Dear First-Years ...

If you're a little scared right now, that's OK. I know that most of what they tell you to expect about your first year seems a little dramatic and apocalyptic-not to mention what you've been told about the big scary city and its big scary transportation system. I'm more of a believer in the more positive, albeit more cliché words of wisdom, if only because they don't get enough credit. But I'm having a bit of trouble leaving my freshman year behind, especially since it became comfortable and enjoyable to write about, and in my transition into trying out the New York column beat, I'm taking on those awful ultimatum-like warnings everyone gives you when you transition into college. Since I'm sort of bitter that I didn't get to contribute anything to the Orientation issue of the Spectator, I'm writing about those warnings here. As self-prescribed therapy, I'm going to do this one last time, and then I'm moving on. I promise.
To begin with, they say that nothing could possibly have prepared you for what you're about to experience. This is wrong. Everything you have ever experienced, like every book you have already read or every fight you've had with a friend, has prepared you for your life right now, and you just happen to be living it at Columbia. You might not be ready for the intensity, but why should you be? That turns out to be the best part. Just because the books have bigger words or the fights have more awkwardness since your friend lives next door doesn't mean that you can't handle it. And when you end up 70 blocks away from Columbia because you missed your subway stop and it suddenly went express-just like everyone said it would happen-don't freak out. Turn around and take the downtown train. An extra $2 is not that scary.
Then everyone tells you to enjoy your freedom while it lasts, because you're never going to have such an easy workload ever again. I'm pretty sure this one's accurate, but who cares? Whenever your upperclassmen friends throw this one at you, don't dread the future or feel guilt-instead, gain perspective from it and don't dwell. It'll help when you're struggling to get through the Inferno in time, because at the same moment I'll be struggling to get through The Quran, some Faulkner, and another work by Augustine.
My least favorite is when they tell you that the great friends you make your first year will not end up being the great friends you have senior year. They warn you your dorm life will never be like John Jay or Carman ever again, so don't, like, think that you're ever going to get as lucky again. I find this one to be the most confusing because it establishes too many doubts once your freshman year ends. Should you have gone on other floors to make friends? Are you going to be missing out on the best roommate because you're living with the same guys that were across the hall all year long? Should you keep in touch with your first-year floormates? Honestly, this is your call, but the outcome is not really in your hands. I now live in an eight person suite with six friends who were either next door neighbors or neighbors of my next door neighbors. I think it might turn out to be one of the best years of my life, and I hope these are the friends whose weddings and 50th birthday parties I go to. But you really never know.
The last time I tried to write about how to enjoy New York, I failed miserably, so I'll leave it up to you to dispel the myths about the big city. Just remember that it's easy to fall into the trap of going to the places you think you're expected to be at right away, be it Central Park West or Carman or Butler or hipster clubs in the Village. Even The West End. I went to my first frat party last night, I went to the Philharmonic at Lincoln Center on the second week of freshman year, and I still have never been to Brooklyn. Trust me, you've got time.
Regardless, everyone always thinks that his advice is valuable and that her personal story will mean something to you. This is also false. Forget everything I just said, because I know you'll find your own way, and love it. Now go meet someone new. Or catch up on the Iliad reading you didn't do this summer. Or don't.