As college life is coming to a close for me, I've been facing a lot of the "future." I'm constantly asked where I'm headed after this, which is promptly followed with "I have no idea!" There has been tons of ideas thrown at me, tons more that I've toyed with in my head, and tons that I've committed to then changed my mind.

Back in 2007, I started college as an English major. I registered for the basics, which included one intro English class and one sociology class among others. I enjoyed the English class, but I still had no idea what I was doing. Sociology made me ecstatic (one part being the professor I had, the other that it was exactly the way I seem to operate). The next semester, I did the same thing (one creative writing class and one "Psychology of Women" which focused a lot on the social aspects of women).

By the end of that semester, I was sold. I switched my major to Sociology and never looked back. I added things in (an English minor, a nursing degree, a dual degree in Women's Studies), but ultimately I'm graduating with a BS in Sociology and a minor in Women's & Gender Studies.

The whole reason that sociology (and women's studies) thrills me is ethnography. And I didn't realize this until I studied under an ethnographer and took several anthropology classes (and watched a lot of Bones). Small case studies of communities. Journals of how the society works and what the people do and think according to culture. It literally makes me jump inside.

There are a lot of things that give me that feeling. Like doing yoga. Or writing (this blog has many times made my heart soar). Reading, movies, travel, and my cat are among others. Now you're probably thinking...yea, you have interest, so what?

Yes, I have interests. Way too many for my own good (it makes choosing the future really freaking difficult!). But there's also a part of me that hates my own interests for other reasons. Specifically, health reasons.

You see, ethnographers and anthropologists study cultures. Yes, modern cultures. But usually, primitive societies. Those that exist in rural Mexico or the jungles of South America or the small cities in Africa. Those places thrill me. The places that have no hospitals, no clean drinking water, no electricity, no food. They enthrall me.

I want to just go and watch the people interact. I want to write books and journals on how these people function and why they do it how they do. I want to join the Peace Corps and help the Nicaraguans. I want to turn it into a best seller. I want to get a master's in anthropology. Today at least.

The whole problem though is this little thing called chronic illness. Diabetes. PCOS. Things that just get in the way of signing up for the Peace Corps and living on $5 in Armenia. To live in the remote villages of South America and be diabetic...I have no idea how that would function. What if I caught an illness? What if I couldn't get supplies? What if I had a seizure?

I so desperately would like to do this, to live this life. To study the Bedouins of Afghanistan. But I just don't see how I could. Now wouldn't that make a great blog: diabetic anthropologist in the Amazon Rainforest.

I'm sure I'll change my mind next week, but for now, I'm pretending that I'm signing up and traveling abroad. I'm pretending that I can. Because it'd be nice. And it'd thrill me. And if I can't go in reality, well, I can always go in my head.