At my internship this summer, one of my editors told me that when she graduated from college in the 1970s, people never asked her what she wanted to do with her life.
Part of that was the hippie culture, she said, and part was an economy that made it difficult to find a job.
She told me she sees society shifting back to that philosophy, and maybe it isn't such a bad thing.
I've come to believe the moral of her story: Uncertainty is a gift.
People ask me what my plan is for after I graduate, and I don't have a definitive answer.
Some uncertainty comes from getting my degree in journalism, which is not a stable field at the moment. But I'm receiving my degree in something I love, and I have no regrets.
Uncertainty is weird for me, as someone who loves to plan for the distant future. When I was considering changing my major freshman year from pre-pharmacy, I found it hard to work for my science classes when I didn't know if they would count toward anything in the long run.
Over the past year, watching my classmates graduate without jobs or long-term plans, it hit me that life is too unpredictable right now for life plans to be realistic.
Want to go to graduate school? It's harder than ever to get into a good one, thanks to application surges. Want to start your career? Unless you're some kind of health science major or a nurse, good luck. Want to move back in with your parents? OK, you might have some chance with that. Talk to your dad.
Seriously, though, I've learned to appreciate being in the moment because I have no idea what I'm doing tomorrow.
I'm single, I'm young and I can go anywhere. I'm applying for jobs in places I've never been: New Hampshire, Arizona, Colorado.
I don't have to know everything about myself or where I want my life to go just because I'm leaving college. Freshman Hilary, the one who couldn't study biology without seeing a long-term point to it, would be appalled by this.
When I started college, I remember this looming dread when I wasn't absolutely positive about my major. Now, it's the entire direction of my life that I'm unsure about, and somehow, I'm OK with it.
Success has been redefined, too. As long as you're paying your bills and (hopefully) have health insurance, you're a success.
Even if you're sleeping on friends' couches, it's more acceptable than it was a few years ago.
As college students going out into the world now, when the economy is unstable and people are generally scared, we have a great opportunity. No one can really ask us, "And what do you want to do with your degree?" because that's every college degree now. No one can tell us to be practical because who really knows what's practical anymore? No one can tell us that we need to start our careers right away or think for the future.
I don't want to move back in with my parents or be a perpetual teenager with no responsibility.
But I've done a 180 from the girl who had an unshakable life plan.
I'm telling myself that I can learn more from figuring things out as I go along, from having odd jobs and taking risks, than from trying to jump head-first into stable adult life at age 22.
That could just be the fear and denial talking, but it's a lot more fun than worrying about things I can't control.
Hilary Lehman is a journalism senior. Her column appears on Wednesdays.
