College takes on infinite meanings. There is no one definition that can sum it up. It is a time full of cheap liquor, regretful Sunday morning hangovers, and questionable life decisions. However, separate from that, it is a time when we discover our passion. It is where we figure out what the hell we want to do with our lives. We are practically forced to imagine our futures. And no worries, that’s not stressful or anything.

As my freshman year came to a close, I entered into a state of complete panic. I still had not declared a major when most of my friends had. I had not a single clue as to what direction I wanted to take.

How was I supposed to pick a major? This was a life-altering decision. It was not as simple as making a pro/con list, as much as I wished it were. So I started to think about the subjects I always hated throughout my years in school.

My past grades clearly reflected that I would never be a mathematician or cure cancer, so I ruled out anything math and science related. Similarly, psychology had so many terms; my brain was ready to explode after class. My friends knew to stay away on days I had psych. 

I always managed to get by in Spanish class, but never mastered a good Spanish accent. I was a typical White girl who had no clue what she was really saying.

I got a B in gym class junior year of high school, so professional athlete was definitely out of the question. Damn you, Mrs. Poppy, I tried.

So what was left? What did I like? I knew that I was really into pop culture, but what career could that possibly lead to? I noticed that I had also picked up a fondness for writing. It came easily for me; I never really stressed when I had a big paper due. I preferred that to a test any day.

What else did I like? Magazines, fashion, television, Hollywood; it soon became clear what my major should be. Journalism. Now, I am not looking to become the next anchor of the nightly news. Please, I mumble like it’s my job. Broadcast is not my thing. I want to write. I want to blog. I want to be the next Carrie Bradshaw.

However, like most career paths, journalism comes with its drawbacks. The pressure to succeed is stifling: demanding classes, strict deadlines, summer internships (don’t even get me started) -- how is anybody supposed to do it? It seems impossible. But if Ugly Betty can succeed in this field, I pray that I can, too.

For example, this semester I am enrolled in J303, Online Journalism. The description read great. I was so excited to be in this class, it seemed to be pointing me in the right direction. While this was partially accurate, this class took me by considerable surprise. Never have I been pushed so far out of my comfort zone. I have assignments requiring me to approach strangers in Bloomington and, somehow, not feel too unbearably awkward about doing it. However, this class will prove beneficial in the long run, just like the timely deadlines that are assigned. It is setting me up for a real-world environment that, hopefully, I get to be part.

The competitive nature of the field is already apparent from my failed attempts at a summer internship, thus far. I have edited, added, deleted, and changed my resume so many times. How many ways can I write that I was a camp counselor?

All this being said, I have no regret declaring journalism my major. You have to do something that will make you happy. It is not going to be easy, but what is nowadays? Katie Couric did not become successful overnight.