It seems like an innocent enough question: "So, what are you majoring in?"

Yet for a person that has spent the first quarter of their life shying away from human interaction and ensuing judgment of any kind, it's quite the contrary. The fact that my area of study is English seems to add extra fuel to the fire. When answering the question above, I have become accustomed to the raised eyebrows, condescending grins, and my own anxiety.

Fortunately, I was eventually able to quell my nerves about the topic. All it took was one icebreaker during a mandatory orientation.

Before I get into that, I want to make it clear that orientation was not an event I was excitedly awaiting. If it were up to me, I would be spending the duration of orientation with Netflix and a copious amount of snacks. That being said, my account of the matter might be a little biased considering I never wanted to be there in the first place.

Anyway, on to the promised anecdote. My peers and I were roped into one of those get-to-know-you gimmicks; the ones where all participants are supposed to select a random person to talk to. After looking around with mild reluctance, I ended up introducing myself to a guy a few feet away. We then proceeded to have a deep discussion about the meaning of life (i.e. attempted witty sarcasm). Within a second, he asked the question that this article revolves around.

I responded with "English." To be honest, it was surprising that I even told the truth. I am not a liar by nature, but I had been proclaiming my major to be Political Science since the previous year. My reasoning behind this false major was that it ended in the word "science" and sounded relatively productive. The effort I took to conceal my answer to this simple inquiry may seem ridiculous, but it at least helped me avoid the reactions I loathed so much.

The guy I was talking to gave me a faux-interested nod and carefully neutral facial expression.

He then replied with something along the lines of, "English is cool. I mean, it's one of those totally forgotten arts like philosophy." Then, he proceeded to brief me on the academic success plan he had been constructing since middle school.

For the rest of the day, his words reverberated through my mind. I felt perplexed at this encounter, and found myself wondering why it bothered me so much. That guy probably hadn't answered the way he did with the intent of hurting my poor little feelings. More realistically, he had forgotten our chat and was not obsessing over it like his weird icebreaker partner.

It was with that thought that my epiphany came. Actually, it wasn't an epiphany so much as an idea that had always been there but hadn't surfaced until now.

It didn't matter what people thought of my major.

As simple a conclusion as this is, I think it takes some reinforcement every once in a while. There is nothing wrong in reminding yourself that no mathematical test determines the worthiness of one specific major. Furthermore, if you work with both diligence and creativity in your chosen career, your college major doesn't quite matter.

If there is one point to drive home, it is that you are in control of your own path. The significance of someone else's opinion is subordinate to the unique ambitions you harbor. When you are finally able to think this way, neither rigidly nor carelessly, the closest thing to peace a harried college student can experience will follow.