One of the things I had to learn over the course of my Stanford career is that by rejecting Lufkin, I was really rejecting myself. My elitist attitude and eagerness to set myself apart said a lot more about me than it did my hometown. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t separate myself from or transcend my origins. Instead, I had to take a step back and think about what the town meant to me: what gifts it gave me, what experiences it left me with, and the people that helped me out along the way. That’s a process that doesn’t happen overnight, and will never quite be finished.
In honor of my six years on campus and the recent news on CAPS and mental health policy, we’ll be taking a look at six things I can’t believe Stanford still hasn’t fixed since my freshman year.
For me, though, this start of the new quarter represents the dawn of year six, and brings to my mind the 1993 film Groundhog Day.