Edit desk: The Excel sheet plan

Jada Green, B&W Staff

Sometimes, you can’t plan for everything.

I’m hoping if I say this enough times, I’ll start to believe it.

One afternoon during freshman year, I sat on my bed, opened up an Excel spreadsheet and planned out the next four years of my life. I made a column for each semester, from Fall 2012 to Spring 2016, and mapped out every class I had to take to fulfill my journalism major. It was organized, color-coded and pretty much foolproof.

Since I was a kid, I’ve planned things ahead to the point of neuroses.  At age 13, I decided that I was going to be a dermatologist when I grew up. I thought it would be perfect — I could balance family life with work by opening my own practice and setting my hours. I’d probably even be able to take Fridays off. That dream came and went, but rest assured, I carefully weighed the pros and cons of med school before making my final decision.

Around that age, I also formulated the Ice Cream Truck Plan. After I retire and I’m ready for something new in my life, I’d buy a vintage ice cream truck on eBay and restore it.  I’d spend my days driving around town doling out frozen desserts, maybe even coordinating with children’s sports teams so that I could be the friendly neighborhood ice cream lady who shows up after the little league games. Although I’ll have to work on the automotive repair aspect of the plan, I’m still hanging on to this dream.

While part of me laughs about living in the future and thinking up crazy possibilities, I’ve struggled with the idea of slowing down. Walking slower, being present, and just letting life unfold on its own. Mindfulness meditation has helped me with this in a lot of ways, but I still find myself always looking ahead.

Sophomore year, I had a meeting with my adviser about course scheduling. These meetings were always therapeutic because I was able indulge in some guilt-free future talk. In preparation, I consulted my trusty Excel sheet that I had made the year before. After taking summer classes and planning to complete an internship for academic credit, it needed some adjusting. I made the updates, moved a few things around and realized the “Fall 2015” and “Spring 2016” columns were empty.

When I got to the meeting, we did a degree audit and looked at the requirements I still needed to fulfill. Sure enough, my flawless four-year plan went out the window. After my junior year, I would only need six more credits, which could be completed in a summer session.  I entered the meeting a sophomore and left as a junior. Goodbye Class of 2016, hello Class of 2015.

I’m now in my last year at Lehigh and having an identity crisis. First, with my title — sometimes I call myself a senior, other times it makes me feel like a phony. But what has really shaken me up the most is the fact that for the first time in my life, I’m not sure what’s ahead.

It’s not that I don’t have a plan — it’s that I have about 12. The days of the Excel sheet method are long over. By inadvertently fast-forwarding through my college career, I catapulted myself into reality. Questions like ‘where should I apply for a job?’ and  ‘where do I want to live?’ can’t end in a sigh and a shrug. They need an answer.

I’ve been moving fast my whole life. (Of course, these skills never came in handy in phys-ed — running is one thing my body decides it can take its sweet time with.) It’s my thoughts that I could never seem to tame. What’s coming up next? How do I get there? What should I be doing right now?

When you’re in college, it’s impossible not to get ahead of yourself. Everything requires you to think in the future.  During freshman orientation, you’re given a “bLUeprint” to decide what you will do with your time at Lehigh. Before you know it, it’s time to think of internships. Next up is networking for jobs. It feels productive, but it’s easy for this type of thought process to snowball and become all-consuming.

With the knowledge that only hindsight brings, I caution others against this phenomenon. Slow down. Enjoy the journey. Don’t be the 13-year-old with a retirement plan.