Tigers and bedding and papers, oh my!

In early summer, though, the decisions came back. I needed to choose a comforter, towels, new clothes and, all of a sudden, courses. Oh, it wasn't official yet, but I needed a general idea. I put some thought into it for the basic survey in July and then let it go for a while.

Once August came, however, I realized that I couldn't avoid making decisions any more. I perused every writing seminar, freshman seminar and class that looked like it might be interesting. After all the research, I had a lot of notes but was only sure of one thing: I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do. So I made lists, lots of lists, trying to piece together a schedule that made sense. Unfortunately, almost every class I wanted to take met at the exact same time. And whenever I thought I'd come up with something, I began to worry that I was making a mistake: Should I try to spread things out for distribution requirements or make sure I got a good start on my intended major? And, speaking of majors, why did I have to like English so much? What was I ever going to do with that?

By the time I got here, I was already bogged down with decisions. But I figured out a class schedule that I liked and realized that I could shop an extra class to determine the best fit. I worried about elongating the decision-making process, but experiencing as much as possible, I've recognized, is the point of the beginning of college. I found comfort in an idea that was repeated by a few of the speakers giving opening remarks: that I'm not here to prepare for a particular career. I'm here to learn. The hard part seemed to be over.

I was wrong. As soon as classes were underway - on just the second day, in fact - I was faced with yet another overwhelming variety of choices: the activities fair. Four rows of tables with people on both sides, competing for my attention. I tried to pick carefully, but I had no idea what I wanted; or, more precisely, I had too many ideas of what I wanted. I passed each table a few times and collected an immense stack of handouts. I even took a break and then returned to the fair because the throng of freshmen and activities representatives was so overwhelming. By the time it was over, I was on far more mailing lists than I could ever respond to: ballroom dancing, Princeton University Players, a handful of service activities and a few clubs I still didn't quite understand. And publications? I signed up for almost all of them. I spent the next few days going to all of the open houses, making decisions and second-guessing them.

Now my list is shorter, but I'm still not sure exactly what I want to do. And every few days, there's a new decision for me to make: what to write my paper on, what to do Saturday night, what to eat in the dining hall. I start to worry that I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I've realized, though, that Princeton is the best place to figure that out. I don't know what I'll be in the future, but right now I'm a student: still learning where I'm going but happy to be here. And right now, that's enough.