You Are Where You Live

Freshmen, today is a day of hope. Of possibility. Of enlightenment. Of hope (We’re serious, you might get Dunster). This morning, no doubt, you were up at dawn awaiting the envelope to be slid under your door. Your unwavering dedication kept you up after last night’s river run despite the fact that you have a paper due today. (Don’t worry. Expos only gives Bs.) Perhaps you were sleeping—a bad move since you can’t hope while you sleep. But today is the day that will forever change your lif…ving conditions.

Housing Day is a relatively new custom, but that shouldn’t prevent you from sending your entire family the official “Housing Day Est. 1995” keychain. Housing day is upperclass life at its best—24 hours entirely devoted to bragging rights, displays of pride, latin mottos, and face painting. Head over to Annenberg; if you’re quadded, enjoy it and take pictures of all your friends who are in the gulag—er, Mather. Next year, you’ll need them for your candlelight vigil once they disappear off the face of the earth.

At most colleges the person that you ultimately are shaped into is determined through long bouts of reflection and tempering the inner metal of your being in the fire of self-doubt. Luckily, Harvard spares you this. Instead, who you are is determined by an algorithm run by a multibillion-dollar institution. Because, in case you haven’t noticed yet, your house is your life.

Admitted to Adams? Buy a beret, get out your finger paint, and borrow those dining hall utensils (You can get into the servery now!) In Dunster? Your future is the bright red of a solo cup. By the time that you leave Eliot, you’ll know just how good a popped collar can look—your House, according to the acclaimed news source Wikipedia, is “a ‘prep’ house, providing accommodation to the socially elite.”

In Kirkland, you’ll learn to love DHAs, tailgaters with thirty-racks, and lacrosse players with six packs. In Leverett, you’ll learn to love physics concentrators without six packs. And monkeybread, lots of monkeybread. But then again, so will everyone else.

Housed in Lowell? In your single-turned-triple, you and your roommates can sit and discuss lattice theory, Faulkner, and the ancient exquisite art of combating cockroaches with boric acid. In Mather, you’ll have a spacious single, in which you can gather your hordes of new friends and plan a revolution. If you’re in Quincy, prepare to fight next year’s freshmen for “golden nuggets” and “Hemp Plus” (though for even better “Hemp Plus,” head to the Dudley Co-Op). That is, if you haven’t had an epileptic seizure from the “mood lights.” If you’re in Winthrop, just think of it as an annex of Eliot. This will lessen your confusion and increase your self-esteem. You can even attend their stein clubs on Thursdays.

And if you’re housed in Pfoho-Currier-Cabot? Good luck figuring out which is which. We know we’ve been out there once, but don’t really remember the details. Legend has it the Quad is a suburban utopia, where you’ll get used to cozy winter firesides, flowers in the spring, and blossoming romance in all seasons. We would check it out, but don’t have the five bucks for a cab.

Freshmen, your future—whether in the form of a fist of arrows, three bunnies, or a tree—awaits. Run to your new house and meet some upperclassmen! Fate has spoken; all that’s left is for you to get in touch with your inner artist, your inner jock, or the piece of the Radcliffe Quadrangle that’s in us all.