*In my column, I will be examining and commenting on relevant and often controversial topics. Whether the topics have been recently wracking my brain or brought up by peers, you can bet that the words written here are important to you, the reader. Enjoy.

~Your new co-editor-in-chief

The past year, colleges have been sending me a large amount of literature. For each college letter I receive, I am increasingly puzzled; these colleges are inquiring about information that I do not know, as if they expect me to be deeply in touch with myself. However, their questions are not odd in their demands: they simply want to know about me. Well, who am I?

When examining such a broad question–one found on poorly printed job applications or tedious college entry essays–it is easy to fall silent. The question, so simple yet so dynamic, makes me wonder how it is I fail to answer.

High school is about identity. It’s about the superficial and the deep things that we value, and our flexible yet often unwavering personalities. While I seem to understand myself emotionally, it’s the materialistic interests that I am unsure about, yet that often have the highest stake in building high school relationships.

It’s the musical tastes, the fashion senses, the academics that I am talking about. All these concrete things that defined me at one point are now changing, and I find myself stuck in a superficial “no man’s land.” I feel torn between all these interests that were valuable to the whole of my identity and all these interests that I think I need to like–and that I legitimately think I like–but am struggling to fully accept.

This separation stems from high school’s natural design to open one’s mind and thrust many distinctive influences and choices upon a person. As I meet new people, I am opened up to new thoughts, ways of life–which is a powerful, positive thing; but, most prominently, new material interests of these new people. And I aspire to be these people; I aspire to like these things that these new people like, to change myself in their image. This transformation requires a sneaky mind trick to convince my brain–and my heart–that I sincerely like these current trends and interests, as opposed to my more traditional interests.

The point is–and this is where we come full circle–that I should not fret about being unable to answer such an immense question when deciding which college suits me best, such as, “Who am I?” If there’s an “undecided” option for interests, then that’s the one I would choose. Being “undecided.” The term carries a romantic air to it, a professed, open-minded spirit.

Maybe the things that make me “me” are not always going to be definite and yet the fact that they are always growing a is part of my uniqueness, part of who I am.

I would like to think there were a simple answer to such a difficult question dealing with who somebody is. But perhaps the fact that it is so hard to answer says something about the beauty in our complexities and the depth of our personalities.