Seniors! Heed my words and relate with me over our communal moral quandaries. In just more than two months, we will be graduating from this institution, which we have come to love. We'll walk on the stage en masse like lemmings, receive our diploma and, contrary to what Miami has told us in the past, we'll become just a number. We'll become just another demographic of 20-something kids who are trying to build a life for themselves. Unfortunately for me, there are no 'Wanted' signs reading: "Recent graduate, basic knowledge in Middle Eastern affairs and mid-level fluency in Arabic language."
I am going to scream if I hear one more time someone ask me, "What do you want to do after you graduate?" If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me that godforsaken question, I would give Congress a break and bail out the country on my own. To tell you few readers the truth, I am genuinely content with the fact that I don't know what I want to do with my life. Sure, I have a general idea in a roundabout way of saying that I kind of want to end up doing things sometimes maybe with some people somewhere-but that's neither here nor there. Hell, I'm only 21 and I have yet to experience the world and all of its inner workings. I have no qualms with the actuality that I have no path laid before me with a marker stating, "Success and Happiness-This Way!"
In economics, the cost-benefit analysis is a system of determining the most beneficial option available. As college students, we all assess and witness our own examples of these ever-present conundrums whether they are juvenile or life-changing: paper or plastic; Jack or Jim; blonde or brunette; accountancy or Asian Studies; military or Peace Corps. Each choice we make carries with it its own angels and its own demons ready to grace or haunt us at some point later in our life. Our responsibility to ourselves doesn't stop when we make the choice, but extends to our ability to explain our choices. Socrates said, "an unexamined life is not worth living." It is in careful examination of our choices that we reconcile the consequences of our decisions with our dreams and goals. Without this reconciliation we are like jellyfish, drifting with the ocean tide, powerless to prevent getting washed up on shore. It is our choice to take a year off exploring the jungles of the Congo instead of studying labor law at Ohio State. It is our choice to brace ourselves for heartbreak instead of incessantly asking, "What if?" It is our choice-whatever the cost and whatever the benefit.
Nothing is written-especially not our future. However, we find ourselves at a crossroads in our lives where the decisions we make ripple in the ocean of life and resonate to the surrounding shores of our family and friends. We must confront our unwritten and uncertain future and face the decisions that will soon craft our character and affect those around us. Much like in naval warfare, confronting problems and uncertainty is fought best head-on rather than attempting to evade or outrun them. These decisions we make in these next few months may be the hardest we ever make but they will be ones we will always remember. I'm ready to write my own tragedies. I'm ready to write my own triumphs. I thank God everyday that I am granted the privilege to make choices that dictate the future course of my life. The reality we must accept is that out of the tree of life, we eventually will whittle both successes and failures. We must ready ourselves to do both.
So, what do I want to do with my life? Well, I, probably along with the majority of the student body, can tell you that I don't want to be a 22-year-old, miserable, living-for-the-clock-to-hit-5 p.m., longing-for-a-place-I'll-never-call-home-again desk jockey. If I end up that way, someone slap me. But to all you business majors who, to no avail, unsuccessfully interviewed with countless companies; to all you journalism majors who think you'll be forever poor; and to all you interdisciplinary studies majors who have to explain your major to everyone, you are not alone in your future of uncertainty. In fact, that uncertainty, that room for innovation of choice and potential is what makes life truly beautiful. In these last few cherished and near-holy months, take some practice jumps, stretch your arms and legs, and prepare to dive into the infinite abyss that is the one place we've all waited for and we've all dreaded reaching: the real world.
