Brandeis was named the "back-up" university. My jaw made a cracking sound - as it normally does when it dramatically drops in a moment of shock -- that could be heard from where I sat to Boston.It just seemed an impossibility: Brandeis the "back-up" university. Despite a 94 percent retention rate according to the Princeton Review, Brandeis somehow sneaks into the bottom of some students' undesired-but-applied-to universities list.

It was my first week at Brandeis, and I was savoring the reality of the day: I was studying at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Boston was my not-too-distant neighbor, intellects of every nature served as my siblings, brilliant professors performed as my caretakers - my new home was nearly a utopia.

Then I saw a freshman wearing a Brown University sweatshirt.

A curious and unscrupulous sentiment swept away coyness. I asked my fellow freshman why she was embracing another university's pride. A bitter, brutal response was received: "I didn't choose to attend Brandeis - it was just my back-up." The student apparently didn't like Brandeis at all, and was only here because of a rejection from Brown.

My naave psyche had assumed that each Brandeis student would wear Brandeis apparel as ecstatically as I did. I also had assumed that any student paying $27,344 in tuition for a top-tier education wouldn't do so indignantly.

Since that disturbing day, I've fumbled upon severe cases of anti-Brandeisians and numerous peers who raid the bookstore clothing racks like Tasmanian devils. Of course, these are the two extremes of the university-pride spectrum. Although I wish the former didn't exist, it does. But that doesn't mean it should be tolerated.

Rejection from Ivy League or other schools that a student may deem "better" than Brandeis shouldn't provide justification for a sullen school spirit. I'm not asking that all students exude egotism because they attend Brandeis; I'm suggesting that students find satisfaction in their Brandeis home instead of retreating to a resentful resort.

Possessing a dissatisfied attitude is detrimental to the self; if Brandeis wasn't number one on Brown sweatshirt girl's university list, reminding herself that she wants to be somewhere else isn't going to help. For the next three years, she'll be walking around in her Brown shirt feeling as though she's stuck in a woeful world - a world that isn't Brown. Maybe giving Brandeis a chance would work. Having a constant pessimistic perception of Brandeis isn't going to improve her condition of life. Pessimism will only act as a self-destructive tool, expanding the duration of life at Brandeis and life in general.

Perhaps these anti-Brandeisians can be converted to bookstore Tasmanian devils - or, at least, not advocates of other universities.

If not for themselves, the anti-Brandeisians should at least consider converting for the sake of others. For instance, I know many students who were adamant that Brandeis was their first choice. And I know many students who preferred another university, but came here instead and found themselves smiling when mentioning rejection from their first choice. It's insulting when I hear someone, someone who is part of my Brandeis home, make caustic remarks about having been forced to attend this university.

Honestly, if I hated a university as much as some people claim they hate Brandeis, I wouldn't be there. If someone perceives a place as a type of purgatory, I have no idea how he can be forced to attend.

Furthermore, it's not as if Brandeis is a measly, disregarded university. It is number 31 in the America's Best Colleges 2003 ranking in U.S News and World Report.

To the anti-Brandeisians: If conversion isn't chosen, enjoy purgatory. Brandeis is certainly still my utopia.