of all involved, the world was awash in fluorescent colors and Beanie Babies.
Mr. Shuck, as a gangly and doe-eyed freshman in 1993, was, by all accounts, ambitious. He kicked off what would become a college career of titanic proportions by pursuing an engineering degree. After three years of scholarship, however, it became clear that computer science was his true calling; he left engineering and began accumulating credits all over again. Then, following a brief romance with computer science, Mr. Shuck determined that, in fact, he was meant to be a commercial pilot. With this in mind, he began leisurely studying of “atmospheric sciences”-though he would eventually settle on economics and finance. And all the while, as the years ticked by and new crops of freshmen came and went, Mr. Shuck remained, happily, in the basement of his fraternity house. For Mr. Shuck, each year seemed to bring with it both a precipitous decline in ambition and a new, wholly unrelated major.
But Rob Shuck is no quitter, and his story has a happy ending. With considerable fanfare and the sounding of trumpets, Mr. Shuck will graduate next fall after 13 years of undergraduate work. He is 30 years old.
The life and times of Rob Shuck (which is documented beautifully by Mickey Rapkin in this month’s GQ) seem especially appropriate given my current predicament. You see, I am-despite my best efforts-nearing graduation. And thus, while a good portion of me is prone to condemn Mr. Shuck for his world-class indolence, I can’t help but appreciate the thoroughness with which he is avoiding the real world. Respect certainly isn’t the right word, but I at least “marvel” at his ability to accomplish so little, so confidently. In short, though living in a fraternity house at 30 years old sounds like some kind of Sartrian hell, I can empathize with the motivation. The world, it seems, can be a scary, genuinely un-fun place.
Ah, but I am here to report that hope remains! You see, I did a little investigation of the post-collegiate world this summer and found that our prospects are actually quite good. It turns out that, if internships can be any guide, life does go on after college: the sun continues shining, the earth continues spinning and fun is still an option for those over the age of 22. I saw, with my own eyes, a city’s worth of twenty-somethings blissfully overindulging each night of the week. I met scores of suit-wearers that claimed to be truly happy. I encountered adults of all stripes that sincerely enjoyed, and felt fulfilled by, their jobs. I even ran into lawyers that smiled regularly. And I was reminded again this weekend when I went home for my cousin’s wedding that we hardly have the market cornered on drinking and debauchery. It seems that there is life left to be lived.
My point is this: breathe deep, find something you wouldn’t mind doing, and start doing it. For me, it was calming to think that though I may not feel like leaving, there is at least something for which to leave. So, practice real world living with an internship or two, and allow yourself to be buoyed by the fact that literally every happy, successful adult has once stood in your shoes. Besides, as Mr. Shuck illustrates, the alternative is pretty unpalatable. Who wants to be living in Millbrook at 30?