Our parents grew into young adulthood with far fewer choices than we have today, Sure, those choices are opened up by predatory loan programs and the commodification of education, but they are choices nonetheless. One can go to college (and thrive until old age, reportedly), not go to college (and die alone, living in a van, we are to assume), delay going to college to build up a work history, and so on. Getting to college only opens up yet more labyrinthine paths. Majors, clubs, activities, internships, grad school and the issue of whether you should go to grad school, minors, double majors, and so on and so forth into brain-spinning infinity.
It’s when these choices become a burden on me that the hackneyed fantasy writing standby of the prophecy seems most intriguing and enviable. There’s something romantic, exciting, and (above all) convenient about the prospect of having a destiny. It’s not just something you have to do, it’s something only you can do. Not only does it remove the burden of choosing among a thousand possible things you could do, it points out the one thing you should do most, the thing you’re most suited for, and says “Here it fucking is!”