The future, unless you’re referencing “The Jetsons” or the movie “Idiocracy,” is usually the… The future, unless you’re referencing “The Jetsons” or the movie “Idiocracy,” is usually the last thing college kids want to talk about. Oddly enough, it seems to be the first thing that comes out of everybody else’s mouth.

It starts early on, around the beginning of sophomore year, when curious relatives and friends’ parents ask, “What’re you studying?” or “What’s your major?” That slowly trickles into “So, what are you going to do with that?” until halfway through junior year, when every part-time job you take, paper you write and movie you watch is expected to lead to some overarching goal in the future.

Then you get to senior year, when the interrogation gets even more intense. “What do you want to do when you get out?” sounds innocent on the surface, but what it really means is “What do you want to do for the rest of your life?” or “How have you been ruining your chances of doing that in the last four years?”

With barely more than a semester left in my college career, I get asked these questions all the time, but I very rarely have a serious answer. I usually just crack a joke about sleeping on my friend’s couch or entering into a Buddhist monastery, whatever I can think of to not have to answer those ridiculous questions. That is, until now.

What do I want to do after I graduate? You really want to know? OK, I’ll tell you.

I want to go to the Super Bowl and the Rose Bowl. I want to see the Kentucky Derby and the Daytona 500. I want to stand at the finish line of the Iditarod. I want to witness an aurora borealis. I want to watch Punxsutawney Phil give his weather report. I want to ride a bullet train in Japan and go ice fishing in Alaska. I want to get into one really good fight. And I want to win.

I want to write a novel and a screenplay. I want to write the cover story for Rolling Stone and the back-page column for Sports Illustrated. I want to have a life worth writing an autobiography about, but I don’t want to write it.

I want to read the Bible, Koran and Plato’s “Republic” from cover to cover, and understand everything. I want read to James Joyce’s “Ulysses” and Leo Tolstoy’s “War and Peace,” and pretend like I understand anything. I want to read The New York Times every day for an entire year and see if I get any smarter.

I want to learn how to ski. I want to learn how to start a fire with two sticks. I want to learn how to make lasagna, fix a car engine and blow smoke rings. I want to learn how to play the drums, piano, banjo, sitar, Jew harp and start a band in which I could play all of them at the same time.

I want to hang out with Bill Clinton and Bill Russel, just to hear what they would say. I want to hang out with Bob Barker and Steve Buscemi, just to be able to say I did. I want to hang out with Jessica Alba for completely different reasons.

I want to teach a kid how to tie his shoes, just like they do in the movies. I want to teach a kid how to read, even though they don’t show that in movies very often. I want to teach a kid how to ride a bike, swim butterfly and throw a spiral. I also want to learn how to ride a bike, swim butterfly and throw a spiral.

I don’t want to grow up. I want to eat candy, ride roller coasters and watch cartoons until they are made illegal. I want to swing on swing sets and slide down water slides. Fifty years from now, I still want to laugh every time I watch “Space Jam.”

I want to own a humidor full of Cuban cigars. I want to know the difference between zinfandel and chardonnay. I want to earn my pilot’s license. I want to score the winning goal, touchdown, point or run at a major sporting event. I want to be cool enough to wear a leather jacket and not look like a huge tool.

I want to live in Vancouver, Seattle, Chicago, Copenhagen, Budapest and Buenos Aires. I want to visit Seoul, Athens, Las Vegas, Dubai, Reykjavik, Nashville and Toronto. If I could have any job for a day, I’d be a matador or a zookeeper. If I could have it for a week, I’d be a park ranger or kayak instructor. If I had it for a month, I’d be a bartender or a movie stunt driver.

As you can see, I want to do a lot of things. Everybody has his list, but will any of it ever get done? I don’t know, and, most likely, neither do you. The future is a very long time; lots of things can, and will happen. If I never climb Mount Everest, is my life a failure? If I do, is it a success?

We all have so much to worry about now, that it’s hard to think too hard about the future. It’s so much easier to focus on now, when our biggest problems are finals and laundry. But eventually, we all have to buckle down and figure out what we are going to do with the rest of our lives.

I think I might leave that for next semester.

E-mail Sam at [email protected]. Stop procrastinating.