Change Your Major This Summer, You Idiot

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If you go through college having only had one major, you either have always known what you want to do with your life or have an incredibly high pain tolerance. Or both, I guess, considering those two things aren’t mutually exclusive. For all I know, you’ve wanted to be a dentist since you were a little kid but also are capable of sticking your boner on a table, repeatedly thwacking it with a ball-peen hammer, and letting out nothing more than a few pity chuckles and a “IS THAT ALL YOU’VE GOT, ME???” Not sure. I don’t know you. But that doesn’t take away from the validity of that point.

When you chose your major as a rising college freshman, odds are you had no idea what you wanted. And I don’t just mean what you wanted to major in, I mean you had no idea what the fuck you wanted in your life. When you’re still at a point where $5 for a cup that will probably be filled a maximum of two times (unless you want to stand by the keg all night) seems like a smart financial decision, and where your motto is literally “try to make out with anything that has eight holes and makes eye contact with me for longer than three seconds,” who’s to say you know what you want to do five days a week for the next 45 years? The major to which you assign yourself at that freshman orientation that you were too busy staring at your peer advisor’s butt to pay attention during is not necessarily your final major; it’s just your first major.

As weird as it may seem, I started out in college on the Pre-Veterinary track. Yes, I’ll admit it — I wanted to be a veterinarian. Because what sounds more fun than fingering cats’ assholes and telling people, “Hey, your beloved family dog actually hates his life right now so I’m going to take him into this back room and kill him. That’ll be $189.95, and no, we don’t take Discover. What is it with all you dead-dog-walking dog owners and your Discover cards?”

Notice anything about me now? No, not that — please hold all insults about my “stupid fucking Amish face” until the end. I meant the fact that I’m not a veterinarian? The fact that, instead, I have a job that I love writing for a college comedy website? That rather than staring at sad animals all day, I’m in an office where I can scream curse words and it’s less weird than if I made polite conversation with a coworker about the weather? I started college a miserable Pre-Vet student and finished it a Journalism grad — and things worked out alright for your boy.

I’d hate to see anybody fall into a trap where they stick with their major just because it is their major, and not because they want it to be their major. College should be the best four(ish) years of your life, and it also shouldn’t fuck up the next 45 years of your life in the process.

Not happy with the path you’ve chosen? Change your major this summer, you idiot.

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