Hey you. The one who can’t decide on your major. Yeah, you. I’ve got two things to say to you.

First, you look nice today. Is that a new haircut?

Second, I know you’re all “conflicted” because your parents keep telling you to drop that useless Creative Writing degree and trade it in for something exciting and sexy like Dentistry or Accounting. But really – are you going to listen to that?

Now, I’m not one to incite domestic disobedience. If my mom read that last paragraph, she’d probably drive straight to my house and make me do the dishes just to prove she’s in control (and I’d listen, because when I was born, she had a chip implanted in my brain that explodes if I disobey).

But what I am saying is this: there are millions of things in this world that can sway the decision about your future – money, practicality, the opinions of your friends, how many nice looking girls (or guys) will be in your required classes.

But in truth, none of these should matter (except – let’s be honest – that last one). The only thing that should really matter is what makes you happy. When you complete your major, will you be able to go to work every day feeling like a rock star?

Life is full of people who want you to do things. There are Republicans who want you to sell your soul to the Army. There are Democrats who want you to give your soul to charity. There’s the devil who just wants to pour your soul over his Cheerios and eat it.

The only one who has the right to eat your soul with a bowl of cereal is you, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Ask yourself what makes you happiest and go after it. Don’t wait to pursue your dreams until you graduate. If music is your thing, become a music major – and start a band while you’re at it. If you have a passion for teaching underprivileged kids, get in touch with a charity organization and find a way to get started right away. You’ll always be happier doing what you love (even if it means struggling to make money) than you would if you had a high-class desk job but spent every day wishing you were somewhere else. The only person who needs to be happy with your life is you. Everyone else is probably going to spend their life on the couch with a bag of barbecue potato chips watching American Idol reruns, anyway.

And, could you do me a favor and not tell my mom I wrote this? I’d be in so much trouble. Thanks.