This is America. Stress is the name of the game, especially if you’re in college — right? Feeling stressed means that we’re working hard. Working hard means that we’re preparing for the future. Preparing for the future means that, someday, we’re going to have the lives we’ve always dreamed of.

… Or are we?

Take about six steps backward and look at the big picture. Ask those tough questions that your high school teachers tried to make you ignore. Why are you in college? Why are you majoring in _______? Are you learning relevant material?

Are you thinking yet? If you’ve read this far, you probably have some unanswered questions. Stay with me, then, because it’s about to get much harder.

You: AHH! I’m sooo stressed!
Me: Uh-oh, why’s that?
You: I’ve got six exams, four projects, nine dissertations and a partridge in a pear tree due next week! I’m gonna DIE!!
Me: Okay, simmer down. Stress isn’t caused by the work; it’s caused by how you react to the work. Why are you doing so much, anyway? Is getting straight A’s really worth all of this?
You: Yes, because I’m trying to get into med school! And law school! And underwater basketweaving school! And…
Me: Wow! Why do you want to do that?
You: So I can become a doctor! And a lawyer! And… an underwater basketweaver?
Me: Okay, that’s quite an ambition… why did you choose those particular fields?

Now if this is something that you’re honestly struggling with, I want you to take a moment to think about that last question. Seriously — don’t continue reading until you’ve answered it.

If your answer contained anything resembling the words “parents” or “money,” don’t take this too harshly, but you’re in the wrong field. I don’t care how much money you can make, or what other people expect of you; if you cannot honestly say that you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing because you enjoy it (not simply that enjoying it is a side effect), and because it’s important to the world, you’re going to be miserable for the rest of your life.

Some of you, especially younger pre-med majors, are screaming at me right now. “But Scott, it’s all going to pay off in the end! Once I’m done with undergrad and med school and residency and cult initiation, I’m going to love my job!”

I’m going to fire back: What, exactly, is the purpose of going through college/med school/residency? Is it not to prepare you for what you’re going to experience on the job? Is it not so that you can “practice” medicine effectively? And wouldn’t the most effective way to learn be by experiencing (as much as possible) things that pertain to the job you hope to someday have?

You can put two and two together. If you don’t like your major, and assuming that your major is actually similar to your desired career path, how are you ever going to enjoy your career? Or, for that matter, your life? (And if your major has nothing to do with its corresponding career, what’s the point of college in the first place?)

I’ve touched on this before in Purpose of Education.

So let’s say that you’ve come to an epiphany. You hate Underwater Basketweaving. Congratulations! Now, then, what’s next? If you’ve been paying attention, that step should be obvious — decide what you want to do. (There’s something for everyone… even if it’s Entrepreneurship!) Some would argue that you should choose a career path based on service, calling, contribution or what have you. I agree with that, but it still has to be something you truly want to do. Otherwise, you won’t do it effectively, no matter how important it is.

At this point, don’t even think about how much money you’ll be making (or not making). In fact, don’t even think about how much skill you have in a given field. If you’re doing what you truly love, both of those things (not to mention straight A’s) will come naturally. When your work stops feeling like work and starts feeling like an enjoyable hobby, you’ll know you’ve hit the jackpot. And hitting the jackpot is a great way to relieve stress.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go change my major.

Article partially inspired by this podcast: Creative Self-Expression

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It’s Monday morning, around 7:30. I am in the weight room of the Athletic Complex, sitting at the leg press machine. I glance down at the pad of paper on which I record my progress, and see the number 16. “Okay,” I think to myself. “I did 16 reps on Friday, so today, I should be able to do 17.” And I begin. As usual, the first several reps are easy, but it doesn’t take long… 11… 12… 13… “This is starting to hurt, but I can’t give up yet!” 14… 15… 16… 17! “Whew! I made it!” That’s when I look at my notepad to jot the number, and am shocked by a realization. I didn’t do 16 leg presses on Friday (I must have been looking at a different exercise); I did only 12.

My exercise program, inspired by the Colorado Experiment, consists of several different exercises, one set each, completed to failure (i.e. when I physically cannot do any more repetitions). After hitting 20 reps, I increase the weight. Under this program, an increase of five reps between sessions is pretty significant.

But I didn’t think I was going far until the set was done. I was only trying for a small goal… and immediately quit as soon as I’d met it. I don’t know for sure that I could have done any more reps, but I almost didn’t even try after #17. I wonder how much more effort I truly could have put into my workout this morning.

Society teaches us to set goals and strive to meet them. There’s nothing wrong with that, inherently; but what happens after we meet our goals? Sometimes we’re tempted to stop there, or “take a break” even if we decide to set a higher goal and press on. Or sometimes we fail to meet our goals, and immediately conclude that they were too lofty. I, however, advocate a different approach: Failure? What’s that? It just seems like yet another excuse for apathy.

Does my exercise anecdote sound familiar? You can probably think of a situation in your own life that parallels it. The moral of the story is the same: Failure is all in your head.

Age 1: Enjoy the little things. Sometimes they’re all you have.

Age 2: Everything has a purpose, even if you don’t understand it.

Age 3: Believe it or not, your parents really do want the best for you.

Age 4: Siblings may resemble the devil incarnate, but you still have to deal with them for the rest of your life, so you might as well remain on good terms.

Age 5: Treat each person you see today as if you’ll never see them again. It may be true. Then again, sometimes life throws you a curve ball…

Age 6: Everyone was born with a set of unique talents and abilities. Some will be more obvious than others, and some people will learn about their talents earlier than others. It’s not what your talents are, but how you use them that makes all the difference.

Age 7: Everything has a purpose, even if you don’t understand it.

Age 8: Some people have oversized egos. They may be intimidating at first, but don’t worry — deep down inside, they’re just insecure, and possibly even jealous of you. They will never admit this.

Age 9: You can’t judge a book by its cover. You can’t judge people by their looks, either. But you still do, whether you realize it or not.

Age 10: Just because other people like to boast doesn’t mean they enjoy you doing it. Keep your head to a respectable size, and you’ll make more friends.

Age 11: Stand out in the crowd, and people will look at you. They’ll probably laugh at you. But rest assured that at least a few people out there want to join you. Groupthink may prevent them from actually doing so, but someday, they will be brave enough to stand on their own. Until then, it’s up to you.

Age 12: Sometimes, it’s just not meant to be. Don’t let that get you down. There’s always a good reason.

Age 13: If you don’t like the system, don’t fight it directly. You don’t have the strength to win. Follow it, fly under the radar, climb the ladder… then use your influence to change the system from the top down.

Age 14: You are simultaneously more popular and less popular than you realize… especially when it comes to the opposite sex.

Age 15: Everyone is worth your time, but you may be better off spending that time doing different things with different people — like introducing them to somebody else and politely excusing yourself.

Age 16: Don’t act righteous, even if you are. People hate that. Instead, learn to be a good friend and forget about being judgmental. In the long run, it’s your own mistakes that will be most damaging.

Age 17: People you met many years ago will spontaneously reappear in your life in very unexpected ways. However, they will be radically different, perhaps almost unrecognizable (in looks and personality)… as will you.

Age 18: You remember what you learned back when you were three? Well, your parents may want the best for you, but that doesn’t mean they never make mistakes. Someday, you’ll make mistakes as a parent, too. But if you can avoid the same mistakes your parents made, your children will be marvelous people.

Age 19: Act your age. Nothing gives you the right to complain about your life to everyone in the vicinity. If you’re carrying baggage, there are plenty of people out there who would be glad to help unload it… but you’ve got to ask first.

Age 20: Change is what life is all about, so get used to it. It’s great to remember the past, but dangerous to cling to it.

Age 21: At age seven, you learned that everything has a purpose. People have purposes too, and what’s depressing is that most of them don’t even know it. It’s easier to learn than you might think. Here’s a hint: The day you’ve stopped learning and growing is the day you’ve gone down the wrong path.

(Almost) Age 22: Thinking for its own sake is fruitless. Sometimes, the soundest decisions are made on a whim. Emotion is rooted in reason, but reason is emotionless. Follow your heart, or you’ll end up regretting it.