Ellen DeGeneres

Thank you President Cowan, Mrs. President Cowan, distinguished guests, undistinguished guests, you know who you are honored faculty, and creepy Spanish teacher. And thank you to all the graduating, Class of 2009. I realize most of you are hungover and have splitting headaches and haven't slept since Fat Tuesday, but you can't graduate till I finish, so listen up.

When I was asked to make the commencement speech, I immediately said yes. Then I went to look up what commencement meant. Which would've been easy if I had a dictionary, but most of the books in our house are Porsches, and they're all written in Australian.

So I had to break the word down myself to find out the meaning. Commencement. Common and cement. Common cement. You commonly see cement on sidewalks.

Sidewalks have cracks, and if you step on a crack, you break your mother's back. So there's that. But I'm honored that you've asked me here to speak at your common cement.

I thought that you had to be a famous alumnus, alumini, aluminum, You had to graduate from the school, and I didn't go to college, here, and as, I don't know if President Cowan knows, I didn't go to college at all, any college. And I'm not saying you wasted your time or money, but look at me, I'm a huge celebrity. Although I did graduate from the school of hard knocks.

Our mascot was the knockers. I spent a lot of time here growing up. My mom worked at Newcomb, and I would go there every time I needed to steal something out of her purse.

But why am I here today? Clearly not to steal. You're too far away, and I'd never get away with it.

I'm here because of you because I can't think of a more tenacious, more courageous graduating class. I mean, look at you all wearing your robes. Usually, when you're wearing a robe at 10:00 in the morning, it means you've given up.

I'm here because I love New Orleans. I was born and raised here. I spent my formative years here, and like you while I was living here, I only did laundry six times.

When I finished school, I was completely lost, and by school, I mean middle school, but I went ahead and finished high school anyway. And I really, I had no ambition. I didn't know what I wanted to do.

I did everything from, I shucked oysters, I was a hostess, I was a bartender, I was a waitress, I painted houses, I sold vacuum cleaners. I had no idea, and I thought I'd just finally settle on some job, and I would make enough money to pay my rent, maybe have basic cable, maybe not. I didn't really have a plan.

My point is that by the time I was your age, I really thought I knew who I was, but I had no idea. Like, for example, when I was your age, I was dating men. So what I'm saying is, when you're older, most of you will be gay.

Is anybody writing this stuff down? Parents? Anyway, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and the way I ended up on this path was from a very tragic event. I was, I maybe 19, and my girlfriend at the time was killed in a car accident.

And I passed the accident, and I didn't know it was her, and I kept going, and I found out shortly after that it was her. And I was living in a basement apartment. I had no money.

I had no heat, no air. I had a mattress on the floor, and the apartment was infested with fleas, and I was soul-searching. I was like, "Why is she suddenly gone and there are fleas here?

I don't understand. There must be a purpose, and wouldn't it be so convenient if we could just pick up the phone and call God and ask these questions?" And I started writing, and what poured out of me was an imaginary conversation with God, which was one-sided, and I finished writing it, and I looked at it and I said to myself. And I hadn't even been doing stand-up ever.

There was no club in town. I said, "I'm gonna do this on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson." At the time, he was the king.

"And I'm gonna be the first woman in the history of the show to be called over to sit down," and several years later, I was the first woman in the history of the show, and only woman in the history of the show, to sit down because of that phone conversation with God that I wrote.

And I started this path of stand-up, and it was successful, and it was great, but it was hard because I was trying to please everybody, and I had this secret that I was keeping that I was gay, and I thought if people found out, they wouldn't like me, they wouldn't laugh at me. Then my career turned into, I got my own sitcom, and that was very successful.

Another level of success, and I thought, "What if they find out I'm gay? Then they'll never watch." And this was a long time ago.

You probably. This was when we just had white presidents. But anyway, this was back many years ago. And I finally decided that I was living with so much shame and so much fear that I just couldn't live that way anymore, and I decided to come out and make it creative, and my character would come out at the same time, and it wasn't to make a political statement.

It wasn't to do anything other than to free myself up from this heaviness that I was carrying around, and I just wanted to be honest. And I thought, "What's the worst that can happen? I can lose my career."

I did. I lost my career. I got the show was canceled after six years without even telling me. I read it in the paper.

The phone didn't ring for three years. I had no offers. Nobody wanted to touch me at all.

And yet I was getting letters from kids that almost committed suicide but didn't because of what I did, and I realized that I had a purpose, and it wasn't just about me and it wasn't about celebrity, but I felt like I was being punished and it was a bad time.

I was angry, I was sad, and then I was offered a talk show, and the people that offered me the talk show tried to sell it, and most stations didn't wanna pick it up. Most people didn't wanna buy it 'cause they thought nobody would watch me. And really when I look back on it, I wouldn't change a thing.

I mean, it was so important me, for me to lose everything because I found out what the most important thing is is to be true to yourself. And ultimately, that's, that's what's gotten me to this place. I don't live in fear.

I'm free. I have no secrets, and I know I'll always be okay because no matter what, I know who I am. So in conclusion, when I was younger, I thought success, was something different. I thought, "When I grow up, I wanna be famous.

I wanna be a star. I wanna be in movies. When I grow up, I wanna see the world, drive nice cars.

I wanna have groupies," to quote the Pussycat Dolls. How many people thought it was boobies, by the way? It's not. It's groupies.

But my idea of success is different today, and as you grow, you'll realize definition of success changes. For many of you today, success is being able to hold down 20 shots of tequila.

For me, the most important thing in your life is to live your life with integrity and not to give into peer pressure to try to be something that you're not, to live your life as an honest and compassionate person, to contribute in some way. So to conclude my conclusion- Follow your passion. Stay true to yourself.

Never follow someone else's path unless you're in the woods and you're lost and you see a path, then by all means you should follow that. Don't give advice. It'll come back and bite you when they ask.

Don't take anyone's advice. So my advice to you is to be true to yourself and everything will be fine, and I know that a lot of you are concerned about your future, but there's no need to worry.

The economy is booming. The job market is wide open. The planet is just fine.

It's gonna be great. You've already survived a hurricane. What else can happen to you?

And as I mentioned before, some of the most devastating things that happen to you will teach you the most, and now you know the right what, the right questions to ask for your first job interview, like, "Is it above sea level?" So to conclude my conclusion that I previously concluded in the common cement speech, I guess what I'm trying to say is life is like one big Mardi Gras.

But instead of showing your boobs, show people your brain, and if they like what they see, you'll have more beads than you know what to do with. And you'll be drunk most of the time. So the Katrina class of 2009, I say congratulations, and if you don't remember a thing I said today, remember this: You're gonna be okay.

Dum, doom. Just dance.