Let’s take it back to 18-year-old me: wide-eyed, tragically optimistic and absolutely convinced I was going to be an English major until the day I died. I was ready to die on that hill—preferably surrounded by stacks of old books and a typewriter that didn’t work but looked cool in photos. I thought I was going to be the next Joan Didion, or at the very least, the kind of person who throws around the word “juxtaposition” in casual conversation.
I was the girl who was annotating The Bell Jar like it was a religious text. I had a tote bag with a quote from Jane Eyre on it. I drank black coffee even though I hated it because I thought that’s what English majors were supposed to do. I took myself very seriously.
And it wasn’t even a bad choice. English majors are cool! Shoutout to the other lit kids—you’re doing amazing, sweeties. But here’s the thing no one tells you when you’re 18 and dramatically declaring your major on the first day of college orientation: you might change your mind.
Worse—you might want to change your mind, but feel too guilty, too scared or too proud to actually do it.
Because at 18, picking a major feels like choosing a spouse. And suddenly you’re in this weird academic arranged marriage with Chaucer, and you’re too afraid to ask for a divorce.
But here’s the kicker: you don’t have to marry your major. You don’t even have to stay in a long-term situationship with it. College is where you’re supposed to figure it out, not already have it figured out. No one expects you to walk into freshman year knowing what you’re going to do for the rest of your life—except, of course, everyone does.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t end up staying an English major. I still got the degree (because again, I am nothing if not committed to the bit), but I pivoted. I picked up journalism. Then communications. Then, slowly but surely, marketing started creeping into my life like that one friend-of-a-friend who shows up to every party and you’re like, “Wait… why are you actually kind of fun?”
And now? I’m probably going to end up in something like marketing. Which is hilarious, because that’s what my mom told me to do from the beginning.
Every time I mention the word “campaign” or say something horrifying like “let’s pivot to video,” I can feel my mom’s smug energy radiating through the phone. She’s earned it. She tried to tell me. I said, “No, I’m not doing marketing. I’m going to be a writer.”
But plot twist: I’m still a writer. I just write emails people don’t open and captions for swimwear. I write scripts for news, marketing strategies for brands and snappy one-liners about items that I’m actually really proud of. I didn’t sell out—I adapted.
So if you’re 18, 20 or 25 and feeling like a hot mess because you’re not sure if your major is the one—take a breath. It’s okay. You can change your mind. You can double major, take something as a minor, or drop it altogether and go to trade school and become an electrician and make more money than all of us combined. This isn’t a trap. It’s a launchpad.
Your major might not define you forever, but your experience will shape you. The English degree didn’t make me a novelist (yet). But it made me a better thinker. A better writer. A more dramatic texter. It gave me structure, style and the ability to win arguments using MLA citations. It also allows me to piss off my editors with oxford commas (sorry Siena and Derek).
So no, I’m not exactly who I thought I’d be when I was 18. I’m actually better. More layered, a little tired, and a lot more caffeinated.
And I still can’t believe my mom was right.
Confessions of a Hot Mess continues next week with “Guide to College (2/6): “Love, Heartbreak, and Your First College Boyfriend (It’s Not That Deep… Until It Is)”
Big shout out to Kelsea Frobes for pitching this idea to me. <3
Can’t get enough of Confessions? Me neither! Check out the official Substack for extra content!
Wanna listen while you read? You can listen to the official playlist now! 💕
Confessions of a Hot Mess is the personal work of Emily Hess. The opinions expressed in this column, as well as those published in The Nevada Sagebrush, are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of The Sagebrush or its staff.
