Indecision can be passive. Passive like when you’re in a car on a long drive, not fully cognizant of when you make a small correction to the wheel or how hard you push the gas pedal. You’re more focused on the thoughts of last Friday night or the ‘HeyTell’ messages you’ve received, beckoning you to listen (back when it was legal to use your phone and drive of course…).
Communication studies was like my car ride. I had a direction and a destination, but I didn’t know what I was going to do when I got there. I started following a path because it looked like a nice drive; HWY 1 going through Big Sur sucks you in with gorgeous ocean views on one side and placid tree-covered mountains on the other. Once you’re 74 miles in, though, the novelty wears off and you realize that something is missing: purpose. I was having a blast in school. My fraternity life was going great, women seemed to be coming in flocks, and I was able to get out and surf almost everyday. I even managed to get a 4.0, but I had no clue what purpose communication studies was serving and how my degree would be at all useful.
Why did I choose communication studies? Maybe because I thought I was suited for it, maybe because it was easy, maybe because I thought I would be able to fully grasp human interaction and become a God of speech among mere men (and women… and Claire). Whatever the reason, I seemed to have lost track of where I was going and what I was doing. I had only 1 more communication studies class to take before I was able to earn my degree when a ridiculous idea popped into my head: it was time to switch majors.
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