- If only I had realized that I didn't have to stay in a class with a mentally unstable acting teacher, I might have saved myself a bout of depression and subsequent time in therapy. For some reason, I had the idea that I had to stick it out, that leaving class would be a sign of failure. Rather than giving myself permission to transfer, I stuck it out and cost myself my own sanity.
- The day that I signed on the dotted line of my promissory note, I didn't even understand what it would mean to have to pay back more than $40,000 in student loans. I'll tell you what it means: living in a crappy apartment in Queens well into my 30s. I vaguely remember my dad trying to get the message through to me, but I must have had cotton in my teenage ears.
- My freshman year, I had a relationship that ended suddenly when my boyfriend left me for a now famous rock star. After that, I decided I was done with college boys. I dated older guys who were bad news. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Meanwhile, there were these awesome guys my own age who liked me and I wouldn't give them the time of day. I wish I'd given all those nice guys a chance so I would have had more positive formative relationship experiences. Why did no one explain this to me?
- I made a poor choice of employment. Instead of taking a nice, innocent job at a bookstore or coffee shop, I chose to work at a popular NYC nightclub. Why? Oh, because I could work two or three nights a week and bring home $300. Plus, I could hang around with older people and enjoy easy access to alcohol and pot. This "glamorous job" ended up costing me more than I made. It wasn't worth any of that fast cash I brought home and spent on stupid crap. I didn't have the wisdom to know how much your surroundings affect your state of mind. I was exposed to the seedy underbelly of New York before I was mature enough to understand it. The only positive was that by the time I turned 21, I never wanted to set foot in a club again, my hard partying days were over.
