During her freshman year, Amanda Mullins studied geology by climbing a lot of high rocks, for instance. But with physics, biology, linear algebra and vector geometry on the horizon, trouble was quickly brewing.

I don't know what I want to do with my life.

This terrible lack of indecision on my part didn't become a sin until about two years ago -- the summer after my freshman year in college.

I came to Virginia Tech with high hopes. I already had my major picked out -- geology -- and I felt I had it made in the shade. I had wanted to be a geologist since I was about 15, so I figured I would take my geology classes, earn my degree and study rocks forever.

I felt confident, ahead of the game. After all, I wasn't one of those kids majoring in university studies, whatever that was. I knew, from the bottom of my heart to the top of my soul, what I wanted to do with my life.

Well, unfortunately, life never turns out the way we plan, now does it?

By the end of my first semester, I knew geology wasn't for me. As it turned out, I wasn't going to be taking only fun geology classes. Instead, I was also going to have to take physics, biology, linear algebra, vector geometry and a long list of other math classes with strange, intimidating names.

Math, just to let you know, has never been my strong suit. So, as I trudged across the Drillfield every Monday, Wednesday and Friday, calculus book in hand, I fell farther and farther into the black Pit of Despair.

"Man," I thought to myself, "what am I going to do with my life?"

"Jeez," I continued in the same vein, "those university studies kids really knew what they were doing. They aren't stressed and depressed because they're in the wrong major and falling behind in the game of life."

Yes, I can admit it: I was jealous.

You see, in high school, I was a Little Miss Smarty-Pants of the worst kind: Winner of the "Most Intellectual" award (my superlative, I swear), salutatorian and a bubbly cheerleader.

I had a list of extracurricular activities that would make any Type-A drool and a decent SAT score.

I had it all -- everything it took to get me into a great college.

However, as most of you know, having what it takes to get into college and having the passion and drive to succeed in a career are two very different things.

I may have had a great resume, but the passion and drive for geology just weren't there. As freshman year came to a close, I found myself back at square one. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, but hey, I had the summer, right?

I could just figure it out then. Well, somewhere upstairs, God was laughing.

During that summer, I didn't really soul-search; instead, I worked, read books and relaxed.

I put off thinking about my future like a woman puts off a visit to the gynecologist, and, as I hauled my stuff into Slusher Tower (my dorm, for all you non-Hokies) once again, I could feel my stress level beginning to rise.

It seemed as if all around me people were making plans. My roommate was talking about architecture internships; a good friend was excited about volunteering at a veterinarian's office.

And what was Little Miss Makes Straight-A's doing? Flipping feverishly through her course guide, trying to find classes and (hopefully) a major that interested her.

Desperate? Yes.

Smart? No.

I felt like a complete failure. I could make good grades, but I couldn't do anything else.

At the ripe old age of 19, I just knew I was going to be one of those kids that moves back home and lives with her parents until she dies a cold and lonely death at the age of 97 -- surrounded by cats, no doubt.

It's funny what desperation can do to a girl.

I finally settled on some political science classes. A current events junkie, I found comparative government and introduction to U.S. government interesting.

"OK," I thought, "I can major in political science. Finally, I'm on the right track."

Second semester, I took an introduction to Shakespeare course and liked it.

I thought, "What the heck?" and picked up an English major as well.

So, I had decided on not just one major, but two. I was so proud of myself.

Unfortunately, none of my friends was that impressed; they were just glad they didn't have to hear me whining about my lack of a future anymore.

My parents and older sister were only partly relieved and immediately pierced to the heart of the matter.

"So, Amanda," they asked, "What are you going to do with that?"

At this question, my elation died a brutal death, kind of like it was pushed out of a 40-story window and had to contemplate its painful landing all the way down to the hard, cold pavement below.

"So, what was I going to do with two liberal arts degrees? Hmmm, what an excellent question."

You're probably not surprised to know that I still don't have the answer.

While my friends plan their brilliant careers (and I do not mean that facetiously; they will be brilliant), I dabble in this and that.

I've been an office worker, a cashier, a writer, a copy editor, a tutor and a nursery worker (kids, not plants).

I'm three classes short of a geology minor and one class short of a minor in public and urban affairs.

It's taken me a while, but I've finally realized there is nothing wrong with changing your mind or just not knowing.

For years, I was driven -- by teachers, my friends and even by my family (God love 'em) -- to be the best, to do something great with my life.

I never felt that it was acceptable to just be a confused girl trying to sort out her life.

Now I know it's OK to do just that, and that feels pretty good.

Right now, I'm just sitting in limbo, waiting for the dice to roll.

And if anyone asks, I say I'm going to law school.

Amanda Mullins is a senior at Virginia Tech, majoring in political science and English.