The question always seems to be looming over me. I keep it locked away in the back of my mind, and the adults in my life keep it conveniently on the tip of their tongues.
I’ve made it halfway through a conversation with my aunt about the social aspects of college, and the exchange is starting to slow down when I throw in, “Well there’s not much to do in Olean, but I love Bonaventure nonetheless.”
We’ve touched on the great friendships and surplus of alcohol. In a perfect world, the conversation would just end there. Not this time. Her mouth starts to open, and I brace myself for the unavoidable. The dreaded question is diving headfirst out of her mouth straight towards me.
“What do you want to do after college?”
There it is.
Some days I think I know, and some days I think I may as well be the same person I was on the first day of freshman year, because that girl at least thought she had an idea.
I came into college thinking I wanted to be a journalist, possibly even one who works for a newspaper. It’s my third semester as a writer for the school newspaper and my second as an editor, and guess what? I never want to work for a real newspaper in my life. I love the experience I’ve gotten from it; it’s made me a better writer and given me a strong editing eye. I know it’s not for me, and that’s okay. But now what? What does a journalism major who doesn’t actually want to be a journalist do?
There are two things I do every morning: drink a cup of coffee and watch the Cosmopolitan Snapchat story. “I could work for Cosmo,” I casually say to myself as I lounge in my sweatpants. Seconds later, I’m immersed in a daydream where I live a luxurious life in New York City as editor-in-chief of the prominent publication. This sounds ideal, but it’s unrealistic—especially coming right out of college. Back to square one.
The reality is I love to write. I tell everyone I know I’m going to write a novel one day. And I really believe I could. But that’s a project I won’t be able to begin without already having a steady income from a real job.
I have no clue what I’ll do when I graduate college. Every day I develop a new life plan so intricate it includes the type of dog I’ll own and the color purse I’ll carry on a Thursday in May. While the unknown stresses me out beyond belief, I get a bit of a thrill out of it. I don’t know what I want to do right now, but I’m having a blast exploring all the possibilities.
What fun is having everything figured out, anyway?