If life’s a journey, then I’m lost. I have no idea where I am, and, even worse, I have no idea where I want to go.

Sometimes when I look into my own mind, all I see is an abyss. If I close my eyes and listen, I hear the buzz of bewilderment.

There is no obvious road from here. There is no road more travelled, no road less travelled — no damn roads at all. There ain’t no damn road that’s going to tell me what I want to do with my life.

And there’s no person who can tell me that either. That leaves just me to decide, right? But what if I don’t know? Because I don’t.

I stand here, lost in an utterly alien landscape.

There are only a few choices.

One: Look backwards. Yet no matter how quickly you run in that direction, you never get anywhere. The landscape stretches and you get further and further from where you want to go. Time does not allow you to move backwards.

Option one, therefore, is out of the picture.

Two: Sit down, paralyzed. Never get anywhere. Survive, but do nothing. Live a boring life.

Unacceptable. To throw away the gift of life without doing anything with it is equivalent to suicide.

Option two, therefore, is out of the picture.

Three: Pick a direction and trudge forward. Put one foot in front of the other.

I choose option three.

The path I choose will be arbitrary, but so is any other. The absurdity and arbitrariness of the universe is simultaneously a source of despair and a source of consolation. My choices don’t matter, but my mistakes don’t either. Maybe I don’t know what I want, but does it really matter?

Perhaps I will find what I like while travelling along this new path and perhaps I won’t. Nevertheless, I sure as hell won’t find it just sitting here. To find what’s beyond the horizon, I must walk forward.

In order to make sure this decision is not completely useless, I must move from the abstract to the concrete. I must make specific choices.

First of all, I choose to take this semester to pursue as many things as I can, and then, make my choices later as to where to focus. What can I handle? What can I not? I don’t know, and I won’t know, until I just overload myself. Furthermore, I don’t know what I like, and this will help narrow things down.

I have obligations towards three clubs: The Pool Club, the College Republicans, and The Carrollton Record. I will keep up my pool playing skills, provided my shoulder issues haven’t ruled that out. I will use the College Republicans to train people on how to make an impact, regardless of their political inclinations. I will maintain a policy of integrity. I will do this training regardless of the group’s size. I will continue to write for The Carrollton Record, and I will attempt to widen it’s online audience.

I choose to not neglect my studies and maintain my high GPA. I will not get a grade lower than an A-. I choose to take 12 credits a semester for the rest of my undergraduate experience in order to pursue extracurriculars and develop better relations with my professors.

I choose to pursue philosophy more vigorously. I will post philosophy on this blog and write more serious essays. I will solicit my professor’s opinions on this philosophizing.

I choose to be a cartoonist. I need The Chalkboard Manifesto as an alternative creative outlet. It makes my life better and funnier. I will fulfill my update obligations. I will expand my comic’s audience.

I choose to be a writer — an essayist, of sorts. I will look for opportunities to write in different publications. I will look for jobs at different publications.

I choose to be an activist. Specifically, I’d like to expand voting by introducing same-day registration everywhere or eliminating registration, and I’d like to move voting to the weekend. Of course, this isn’t a personal goal, and I’d have to team up with many other people to achieve this.

I choose to refine and change these goals on a regular basis and as needed.