In the awkward hollow between graduation and the actual end of my UI experience, I ran across Chicago Tribune columnist Mary Schmich’s 1997 piece entitled “Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young.” You probably know it as “Wear Sunscreen.”

“Wear Sunscreen” was a musical adaptation of Schmich’s column, released the year I graduated eighth grade. It became a sort of anthem for anyone who owns a tassel with a cheap metal “99” affixed to it. It became one of the most-played songs of the waning days of the last decade. And it became a piece of Americana.

In May, as I faced the inevitable nearing of my own actual college graduation, I wanted to offer my own words of advice to all incoming freshmen. In four years at Illinois I earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees, visited every Big Ten campus, and had many drunken nights and faced sobering realities. Looking back, I loved almost every minute of it.

With that in mind, I offer this advice.

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ’11:

Call home, often.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, calling home would be it. The long-term benefits of staying in touch with your parents – the dispensers of wisdom, and more importantly, money – have been proven by centuries of college students. The rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own four-year Illinois experience. I will dispense that advice now.

Enjoy scheduling classes any time you want. Never again can you take every Tuesday off, or make sure you only have to work one hour on Fridays, and never before noon. The great thing about college is setting your own schedule. Make the most of it.

Study for your midterms. Professors are much more likely to take pity on a student who was doing well in a class and bombed the final than one who dropped the ball all semester long.

Mudslide on the Quad after a hard rain.

Exercise.

Thank the people who offer you jobs, help with projects, or recommend classes. They are the kind of connections you will want to keep all your life.

Sleep.

Don’t worry about what to call your relationships. Maybe you’re friends with benefits, maybe you’re dating, maybe you’re exclusive. As long as you let your guard down long enough to risk romance, the battle is won.

Eat fat every week you have a meal plan. It is the only time in college you will be able to afford steak on a regular basis. Bring your friends in apartments to the residence halls for lunch once in a while.

Dance. Dance at bars, dance in your pajamas, dance in the rain. Just dance.

Take one class, every semester, that has nothing to do with your major. Take an American Indian Studies class. Learn Swedish. Weave baskets. Step outside your realm of comfort and monotony long enough to breath in the wider world around you.

Karaoke.

Live in Urbana once, but leave before it makes you a hippie. Live in Champaign once, but leave before it makes you a frat boy.

Make friends with athletes. You never know when you’ll be at a bar, find yourself getting hit on by a major creeper, and appreciate being able to grab the nearest 300 pounds of steel and claim him as your boyfriend.

Give a little when you fight with your roommate. Sometimes you’re right. Sometimes your roommate is. In the end, it’s better to be friends long enough to attend each other’s children’s weddings than cut ties over taking out the trash or washing dishes.

Do one thing to give back to the city that will host you for four years. Volunteer. Contribute to society.

Go to class.

Don’t define yourself by your college experience. Embrace the person it has helped you become, revel in the memories, but know that if you are lucky you have 60 more years to achieve greatness. No one should peak at 22.

But until then, call home, often.