Sometimes I discover new things and become borderline obsessed. Chess, hacky-sacking, karate — these are just three of my fads that have come and gone in the last couple of years.

In the case of Fall Out Boy (pre-2013 comeback), I’m about a decade late to the party. But it’s my latest trend, and you know what they say: better late than never. I understand if you can’t relate; it wholly depends on what percent “emo” you achieved in 9th grade. (If you’re not sure where you rank on this scale, I’m sure there’s a Buzzfeed quiz you can take for it.)

I promise there is a point I want to make here before I peace out for the summer. Bear with me.

Speaking of summer, it is the end of the school year. Let me tell you, it has been a long year for me, and maybe for you as well. But we survived. As Fall Out Boy lyricist Pete Wentz would say, “we are the new faces of failure — prettier and younger, but not any better off.”

I am a reluctant millennial. (I say “reluctant” because I really think I belong in the ’50s; remind me to show you Polaroids from a ’50s photoshoot I did in high school.) These days, it is easy to feel like millennials are a dime a dozen. And, if the pre-graduation blues of my peers are any indication, many would say “I give up” is the anthem of this generation.

The problem is, there have never been more jobs available for young people. We are both blessed and cursed to live in a world that specializes in specialties. There is a niche for you and a niche for me.

This should be encouraging. Except in our “swipe left, swipe right” culture of shallow, borderline obsessions that come and go, we may actually be crippled by this expanse of options at our fingertips. After all, we are used to processing information at whatever bandwidth speed Facebook and Twitter operate — could that not also be the speed at which we scroll through those online classifieds? How many respectable job opportunities have been passed up because taking the time to “read more” was not worth it? Either the offer wasn’t comfortably in my niche, or it was too far out of it.

This is what I mean by a “curse of specialization.” Take me, for example. If I dedicated my free time to learning the intricacies of chess, I could eventually become a “chess specialist” — a grand master of chess. But I could just as easily dedicate my life to becoming a good driver (for me, this would probably take more work than learning chess), and eventually, I could rise to the top of the Uber pyramid and be considered a “transportation specialist.” Or, I could change my major three times in the course of nine years, and eventually be considered a “college specialist.” As you see, the possibilities are endless.

Here’s the point. My grandfather worked for a railroad. He was not any type of specialist that I am aware of. My other grandfather worked for the Pittsburgh steel mills. Together, they epitomized the adult male career paths of the 19th and 20th centuries: the factories and the railroads. Today, with nearly unlimited options, it can be traumatizing for a young millennial to commit to a singular occupation.

I don’t have a direct answer to this problem. It just seems like we are perpetually treading water in an ocean of possibilities. I don’t mean to be the Eeyore of my generation, solemnly shaking my head at everything I see. But as summer approaches, I want to encourage you to take one thing at a time. Make the effort to “read more” on social media. Limit the number of TV shows you start. And you know that “Lion King” coloring book you half-completed years ago? Go back and finish it. You might be surprised at how good it makes you feel. It is okay to slow down, and summer is the best time to learn how to do that. Seriously, finish that coloring book. I can’t stress that enough.

It’s been a long year. But it’s been a good year. I hope you have a blessed summer, everyone. As Pete Wentz would say, “thnks fr th mmrs.”