Check out Freshman Disorientation, Casey Eade’s previous post.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about My Future. It warrants capitalization because it’s been hovering at the back of my mind for years, amplified by college’s demands, but since finals have finally (pun intended) drawn to a close, the worry has elbowed its way to the front of my mind.

Freshman disorientation was the biggest punch to the gut I’ve ever been dealt. (Next to the actual punches to the gut inflicted by a soccer ball upon a nine-year-old me in P.E., but I digress). I was fairly frantic with worry, watching others sail ahead, confident in their career choices. Nurses, biologists, dentists, doctors, business professionals, all very nearly guaranteed stable careers. But being a journalism major doesn’t come with the same amount of confidence. It’s a lot of trial and error, a bit like an actor scrambling to find work. And with the economy as pitiful as it is, things look even shakier for the field. My professors were foretelling a journalistic Armageddon. Other students with more experience under their belt were changing majors, telling me, “Run while you can, scout. Future’s bleak for us reporters.”

Okay, no one actually called me “scout,” but you get my drift.

Naturally, I was “disoriented.” I was scared. I am scared. But for whatever reason, that trepidation is no longer all-consuming. Persistent, yes, but hushed slightly by something bigger and louder and rather melodramatic.


Alright, alright, it’s all very Disney movie, but let’s all be honest here: talking animals aside, Disney may have been onto something with that whole “follow your dreams” thing. I tried casting the constant influx of negative thoughts aside and I gave “keep your chin up” a try.

And you know something? I kind of like it.

Because for the first time in a  long time, I have hope. Hope for my future. Hope–anticipation, even–that I can get a job in journalism, that I can pave a path for myself. Hope that maybe all those big, singsongy, Disney-esque dreams aren’t confined to my imagination. Hope that a gig on the Today Show or a spot on CNN could actually become my reality. Hope that maybe, just maybe, all those naysayers are wrong.

Hope that I can prove those naysayers wrong.

You know, maybe freshman disorientation wasn’t such a bad thing after all. It lead to sophomore reorientation: the realization that my fears are natural, but just might be unfounded and have no place in crippling my desires. I’m young, and self-doubt shouldn’t be in my vocabulary. So, Pulitzer Prize? I’m back in business. See you in a few decades. I’m getting back on my feet with a newfound desire to prove myself, Disney style.

Minus the talking mice, of course.

Although, you have to admit, that would be more than a little awesome.

Casey Eade is a journalism major at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. She loves the arts, stuffy, redundant classic literature, and dreaming about traveling the world as a show host or a foreign news correspondent. Until that big journalism gig comes along, she can be found blogging at