Now that I am a sophmore I can no longer get away with the naive shenanigans I used to pull back when I was a tender freshman. No, now it's time to figure out what I want my major to be and how I want to spend the rest of my life. Everyone else seems to have this plan they are following, like they sat down and wrote down each move they'll make for the next thirty years. Sometimes I think maybe I'll just never amount to anything, that I'll dabble in several fields and never truly find something that makes me happy. Then again, maybe I have not found that which makes me happy because I am not looking in the right place.

I've entertained the idea of dropping out of school to run away to New York and direct movies. But no, I could never be a starving artist. I could never wander the streets and wonder where my next meal would come from or how I would obtain this month's rent. I believe in taking chances but that seems like a lot to risk, and I've worked hard to get where I am now; too hard to throw it all away. I don't know what I am complaining about. I'm happy here, I'm doing well, life is good and the future is anything but bleak. I think I am just missing this certain spark I know I should feel. Whatever I do, I want it to affect people positively. I don't just want to be enclosed in a cubicle and peck away at some reports no one really cares about. I want to change the way people think, I want to help people. And financial stability wouldn't hurt either.

I really like teaching people but I don't know if I'm cut out to be a teacher. It just seems so dead end and I don't know why. I like writing too, but no one wants to hear my stupid opinions or read about some character I made up while sitting in philosophy. Eh, I guess I don't really know what I want. I'm in this sort of grayish purgatory between being completely clueless and attaining inner peace. Maybe I'll figure it out next semester.