Thankful for the advice I'm getting

I'm stuffed. Over Thanksgiving weekend, I gorged on turkey, cranberry sauce and squash. I also ingested enough advice to last until my retirement. Like many seniors who went home for the holiday, I overloaded on discussions about post-graduation plans. At the meal table, I think I heard the question "And what will you be doing next year?" more often than "Can you please pass the gravy?" At first, starved for some guidance, I welcomed career counseling. But as every conversation turned to the topic of life after college, hunger subsided and nausea kicked in. Lounging at the table with me after Thanksgiving dinner, my grandfather advised me to pick a job I loved. In his lifetime, he learned that passion is worth more than money. Grandpa is an academic whose love of philosophy paid off unexpectedly in the '60s when the University of Michigan asked him to apply his knowledge of logic to a new idea that took off -- the computer. On Friday, I consulted the people who know me better than I know myself -- my high school buddies. We needed to do some serious powwowing about next year, so we retreated to the war room: Denny's, the only all-night eatery in suburbia. My friends represent a smorgasbord of unique plans: chemical engineering, education, sports journalism, publishing and computer science. I, on the other hand, having operated this semester on the philosophy that enjoying the fleeting moments of senior year is far more important than face time with Peggy Curchack, had no plans. Yet, it was reassuring to know that we all shared the same anxieties. For one thing, our parents had been kneading us like bread for the answers they wanted about our life plans. And none of us had found comfort in the bittersweet promise of the current golden economy. Since job opportunities are purportedly sprouting like corn, I felt foolish that I'm struggling to find work. We dissected each person's prospects like professional turkey carvers rooting through a cooked bird -- and came up with lots of bones. Basically, we were no closer to figuring out what it's all about. Thinking I'd escape the madness in the safe haven of a dark movie theater, on Saturday I accompanied my family to the cineplex to see The Legend of Bagger Vance. The film was about -- what else? -- the meaning of life. The movie is based on the Bhagavad-Gita, the epic Hindu poem that suggests that one must cease thinking in order to achieve nirvana. I tried this at home with the film in mind, but the repeated mantra that engulfed my consciousness was not Ohm, but "I love you Matt Damon. I love you Matt Damon." By Sunday, I was so crammed full of theories on the meaning of life and promising career paths that I felt as sick as a pilgrim overdosing on cornbread. One thing I knew for certain: The countdown to May is going to be a rough six months. I'm not asking anyone to hand my future to me on a silver platter. I'm not asking for it to be easy. And even as I deal with my pre-graduation angst, I had more to be grateful for this Thanksgiving than ever before. I'm in line for a diploma from a top university, and my family and friends are right behind me to blow wind in my sails. We give thanks for having food on the table, health in our families and love in our lives. Some people don't get to pick. Some people don't have the luxury of flirting with destiny because they're just trying to get through each day. Some people have made it through four years of an Ivy League education in spite of, rather than because of, the experiences life has dealt us. I might be sick of worrying, but as long as I'm soul-searching instead of merely trying to subsist, I will be thankful. For me, the greatest privilege is getting to choose my own adventure.

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