What am I doing here?

I set down here to right something meaningful and perhaps inspirational this late, humid night in South Carolina as I procrastinate my homework. I have Shattered Glass playing in the background. It is the ultimate journalism junkie movie. After an hour of Religious Studies reading and questioning what I am doing here, I begin to apply every facet of my life to this thought, including the background noise.
Now follow me because this is obscure thoughts. After delving deeply into my classes and their content I have begun to question those Hindu religious questions of self. Why am I here? I'm not going off on a personal tangent, at this point in my life I do not feel the need to question my natural existence. However, being in college the constant thoughts of career have embedded themselves in my brain. And now that I sit here half listening to Shattered Glass half talking politics with my roommate I have come upon inevitable question again. What am I doing here?
I am a student of journalism which is rightful, if that makes sense. In other words, all signs point to 'good decision.' But where in that vast field do I belong? Watching Chuck battle through a crisis of fabrication, I come to question these goals I have laid out for myself. Do I really want to be a journalist? Yes. Do I want to be a reporter? I don't know. Do I want to be an editor? I don't know.
I know these are the same questions every college student asks. Some of them wait until senior year and others wait until after graduation- in the case of my brothers. But now that I am here- my future that is- I have begun to question more and more my "dreams." Meeting new people on campus they constantly ask "what do you want to do when you graduate?" It seems the "When I grow up" is no longer applicable. I am grown up. So what am I; where am I?
Maybe I just do not have enough experience in any field to really know where I am headed or why I am having these thoughts. Just call me impatient. I know in time and with new encounters and information I will naturally discover where I want to be, who I want to become, but for now, I guess I can only know what I know, not to sound too fortune cookie. At some point I will reach the same fork in the woods that Chuck passed which led him to "editor" or Carl Berstein to "reporter." Maybe mine will say "writer" or "designer." All I can say is I don't know why I am here or even where I am and why I am writing this mindless thought process. So much for writing something meaningful.