Imagine you are a vending machine. You have happily spent your entire life in the dark and quiet basement of an office building. You know the ins and outs of the place-what time the boss eagerly comes down to eat, which of your buttons he pushes and even which secretaries are cheating on their diets. You are fond of all of the food products that you house. But one day, some big movers with green uniforms unplug you, wrap you up, empty out all of your candy and move you a few hundred miles away to the roof of a brand-new skyscraper. They give you a whole new set of diverse candies but tell you not to worry because these new treats are here to help you. They want to make this transition as smooth as possible. They want to see you succeed. And in truth, you know this massive skyscraper has a better view and is the right place for you.

But in those first few weeks of living in your new home, all you want to see is your old boss in that basement. You don't really care about the new candies. You want your old outlet, and you miss your old bags of chips terribly. You feel pretty disoriented.

Sound familiar?

A few days ago, I calculated that I could recognize and name roughly 1,000 people including family, friends and even celebrities. And this week at "orientation," I met approximately 200 new Brandeisians. So, in effect, I attempted to stuff 20 percent more names and faces into my head in a matter of days. Can you imagine gaining 20 percent of your total weight in a few days? What about growing 20 percent taller? Unfathomable.

Yet here at Brandeis University we constantly insist on pushing our brains to the limit. We met OLs, CAs, TAs, UDRs, deans, professors, Roosevelt Fellows, academic advisers, faculty advisers, health services representatives, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author and maybe, if we were fortunate enough, some plain old, run-of-the-mill, average Joe people.

Orientation is about getting both feet firmly planted. It's about feeling completely comfortable with the people and places around you. Truth be told, I don't really think that a week is enough time to orient us to the Brandeis community. Don't get me wrong: I thought that this week was a very valuable experience. We got to know the campus, learned a few people's names, familiarized ourselves with the system and got used to our twin extra-long beds. The OLs did a superb job at making every single first-year feel as comfortable as possible. They unpacked our cars, picked us up from our rooms and lovingly shepherded us everywhere. We never felt like we didn't have a place to be-which anyone who has ever been in a brand-new environment can attest is one of the main causes of homesickness. Their "orientation" was a total success. However, no one found his niche completely. No one can really say that he has both feet firmly planted. No one was truly "oriented." But this was to be expected; we are all human.

So why is this week called "orientation?"

Brandeis Class of 2013, welcome to disorientation: the week during which your life completely changes, and you are given a new home, a new set of friends and a new day-to-day existence.

But really, sometimes disorientation is a great thing. We need to have disorienting experiences in our lives; otherwise, we would be like that vending machine, remaining with the same boring bags of chips. New settings are intimidating, but they force us to step out of our little "basements" and view the world from a new and exciting perspective.

So if I have taken away anything from this jam-packed week of lectures, lawn games and luaus, it is that all four years at Brandeis will be about orienting ourselves, not just the first week. But for now, we should be excitedly disoriented. For as the former first lady and Brandeis professor Eleanor Roosevelt once said, "You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along. You must do the thing you think you cannot do.'