When I was four years old I pretty much had the world sussed out. I knew where wind came from, I knew that girls were icky and I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was going to be a police officer, or a fireman, or an astronaut or some combination thereof. Now, at twenty-two, I've discovered that most of what I held to be true was not as cut and dry as I had thought.

Sadly, time waits for no man and before I knew it I was only a semester away from graduation. The point is driven home whenever I talk to people and they ask about University. Usually the conversation goes something like this;

“So you’re still at University?”
“Yeah, well I’ve only got one semester to go.”
“Oh great! Then what?”

Then it all falls to pieces. The person stands there with their smile gradually becoming frozen and fixed while I stutter and mumble, increasingly desperate to say something that will satisfy them. Lately I've taken to making up complex lies that will get them off my back but if pressed I will confess to the truth, that I don't know what comes next.

But if I've learnt anything so far it's that not knowing what comes next isn't the end of the world. Getting the piece of paper doesn't immediately guarantee you a job in your dream area but it's a start. Sometimes a start is enough, a vague direction instead of an explicit set of instructions. Now if only I could convince the people who keep asking me what I want to do with my life...