Pearls of Wisdom: The first ride on the merry-go-round

In case you haven’t heard it loud and clear enough in the past 24 hours: welcome to Stanford.

From the red-and-white banner at the end of Palm Drive (considering its prominence and how much use it has gotten over the years, you’d think the administration would spring for an accurate, cardinal-colored one) to the happy-go-lucky HoHos, RoHos and Admit Weekend coordinators, the friendly greetings on this campus abound like caterpillars and bicycles.

If you choose to stick around as I have for the past seven years (parents, don’t be alarmed: like most of my friends, I graduated in four years. The ones who didn’t are, as in the case of a certain Mr. John Steinbeck, doing quite well for themselves without an official degree. Not that your little Johnny or Sue will throw caution and $120,000 to the wind to pursue an incredibly promising, not to mention stable, artistic career. But I digress. The point: I’m now a grad student), the coming days will offer numerous encounters with certain elements of the Stanford experience that, much like the welcome messages and caterpillars, will recur time and again throughout your years here.

1. Too much to do, not enough time.

I have not bothered to look at the Admit Weekend website (back in my day, which would be the year AD 2000, we just had paper pamphlets), but I am quite certain that your options for the weekend will be no less overwhelming than mine were. From classes to panels to activities, the choices are endless. And most of them, with the possible exception of that 9 a.m. lecture, probably look incredibly appealing.

The reality, of course, is that you can’t do it all — and not just because many of them happen at the same time. You’re smart, so you already know there are only 24 hours in a day; if, however, you’re like me, it will take you at least the next four years to learn that energy is also a limiting factor. Pay attention to how many consecutive hours you sleep when you get home from this weekend. You can only last for so long on five hours of sleep and constant stimulation.

2. Amazing people.

During my first 48 hours on campus, I crossed paths with Mike McDonald and Casey Jacobsen (basketball players whose names probably mean nothing to you — trust me, young’un, they were noteworthy back in the day), Amboy Kelso (another throw-back. Although the band no longer exists, two of the musicians are currently working independently in LA), and Chelsea Clinton (I am going to make myself feel better by NOT identifying this one. I don’t care that you were roughly three years old when her father was elected the first time).

Famous personalities aside, there are a lot of incredible people around here. For the next four years, they will live next door and across campus and, though you will later wonder how you ever shared so little space with another human being, in the same room as you.

As with the classes and activities discussed above, living amongst 6500 overachievers can get pretty overwhelming, especially when you’re comparing their Facebook profiles to your internal emotional experience. At some point in time, most everyone believes he or she was mistakenly admitted (and I, for one, spent as little time as possible with those whose confidence/arrogance never faltered — trust me, there are more than a few of those, too). I now know multiple people who work for the Office of Undergrad Admissions, and I think I’ve been here long enough to say they don’t make mistakes.

3. Ambiguous sexual interactions.

Despite the general awesomeness of the people on this campus, there is one area in which we tend not to excel.

I’ve written entire columns on this issue (see “Smart, Cute, and Unavailable” for recent observations), so, rather than use my precious word limit to repeat myself, I will simply say this: contrary to its vast appearance, this is a small campus. If you hook up with a fellow admit this weekend, he or she will undoubtedly end up in your freshman dorm.

Please, please do not fall prey to an upperclassman. And, if you must, steer clear of the large houses on Mayfield Row. Supposedly, they are all off on retreats this weekend, but that didn’t stop me from spending two evenings with some soccer-playing members of SAE.

Bottom line: for all of the drama, very few are ready to be in real romantic relationships during their time at Stanford (and I believe this is the same at most comparable schools across the country). Now, three years after graduation, the relationship-ready are currently married and/or engaged; the rest of us are only beginning to get serious about our commitments to people other than ourselves. From my class, the former population numbers roughly 30 out of 1725. You do the math. And, unless you’re one of the latter, prepare yourself for a bumpy four-year ride on the emotional roller coaster of “less-than-serious, more-than-friends.” As with the rest of your Stanford experience, there will be crazy highs and depressing lows, and it will all be over in the blink of an eye. For now, though, sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. Oh, and welcome to Stanford.

Lisa Mendelman is a Master’s candidate in English. Email her at lisame@stanford.edu.