When I first started writing for the Life section a little more than a year ago, I was assigned to write a biweekly “how to” column. The idea stemmed from a lingering tween obsession with “How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days” and a fantasy in which I magically morphed into Kate Hudson, or, more specifically, Andie Anderson: How to Girl.
Subconsciously, this concept was likely also motivated by the idea my worldly advice would lead me to my own Benjamin Barry (Matthew McConaughey).
A semester later, with no god-like man by my side, I realized at the wise age of 19 I really didn’t know how to do many things. So, I switched to the format most columnists prefer — slightly sarcastic, slightly punny, largely angstful ramblings about the life of an upperclassmen searching for her higher purpose between the slices of bread on a Little John’s sandwich.
Today, however, I woke up without much to say. I spent all day Friday at Pippin Hill, soaking in beautiful scenes and beautiful friends. Unsurprisingly, I now have — to be blunt — a hell of a lot of homework. But considering we go to “the University” and don’t at all feel like total idiots calling it such, this is to be expected.
Since I am feeling uncharacteristically quiet in this moment, I would like to return to my how-to roots through my dear old dad. As we approach Oct. 10 — or “the greatest day in the history of mankind,” as my father so humbly refers to his birthday — I can think of no better way to pass along some midterm week wisdom to you.
1. Wake up singing.
If you know Tony Albracht, you know he does not wake up quietly. For 18 years of my life, I woke up to the sound of my dad getting in the shower singing “Oklahoma.” There aren’t enough words to describe how annoying this is when you’re 13, but at 20 I realize how hard it is to wake up with a smile and a song every single day. Life is short and fun, but the day-to-day can be monotonous and a bit grueling. To make life worth living, you have to find the music and hold on to it.
2. Don’t take anything too seriously.
Don’t ask my dad a question unless you want an honest answer. He is more than okay with telling you he thought the food at your upper crust restaurant was pretty bland and the service was crappy. His favorite items of clothing include his 100 percent polyester neon yellow Statue of Liberty shirt, which he wears every year on the Fourth of July, and a Tasmanian devil polo — with matching shorts — that regularly makes an appearance on the golf course. People love him for it, if only because it’s so real. At the age of 52, he is easily more popular with my friends than I am. Point of the story: there is no point in trying to be anyone but you or being anything but honest.
3. Work hard, but be humble about your success
My dad grew up on a farm in Hereford, Texas with 11 siblings. If he wanted to go college, it was on his own dime and of his own volition. So he did. He got a full ride to Texas A&M and paid his own way through medical school. Let me tell you: that’s a lot to live up to as his child. But what makes him so deserving is he would never tell you any of this himself. He works as hard today as he did then and, because of that, deserves all the success that comes his way.
4. Don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow.
This is the refrain I hear every time I phone home, drowning in an exam-induced panic. The calm, slow voice on the other end of the line always tells me to take it day by day, doing what I can and letting the rest go. “Kid, you can’t carry the weight of the world on your shoulders,” is another favorite of his. I got my drive and my intensity from my mom, but from my dad I learned to let go and create my own happiness.
As you embark on these next few weeks of unbearable stress, try not to carry all your worries for the month, semester or year along with you. Try to wake up with a song, take a minute to laugh at the absurdities of life and when success finds you — as I know it will — accept it graciously and without presumption. And of course, don’t forget to phone home for a few words of wisdom — or just to wish your dad the happiest of happy birthdays.