Sometimes in college I feel like I’m playing dress-up. Like I’m a little kid playing in my mom’s grown-up clothes and everything is going great until I realize my lipstick is smeared and my cheap glitter nail polish is smooshed.
I think this carries on to other areas too. For example, things are going great, I’m going to class, I’m sorta doing my homework, I’m eating meals, I’m an adult! … Except I procrastinated a 100 word reflection until 2:00 am, my meals are either PB&J, mac and cheese, or quesadillas, and I gave myself a concussion on Monday because I set my backpack on the ground while taking a mirror selfie and hit my head on a metal bar when bending down to grab it.
BUT who’s keeping track of that because you gotta take wins where you can get them.
I feel like college is full of this mentality. Things are difficult – classes are hard, adult relationships are weird, still figuring out how to park my car in the lines without having to try again at least once. Regardless, things are pretty amazing – I’m friends with people who are so cool I’m not even sure why they talk to me, I’m going on a study abroad this summer, and I just aced a bio lab exam. However, there are a few things that keep pulling me back to earth. These two things, or rather questions, are:
1. Where are you living next year?
Hm. Good question.
2. What’s your major?
HM. Another GOOD QUESTION.
I have 3 options for living next year: dorm, apartment, or homeless.
One of which I absolutely cannot do (dorm), another of which I would rather not do (homeless…is it illegal to live in the library?), so I guess apartment it is. Apartments make me nervous. Something I blame for this nervousness is junior year of high school English when I was forced to read In Cold Blood, a true story about a Kansas family being brutally murdered in their own home. Really not looking to be Psycho-ed, In Cold Blood-ed, Tell Tale Heart-ed, or any short of classical murder-ed. Though I guess I’ll get over this because my dream of decorating an HGTV-worthy apartment is stronger.
Next, the dreaded question: “What’s your major?”
I feel like I am a pretty driven person, I typically have a lot of follow-through, but in the case of majors, I have commitment issues comparable to those of Donald Trump.
It’s not that I’m not interested in anything. I love learning and there’s a lot of things that I find captivating and exciting. There’s just this one problem: my passion. When I was 16, someone told me “Ignoring your passion is slow suicide. Mold your career around your lifestyle, not your lifestyle around your career.”
This is great and all, but it doesn’t say what to do when you don’t know what the hell your passion is. Finding your life’s work is a lot of pressure.
I also don’t want to rush myself in finding it. I’m fine with exploring majors. What’s off-putting is it seems like others aren’t. So many times I have the same conversation:
“What major are you?”
“Oh, I’m undecided.”
“Oh…well that’s okay!”* *said in the same tone one might say “sure Pepsi is fine” when the restaurant doesn’t have Coca-Cola*
Usually, I say something like “I’m undecided but looking at *some major*” to bi-pass condolences.
After all, I’m not undecided because I don’t want to do anything. I want to do too many things… I want to be in the peace corps, I want to be a zoologist, a journalist, a teacher, a pilot, an artist, an agriculturalist and a public defender. College is weird because I have to go for just one or even something completely different. How do I choose?
The longer I do school the more I realize there isn’t a path to take or a road that’s obviously correct. Right now, I’m going with “trust your journey” as my leading motto. If anyone has the secret to figuring it all out, pls hmu. Otherwise, I’m going to keep exploring and trusting that I probably won’t be homeless next year.