Opinion: What about everything I’m doing now?
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As I’m writing this article, I like to think I’m doing a lot with my life. I’m writing for the newspaper, obviously, but I’m also in at least three reading-intensive classes. I just finished my first real job (with taxes and everything!), and I’m fresh out of an environmental ethics class that changed my entire worldview. In my spare time, I research internships, play guitar, spend time with my friends, try to expand my cooking abilities and consider playing soccer.
In short, my life is already busy. So, why is it that older adults can only seem to ask me what I want to do with my life after graduation?

I suppose I can understand why the question is so prevalent. After all, one of the main goals of college (after learning) is to prepare students for some kind of career. Asking about someone’s plans for the future, especially if that person is a college student, isn’t particularly insulting on a surface level. It shows a basic level of interest in my life, and I really do appreciate that. The problem is that I would so much rather be defined by how I choose to use my time now than by what I might do in the future.

When all anyone asks me about is my future, it feels like nothing I’m currently doing matters. I certainly don’t think of this part of my life as a trial run, but that’s how it is perceived. It sends me right back to being 5 years old and always responding to “what do you want to be when you grow up?” Except for this time, “astronaut” and “princess” aren’t acceptable answers. The idea that this question is limiting to kids is gaining momentum, but I haven’t seen the same concept applied to young adults yet. I’m tired of being reduced to my corporate potential.

Moreover (and now we’re getting to the selfish reason I’m writing this), the question makes me feel completely unprepared for life. Throughout high school, I heard a million reassurances that no one in college knows what they’re going to do with their lives and everyone changes their major. Imagine my surprise when I showed up and every other person I met was sure they wanted to be a doctor. I would love to have a straightforward answer to the question of my future plans, but the truth is that my life is entirely up in the air right now.

When I was a senior in high school, I was already planning to major in English, but I was absolutely positive I didn’t want to be a teacher. I was dead set on becoming a journalist for the rest of my life after getting a small taste of power as a school paper editor. Now I’m rethinking my stance on teaching, but I also have an interest in editing and publishing. On top of this, I’ve also come to the uncomfortable realization that practically every job that interests me won’t pay me enough to live in a city. After four terms of college, I’m less sure of my future career than ever.

So what are my plans after graduation? I’ll probably keep playing music in my free time, torturing my neighbors if I still live in an apartment. I’ll finally learn how to make homemade ravioli with sage butter. I’ll spend arguably too much money on books and read them all on rainy days. I’ll go on long walks and explore new places and meet new people. I’ll find interesting volunteer opportunities and stumble into new hobbies and hopefully always keep learning. And sure, a job will factor into that plan if everything goes well. If I’m lucky, maybe it’ll even be related to my major and interests. It’ll be a part of my life, but it can’t be the only thing that matters.