Ellington

Much of my life to this point has been spent in the limitless pursuit of “all the answers.” Pretty silly, when the evidence so far shows that when I found what I thought to be the answers, I had been asking the wrong questions. Or asking the right question the wrong way.

Specifically, I’m talking about college and seeking answers to questions I may not have been informed — OK, or experienced — enough about to ask at the time. You see, right out of hearth and home and high school, while it may have been some sort of adolescent imperative to question every question and challenge every answer, I, too, frequently searched for answers to my own questions that were based on “think” rather than “know.” Rigorous education is a huge commitment of money — often someone else’s — and time, and planning for it should not be taken lightly. Advisers may be penciling me in, but that’s what they’re paid to do, and they are quite adept at assisting with sample curriculums and course descriptions. This is one of those instances where — knowing what I now know — I woulda, shoulda, coulda asked very important, and different, questions.

What advisers can’t tell you is what you like to do or what you’re interested in — that’s all you: question and answer. You can get advice, and let’s be real — your parents, friends, and other important people in your life are probably more than willing to “help.”

I can’t count the number of times I have visited home and discussed the “major” decision. Dad wants me to become an engineer. Mom wants me to pursue art. Grandpa wants me to explore medical research.

Great.

But what do I want? And who am I willing to let down? Am I even asking the right questions here?

As a freshman — a confused dingus that has only been here for two quarters — I have already considered eight majors (I’m also probably forgetting a few). I based picking my first classes off what sounded good, which had to pertain to my vague idea for a major, which was heavily based on recommendations — slash what will make me rich — and all based on an answer to my own question of what will make me happy. Turns out, the magnitude of the question blinded me and led me to an equation as an answer that is looking more and more failed: “Time is money,” I deduced. “If I spend time and money on something that will maybe make me money, I will make more money. Time well-spent is good. I will be happy.”

Unfortunately, I have grown miserable and annoyed by doing what I thought last year would lead to my happiness. Too many of us are busy worrying about which “fool-proof plan” will work the best. Doing something you don’t like just doesn’t work.

I can’t emphasize enough the importance of self-awareness. Knowing something about yourself can help fine-tune the huge questions and get them into more bite-sized pieces. When you “know” what you’re into and can express it to your advisers, you can ask yourself where the 8-by-10 glossy curricula and your interests, talents, and even happiness — measured in “today” terms — intersect.

If I do change my major again and aim for something completely different, some of my family members might cry — specifically those living their lives vicariously through me. They will eventually get over it. And hopefully, I will get on with it, too.

There is no way to know for sure what will make me happy at 40 or 50. I’m still working on finding the answer to what will make me happy now at 19. But, I think I’ve learned a little through this bit of emotional and educational turbulence: I’m the one who has to show up every day, study, and do what needs to be done. I need to pay attention to my own experiences and reactions in order to better ask the questions I will ask of my formal and informal advisers. Maybe this new context will help me deal with the answers.

But for now, back to the drawing board. I have some big questions to ask.

Reach opinion writer Atoosa Moinzadeh at opinion@dailyuw.com.