I don’t know how it happened, but it has. I’m no longer an underclasswoman. Somewhere, between Habitat for Humanity break trips, broken bones, adventures with friends, worry-free summers and pages upon pages of literature papers, I’m about to take on the title “senior.” And I am not ready.

I’m told that I shouldn’t be worried, that this “senior” thing happens to thousands of other people every year here at Western alone. But I’m not prepared for this, not at all. Because when you’re a senior, you see, you’re supposed to be able to have deep, well-thought-out explanations of who, where and why you are. When you’re a senior, you’re supposed to have your life figured out. Society requires it.

But I’m hitting the homestretch here in a couple of months, and I don’t know completely who I am yet. I hope that I never will, for that matter.

And I certainly don’t have my life mapped out to a tee. I know that I won’t. Ever.

And this makes me squeamish.

But not because I haven’t ironed out the details of my life. No, I’m scared because so many other people-my parents, teachers, friends-are worried that I haven’t. I don’t have direction. Who wouldn’t feel anxious about their last year of college with so many people worried about them?

I’m perfectly OK without knowing what the future holds for me, but because the people around me expect otherwise, I can’t help but feel anxious about the final leg of my academic journey. Graduating a year from now scares the begeezus out of me. More than anything-more than people having sex in a bike path or me running into glass windows or fire hydrants-I’m worried that I’m going to disappoint all the caring folks who believe that going to college is about finding oneself and one’s direction in life.

While I can see the reasons behind their worries-who wouldn’t be worried about stability in this economy?-I’m not sure that I agree with the credo that college is about finding things.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s about getting lost and wandering until you’re in a place you never expected to be. Indeed, if J.R.R. Tolkien’s proverbial “Not all who wander are lost” saying holds true, maybe those of us without concrete plans are going to be just fine.

Most of my enriching life experiences have been relatively unplanned, from writing this column to trying sushi to traveling to Argentina to becoming an English major to becoming friends with a girl from Colombia. These are things that I never thought would happen, but if I hadn’t allowed myself a little wandering time they probably wouldn’t have occurred. Being “lost,” then, became an adventure.

I realize that you may not agree with me, that you may believe that half the fun in life is planning for it.

But whatever the case may be, I hope that you have a wonderful summer and a great start to the next part of your life, whatever it entails. I just hope that you’ll take some time and get lost once in a while. You may find yourself smiling.