I have always had really low expectations for my future, but usually only subconsciously. My current status as a second semester senior has been getting to me, and my cynicism about where I will end up next fall is slowly eating away at me. I am less than confident that I will be employed after I graduate, which hopefully is not true and is just me freaking out about the unknown. This lack of high expectations for myself, I have discovered, started at a very young age.
In the first grade, we were required to keep journals and every day we would have a writing prompt for a new journal entry. One day we had to think about a classic question: "What do you want to be when you grow up?" Most kids have great dreams; future doctors, astronauts, inventors, and entertainers filled my classroom. I, on the other hand, had a completely different plan. Before I reveal the dream job my 6 year old self longed for, I want to point out that now, at 21, I have no idea what I want to do in the least, and I have felt like that for years. My goal to become a cocktail waitress has faded. Yes, when I was in the first grade, my ultimate goal was to bring drinks to people. Ambitious. I didn't even want to be a full blown waitress at a nice, upscale restaurant. Nope. Cocktails would be my specialty. This journal entry was even accompanied by a drawing of Becca the future cocktail waitress with a tray with a drink on it. The drawing is poor, so a career as an artist was already off of the table at a young age.
Looking back, I always knew I didn't want to be a doctor (any blood or injury that isn't my own makes me feel queasy) or an astronaut (I have an intense fear of outer space). There was a while when I had a vague dream of being a vet, but again, medical stuff soon became too much even to watch on TV, let alone deal with on my own. When it was time to apply to college, I applied to ten schools, all in their liberal arts programs as undecided. All but Cornell. Here, I decided that I would apply to the prestigious Hotel School, which is number one in the world for hospitality. Lo and behold, I got in. After a week or two at the Hotel School, I realized how much I was in the wrong program. Managerial communications and organizational behavior were not subjects I wanted to spend time learning, at least not in college, where I wanted to explore everything. I switched into the College of Arts and Sciences after one semester, and it wasn't until the end of sophomore year that I declared History as my major.
I love history and all the classes I have taken, so I don't regret pursuing a liberal arts education. It does make it tough, however, when specialized skills make finding a job that much easier. All my engineering and business oriented friends already have jobs, which is annoying, but I am trying to keep hope alive, despite my lack of any clue of what jobs I want to look for. I am down to try almost anything, and, if any potential employers are reading this, my skills from being a history major make me able to adapt to new situations and I always want to learn new things. I am very "well-rounded," as they say.
My one goal that I have defined thus far is to move to New York City. The main reason for this is that I would have a great support system there. With family near by and almost everyone I know moving there after graduation, I have designed a couch rotation for myself. Every week I will move to a new friend's couch, mooch off of them, then move to the next friend's place. The number of people I know who will be in NYC is great because when my rotation starts over, months will have gone by, so my hosts won't feel like I am always sleeping on their couch specifically. This plan is also great because many of my Wall Street friends, who will have ridiculously long weeks, will barely be home themselves, so they won't even know I am there. One friend has also promised to subsidize my life, paying for my shelter and food, and, sometimes, if he's feeling generous, he might even buy me something nice.
If all else fails, you can find me in Costa Rica working on an organic farm.
