What do you want to do when you grow up? After hearing that question asked repeatedly throughout my pre-college years, it became quite annoying. Once I arrived here, though, I thought most people would stop asking that question and that I was done answering it forever.

Unfortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong. In fact, the question comes up 10 times more often than it did before. The tricky part is the question has taken on a new identity. No longer is it "What do you want to do when you grow up?" Instead, the question has disguised itself as "What are you majoring in?"

I realized something the other day when I was studying for my comparative politics test. I realized that I really don't care about Russia's political system or any political system, for that matter. With that said, I don't want to be a political science major anymore.

So what am I going to do now? What do I want to be when I grow up (if that ever happens, and according to my ex-girlfriend, it never will)? What am I going to major in? The answer to all three questions is simply, "I don't know."

Coming from a middle-class neighborhood with two educated parents pretty much meant that going to college after high school was a given. For myself and many of you, it wasn't a matter of "if" we were going to college like it was when our parents were growing up, but rather "where" are you going?

So now I am here, I just don't know why. Some people at this school know what they want to do with the rest of their lives. If they want to teach elementary school, then they major in elementary education. If someone wants to be a doctor, they major in premedicine. These people have direction. I, on the other hand, feel like I have about as much direction as somebody stranded in the middle of the Sahara Desert with no map or service on his cell.

Coming out of high school, my list of what I wanted to pursue as a future profession consisted of professional basketball player, college basketball coach and president of the United States — in that order. Since that overnight eight-inch growth spurt has yet to happen, my career as a pro is looking pretty bleak. And because basketball coaches are usually ex-players, you won't see me filling any coaching vacancies anytime soon. Also, if I can't even make it through two semesters as a political science major, chances are I won't be moving into the White House during this lifetime either.

My biggest fear in life is waking up everyday and hating what I do, dreading work the next morning every night when I go to sleep. It scares the crap out of me and with my freshman year coming to an end, it means the countdown to the "real world" is now at only three years.

Although I don't know what I want to do, I do know what I don't want to do. I don't want to wear a suit every day to work. I cringe once a month when the time comes to put on a tie (formals and such); I think I would go insane if I had to do that every day. Inspired by my favorite movie, Office Space, I know I don't want to be stuck working in a cubicle from 9 to 5, having everyone tell me about my damn TPS reports (see the movie).

My biggest fear is doing the same thing every single day over and over again for the rest of my life. I like change; repetitiveness bores me. So when I leave this land they call Happy Valley and enter the "real world," I have to make sure that whatever my occupation may be, it is one that will be more than just my job, but something I have a passion for.

In Office Space the main character, Peter Gibbons, tries to figure out what he wants to do with his life. So he begins to reflect back on an exercise his high school guidance counselor did with him that would help him decide what he should do when he grew up. The counselor would ask the question, "If you had a million dollars, what would you do?" Then, if you said you wanted to fix up old cars, that meant you should be an auto mechanic and so on and so on — or so the movie goes.

While I was growing up, my parents conveyed the same message to me as this often repeated quote does. They stressed the importance of happiness in a profession rather than the money it brings (although neither of them would complain if I start pulling in six figures one day).

So as I scan E-lion looking for a major that will propel me towards a career full of wonder and happiness, I can't help but feel like Alice did in Alice in Wonderland:

" 'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'

'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

'I don't much care where —-,' said Alice.

'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.

'So long as I get SOMEWHERE,' Alice added.

'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat, 'if you only walk long enough.' "

Considering the amount of money my parents are paying in tuition each year, hopefully the next three years will be a long enough walk that I will figure out "where" I want to go with my life.