At the age of 18, I’d already been acting for 7 years, and assumed I find a more serious and profound path in college. So freshman fall I decided to take neurologist and advanced modern Hebrew literature because I was serious and intellectual. Needless to say, I should have failed both.
I got Bs, for your information, and to this day, every Sunday I burn a small effigy to the pagan Gods of grade inflation. But as I was fighting my way through Aleph Bet Yod Y shua in Hebrew and the different mechanisms of neuro-response, I saw friends around me writing papers on sailing and pop culture magazines, and professors teaching classes on fairy tales and The Matrix. I realized that seriousness for seriousness’s sake was its own kind of trophy, and a dubious one, a pose I sought to counter some half-imagined argument about who I was. There was a reason that I was an actor. I love what I do. And I saw from my peers and my mentors that it was not only an acceptable reason, it was the best reason.
When I got to my graduation, siting where you sit today, after 4 years of trying to get excited about something else, I admitted to myself that I couldn’t wait to go back and make more films. I wanted to tell stories, to imagine the lives of others and help others do the same. I have found or perhaps reclaimed my reason. You have a prize now or at least you will tomorrow. The prize is Harvard degree in your