This is a manifesto

I'm the type of guy who always has something to say. Sometimes it's a joke and sometimes it's on a serious topic. But one thing that I've always been kind of hesitant to talk about were my plans for the future. I'm sure that everyone who reads this, especially seniors, has had "The Conversation," which usually starts with "So what's your major?" and ends with "So what do you want to do after college?" My mom calls it “checking up on her investment”. To me, it was my little version of hell.

Whenever I talked about my college career, I would always be a little embarrassed because I was originally a premed student. In fact, I had very specific plans for what I wanted to do and how I was going to get there. I was going to be a pediatric anesthesiologist, which I thought was the perfect career for me. I even knew what hospital I wanted to work for. It was a great plan that I spent so much time thinking about, I was convinced it was my destiny. However, I soon realized that if you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans.

Come sophomore year, I went from premed student to bewildered student. My mom thought I'd end up penniless and on the streets. To her, success was only in the form of doctor, lawyer or engineer. And I had no idea what I even wanted to do. Truthfully, I can understand her consternation and worry. I had sold my parents on a dream I could no longer happily fulfill. Not to get it twisted, I've always been happy with my decision. I learned that I didn’t enjoy the premed track and I hated the future of being confined to a set of uninteresting courses.

It is beyond insane to expect that every single 18 year old college student would know exactly what they want to do in the future and how to get there. It took me a long time to get used to that idea. I had had so many future plans that without that safety net, I was afraid. There are some kids who know the answer to these questions. However, I also know that not being able to answer them does not equate to failure. Switching to a major that I cared about was a hard and necessary transition. It was one of the first times where I made a choice for me and not in fear of some outside threat. Think of it as the sacrificial burning of the bra of societal expectations. I was liberated!

…Or so I thought.

Originally, I felt that my free and liberated lifestyle would be a completely positive experience. And for me, it was pretty positive. Actually, it was so much more. I wasn't forced into some degree track. I got to pick courses that interested me and made me want to learn. I learned that I wanted to major in history and nerdily enough I even had a lists of potential thesis research topics. It wasn't until I heard something shocking from one of my friends. After a retelling of the harrowing adventure of switching from premed, a story rife with action and danger, his response was “Wow, I never knew you had goals before.”

I can honestly say that I blacked out after hearing what was most likely the shadiest comment in history of worldwide shade. Literally, the light vanished from my eyes and I can attest to the probability of the scientific phenomenon, where all trees lost their shadows in a moment soon to be called The Reaping. After rebuilding myself from the actual shadows, I realized I was pissed.

I was mad at how this weird system of comparing still affects me. My personal success shouldn’t be a comparison to someone else. As an old boss told me, “The barometer of success is happiness.” It’s words that I’ve seriously come to take to heart. It’s forced a re-liberation of liberated Fed. However, it wasn’t liberation from societal expectations but liberation from a comparative learning cycle. The happiness that I felt coming up with different research topics, should have been the only verification for my success.