I am, by nature, an indecisive person. It’s sort of a trial to be around me really, what with my crippling inability to pick a movie, restaurant, or parking spot. Shoe-shopping becomes a two-hour internal struggle between buying all five pairs or leaving the store empty-handed, seeing as narrowing down my selection is hardly a viable option. Deciding which classes to take is a grueling month-long process (my cart is an abomination), and choosing seats in a movie theater gives me anxiety.
HA, and you all thought I was well-adjusted.
But despite the impact indecisiveness has on my daily life, it never had any effect on my commitment to Hopkins. Hopkins is something I was sure about. I had a “Class of 2017” Facebook status up within minutes of opening my acceptance email (the technological equivalent of signing a contract in your own blood) and was proudly wearing a JHU sweatshirt before I’d even heard back from other schools. My commitment-phobe days were over. I knew that Hopkins and I were destined to live happily ever after.
In another completely out-of-character turn of events, I applied this certainty to my intended majors. I was 110% sure that I’d be double-majoring in Political Science and Writing Seminars (thanks, distribution system!), with a minor in Italian for good cultural measure. It was, as I told every inquisitive relative who would listen, an ideal combination. And, let me tell you, it’s a lot easier to field probing questions about medical school (welp) when you have the promise of law school to back you up, care of that shiny Political Science degree. With my background in theatre and public-speaking, lawyer-dom just seemed like my life’s most logical progression. It was a more practical application of my creative skills, an application that might actually lend itself to some financial stability.
So though I proudly advertised my Writing Seminars plans with passion befitting a girl who was about to spend four years studying her favorite thing in the world, I turned Political Science into my security blanket. Law school just sounded so strong, so professional, so smart. The thought of eight more years of schooling was also extremely comforting. Just like that, I was committed to the dream. I carefully crafted my first semester schedule with equal time devoted to Poli Sci, Writing Sems, and Italian. All was going according to plan.
That is, until I actually started classes. My only Political Science course was a simple introduction to the United States political system, and it was taught by an incredible professor (you know you’re in the right place when your professor’s name matches the one on your textbook). The material was straightforward, and every lecture was more interesting than the next. I could tell that everyone in the auditorium full of Poli Sci majors was totally engaged. Except for me.
It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy the subject matter, because it really was an exceptional class. Sure, I preferred all my other courses, but that isn’t what made it my political science deal-breaker. It was the time I spent in section that allowed me to finally see the light: I am not, under any circumstances, cut out for a profession in politics or law. As my fellow classmates readily engaged in the countless impassioned debates encouraged by our TA, I felt myself hiding in the back of a classroom for the first time in my life. I know I’ve never been innately aggressive or combative, but I didn’t realize how very much I hate conflict until I was expected to engage on a weekly basis. My peers reveled in it; they became steadier and more articulate when things got heated. I could tell that some of them truly loved it – arguing for the sake of arguing. But, to me, it was the most draining part of the week. So I’m sure you can all see where this is going.
Moral of the story: I think it’s about time to officially cast off my pre-law security blanket. To finally say goodbye to Political Science. After devoting my spring semester purely to Writing Seminars, it became blatantly obvious where my true passion lies. I don’t want to argue, or lobby, or run for Congress, just like I don’t want to build rockets, or mix chemicals in test-tubes, or do open-heart surgery. Those are dreams for other people. I really just want to write. And while that statement turns my future into one big ball of the unknown, it also frees me. So I’m fully committing myself to Writing Seminars. I think we’re going to be very happy together.