If I’ve learned one thing in life, it’s that there’s always time to change your mind. Sure, choices in life may seem per-manent and people often go on and on about how much weight your deci- sions carry. But in the big scheme of things, sometimes changing your mind about a decision is what you need to do.

Take me, for example. No one has changed their mind more than I have. I’ve flip-flopped more than a good pair of sandals, waffled more then an International House of Pancakes. If you could major in minoring, I’d have a PhD by now.

I’ve always been a communications major, but at different points I’ve been a minor in psychology, computer science, music technology — I’m still registered as a political science minor, despite veering off that path two years ago. I’ve taken so many 100-level courses that there is probably one person from each graduating class who still thinks I’m a freshman.

People see changing your mind as a bad thing. And, true, “indecisive” is certainly not a word you would put on your resume. But changing your mind in the flexible environ- ment college offers is one of the

best things you can do. How are you supposed to know what you’re missing if you don’t give everything a try?

As a senior, I don’t see the hours spent in those entry-level classes as a waste. Some of my best friends are people I never would have met, people I never would have consid- ered meeting, had I never taken those classes. I see those classes as brief glimpses inside the different jobs I could pursue, different direc- tions I could take in my life. For me, taking those classes fulfilled the true definition of that amorphous pursuit: gaining a liberal arts educa- tion.

Well, maybe I just see them as good practice for my “Jeopardy!” audition.

But either way, with only a few months left at Elon, I’m changing my mind one more time. After spending a year and a half as the guy in The Pendulum who never writes, I’m starting a column. I’ve always wanted to write. I’ve idolized writ- ers like Joel Stein, Rick Reilly — anyone who ever wrote the column on the last page of a magazine. I love the quick, witty stories they’ve told. But there’s never been room in this paper for someone who can only write in first person — until now.

In the next few editions, I hope I can use these few inches of news- print to tell stories and share facts that will at least make you smirk a little. For first-year students, I hope I can tell you something that helps ease the transition from not-the-

real-world to slightly-closer-to- the-real-world-but-definitely-way- too-awesome-to-be-the-real-world. (Unlike Elon, the real world is not a botanical garden in disguise.)

For seniors, I hope I can tell you something that distracts you from the fact that in a few months, every- thing in your life is going to change and you must now become the adult you’ve been pretending to be. (Clearly, I’m not starting out well on that goal.)

I’m here for you. Send questions, advice requests, funny internet jokes, anything that might make a good column to thelastwordelon@ gmail.com I’m here to entertain and enlighten.

Unless, of course, I change my mind.