Here at Dartmouth, we aren't all 20 yet, but we're close. Rest assured, freshmen, it scoots by quickly. Before you know it, you'll be out of here: with a piece of paper that says you are a graduate and a piece of paper that tells you how old you are but no piece of paper that tells you what to do with any of that. And there's the rub.

Even if you aren’t guaranteed a large inheritance when you graduate, you are still probably awed by the multiplicity of choices facing you. There are something like 5,942 departments at our school – according to the last time I (informally) counted – and pretty much all of them are populated by extremely bright academics who find what they do incredibly interesting. You could have one of any number of jobs within those fields, or in law, or in medicine, or in business, or in education, or in music, or in writing, or in the military, or in construction. Or you could start your own company and do absolutely anything. Bottom line: there are a lot of freaking jobs out there, and you can choose between almost any of them – without having to worry that Uncle Sam will send you to Vietnam. Faced with such freedom, it feels like all of us little boys and girls almost have an obligation to see what's out there.

Careers aren't the only things causing us to feel overwhelmed. The world is a much smaller place than when our parents were our age: today, in the span of fifteen minutes, I can book a ticket to Warsaw, get a hostel reservation for this coming Sunday, then scope out some good night spots for when I get into town. I can also get on Facebook and see pictures of thousands of people my own age, maybe even finding out some things about them by browsing their profiles.

Psychologically, all of these choices are causing issues for us. Studies have shown that humans are often happy with fewer rather than more options. We see this in simple ways – like indecision in the grill line for certain hammered individuals on Friday nights – but also in more complex ones, like our choice of cars and where to live. The problem with more choices for a given scenario is that we're plagued by the thought of a sub-optimal outcome. 20-somethings, especially at Dartmouth, face this in spades.

We've been conditioned not to accept failure, to rely on our families, friends, and social programs for support, and to expect a bevy of options at every turn. All of this choice is magnificent in many respects, but it comes at a heavy psychic cost, and this is what Henig is really getting at. It breeds insecurities and a sense of being overwhelmed. If we let it, it also creates doubt about the choices we’ve made thus far. For 20-somethings, this can mean career reboots and a sense of wanderlust as we seek a place in the world to call our own. In many cases, this means putting things like children on hold – and sometimes financial independence – since those kids and jobs can anchor us down in unpleasant ways. We've been lectured at our entire lives about the possibilities that await us, and we came to Dartmouth with hopes of unlocking them – why would we want to marry and settle down now?

Since there's a new crop of freshmen on campus, I feel as though I should dispense some advice: tell the sociologists to shove it. Yes, we could be losing economic productivity and chances to have families while we're young, and maybe we're radically altering what it means to be a young adult in America. But we have unprecedented opportunities to explore and shape the world because of those choices. Sometimes that means trying something bold and failing, and sometimes that means moving back into your bedroom with your soccer trophies and old pillows. So long as you remember to do some good in the world while you’re figuring your life out, I say go for it.