This story has a point: Part 1

As a senior in high school, I only applied to one college. There was no doubt in my mind - I knew exactly where I wanted to go. The harder part was figuring out what to study. At this point in my life it probably would have been a good idea to do a little soul searching to really figure out what I liked and what I was good at. Instead, I put a check mark in the box that sounded the least UNinteresting to me: Journalism and Mass Communication.

I don’t remember thinking about my major over the next few months. I was just excited to be accepted to college. I dreamt about where I would live and who I would meet and whether I might find my future husband. Those things were much more critical to me at the time.

Early in the summer before I started college I received a letter asking me to confirm my major or select a new one. For about ten seconds I tried to imagine my life as a journalist and it just didn’t look right. I reread the list. I noticed biology. Then I remembered back to visiting a forensic crime lab on a job shadow day. That had been interesting. Ok, I decided, I’ll change my major to biology. And just like that it was done.

Thus began the hell that came to be known as my undergraduate studies. I loved my overall college experience, but classes were brutal.

By the time I realized I had seriously erred in choosing my major, I was half way done with it. Almost none of my science classes would count toward a non-science major and I wasn’t about to commit any extra time to correcting my mistake. So I pushed through my courses as fast as I could, avoiding studying as much as possible.

I finally graduated with a degree I was loath to use. And I had no idea what to do next…