With the new class coming in, I wanted to share with these young darlings, these impressionable few, the new socially awkward batch of Brandeisians, my feelings on their moving in. At the same time, I will, in my fatherly way, share some advice to help them through their first year through college.Orientation leaders are scary, and not your friends.

When I moved into school, my first impression of Brandeis was far from impressive. As my father drove up to my dorm room, we were greeted by an overly excited, peppy, chubby and wound-up Brandeis orientation leader.
That totally freaked me out, and I know it freaked you freshmen out, too. The last thing I need to see when I arrive at a school where I know nobody is to already feel awkward with someone who acts like they are my friend. I felt like saying, "I am not your friend. Don't touch me!" I know you felt this way, too.
And, by the way, for those people who get overly excited about this school, what exactly do we have to be proud of? I remember on my first day seeing two people along with our mascot cheering on the fighting Judges. My parents just drove up the hill, gleefully saying, "Oh well, isn't that cute?"
It was cute, all right. All I did was imagine the possibilities of the owl being in one of those teenage movie spoofs, cheering really loudly, and then, bam!, getting hit over the head by really annoyed incoming freshmen. I chuckled for a second then. It was the first time I smiled at Brandeis. And I haven't smiled since...
The move-in experience ended in a somber moment. It was the first time my father and I hugged each other. I remember it vividly. He was crying because I was leaving and I was crying, begging him, "Please don't let me stay here. Everyone is either on drugs or belongs in an asylum!"

Never let me meet the freshmen on their first day.

I think the Orientation Leaders give off this impression of a rolling utopia, where everyone gets along, there's no awkwardness, and other loads of horse manure.
If I were an Orientation Leader, I would be frank with these people, "Listen. You need to understand something. This is Brandeis. Nothing is exactly as it should be. The frats are not real frats, and the people are not real people (after all, half of the students have been beamed down from some alien planet somewhere near Klingon). Believe me, you'll hate it here. I am not bitter. It's just the truth."
But now you know why I never was allowed to be an Orientation Leader.

Hot freshmen are scarier. I wish they were my friends.

Freshman, we upperclass guys have a confession to make: most of us, including myself, are really socially awkward. But we were even more socially awkward because we had a new phenomenon on our hands at Brandeis this past week.
The new, incoming freshman class was actually, well, good-looking. You know, they were hot. It was weird for us. We did not know how to deal with it.
For me, no matter how good-looking the girls were, I still would not have the courage to talk to one of them. I have many girl problems. Believe me, not only do you know, but so do my two psychiatrists, my social worker "friend" named Betsy, my 11-year-old campers from this past summer and, most importantly, my mother.
It's same for the rest of the Brandeis males on campus; we did not know how to quite deal with it. Some of us stared at the girls. Some of us drooled. Some of us stared at walls, in total and utter amazement. Some of us talked to ourselves. (Well, at Brandeis, talking to one's self is still a national pastime, but you get the idea. We were off-the-wall, wondering what had happened.)
It will just take some time. We need to adjust to the new Brandeis reality of beautiful girls. So while we speak to our "friends" at the Mailman Psychological Counseling Center for the last time, goodbye Bea Arthur, hello Katie Holmes!

My mom needs to accept that I'm a drug addict.

"Hoishal! How are the freshmen doing? Are they having a rough time like you did your freshman year? I remember how you cried on the phone to me, saying how you missed me. Those were the days when you loved me. Now, all you like to do, is party hard, drink, and do your drugs! What happened to the son that I raised?"
He went to Brandeis.