What's your major?

“So do you know what you want to major in when you go to college?”

I felt so superior asking this question, because I knew. As a freshman in high school, I felt sorry for my peers that didn't know. How lost they were!

“I'm going to be a nurse,” I would say triumphantly. “For pregnant women and babies.” It sounded so cool. I felt smart just saying it.

My big brother, who was a senior in high school at the time, was applying to go to a Christian university about half an hour away from our house. Sounded good to me! No way I would actually move far away from my mommy. And this school apparently had a good nursing program, which is where I got this fancy idea of mine. Where the pregnant women and babies came from, though, I have no idea. So anyway, four years later I went to this school and enrolled as a nursing major. On track for the rest of my life, right? ...Right??

My first semester I took Anatomy with the hardest Anatomy professor that ever taught at my school. Lucky me! It really was the hardest class I have ever taken, though, and I had no idea what a freaking cake walk high school was until I had this class. I have to study? What? I had no idea what studying was. There was SO MUCH EFFING READING, all about science-y body stuff that I had never before cared to remember. Science has never been a favorite subject of mine – sometimes stuff is just too complicated and doesn't interest you. And... surprise! That didn't change for me just because I went to college. Not that I ever loved studying, but some things you are actually interested in, so studying's not that bad. This class was interesting at times, for sure, but so detailed and in such terms that I didn't give a crap. I can't even remember one thing we talked about (actually I can remember one thing but only because it's about sex so it doesn't count) – that's how well I learned this stuff.

Oh and my roommate was also a nursing major, but unlike me she was/is a genius. She read everything and highlighted everything and REMEMBERED EVERYTHING. I'm not kidding, she got into the nursing program our second semester (which if I remember correctly only like 3 freshman did), and she graduated with all her ridiculously insane nursing classes and a FREAKING 4.0 GPA. Not that I ever compared myself to her. So anyway, I sucked and for the first time in my life was worried about passing a class and I was freaking out and called my mom one night all unsure about nursing, but for some reason I stuck with it another semester. Same thing – science classes I just didn't care about. And since I did not retain all this important information about the human body, I thought I might not be the best person to be in charge of anyone's health.

So my sophomore year I changed my major to English (don't tell all those poor little high school freshman I once secretly ridiculed). I don't really know why I chose English... because I like to read books? I took all general studies classes and one English class to “test the waters,” and I hated that class. It was British literature – all these lofty old poems I didn't understand. And I didn't like my professor either. He talked about all this random crap that had nothing to do with the class (not that I would have preferred him to talk more about the stupid poems). I pretty much just don't understand poetry. Sometimes there's a poem that makes sense, and I think I get it, so I can appreciate the beautiful language and actually enjoy it (Billy Collins, FTW!). But most of the time, I sympathize with all you other non-lovers of poetry that say: “BUT WHAT THE %#!@ DOES IT MEAN???”

So towards the end of that semester, I got a letter saying I was accepted into the nursing program. Um, what? Did they not realize that I didn't reapply? Did no one tell them that I changed my major? Well, I hated that English class, so I thought maybe I was supposed to do nursing. A sign from God, maybe? So I changed my major back to nursing. HA! Halfway through DAY ONE I knew it was a mistake. All this talk about clinicals and working in the hospital made me cringe deeply. I also hated going to the lab and practicing taking each other's blood pressures (which was so freaking hard, by the way – all those other bitches were making up their numbers, I know it). I realized, I don't want to do this ish for the rest of my life! So I went home that night and had a meltdown with my parents and decided I would change my major to liberal studies and become a teacher instead.

Here again, I have no idea why on earth I thought that would be a good idea. Maybe because it made me feel secure that it put me on track to a specific career. So I stuck with that for a year, and again realized, “I don't want to do this shiz!” Why I always put myself in these situations where I should have known better and realize way too late, God only knows. So I changed my major back to English, and this time I loved it. I decided to do it this time pretty much because these were classes I actually wanted to take. And because I like reading books. “P.E. in the Elementary Schools”? Hell no! I'm taking freaking “Marriage and Courtship in Victorian Literature” instead. BECAUSE IT SOUNDS AWESOME AND BECAUSE I CAN. And it was awesome. And I loved all my literature classes and I wish I had stuck with English earlier, because I would have loved to have taken more.

This major finally worked for me because I just got to read books and talk about them and that's pretty awesome. Unlike the nursing and teaching classes I had taken, I didn't hate these classes and think about how they would lead to a career that I would also hate. Unfortunately though, there isn't a job called “English” that it would lead me to, like the jobs those other majors came equipped with. So when my peers would ask, “What do you want to do when you graduate?” I had no answer. This time I was the one they felt sorry for (balls!).  Hopefully there actually is a job somewhere that has something to do with English that I will like one day... 'cause I graduated a year and a half ago and I think it's too late to change my major.