"Happy Birthday, hon! See you in three months!" I had never expected to hear those words in the same breath. But there I was, standing in front of the C-entryway of Wigglesworth Hall, waving as my parents walked away.

It was my 18th birthday.

If I had thought about the situation logically, I could have figured out that with a birthday in early September, I was fated to leave my parents on or about my birthday. But my first year at Harvard was never about logical expectations. And perhaps that was what made it the year it was.

Coming from a quiet, structured family life to a wonderfully unstructured and often loud college life, my first weeks at Harvard were a time of frenetic activity, rushing from the intro meeting of the South Asian Association (SAA) to the first rehearsal of the Toscanini Chamber Orchestra, shopping about 10 classes (it took me about three tries just to find Harvard Hall, no small building), and trying to meet as many people as possible only to realize I had forgotten their names only half an hour later--just as they probably had forgotten mine.

Thinking about the situation logically, I expected that I would continue to play the cello a few times a week as I had done for the past thirteen years of my life, and that I would continue to ignore my ethnic community--my family would provide me with all the "ethnicity" I needed.

But as a rising junior, I now serve on the board of the SAA, and I haven't played my cello in over a year. Even more oddly, I now take photographs and write occasionally for The Harvard Crimson. So, things haven't turned out logically. But I tried a lot of new things my first year, and some of them I liked more than others. It was the best time to try new things, from a new hairstyle (I let my hair grow long) to a new activity (The Crimson) to a new way of taking notes (this is too boring to mention in more detail).

Some were successful--I'm still writing for the Crimson--and some weren't: my first Chem 5 midterm reflected my lackluster study habits. Which brings me to my first piece of advice: Use your first year to try it all. Sign up for 800 organizations. Meet as many people as you can. By the end of the first month, you'll end up figuring out what you want.

If your first impulse is to hit "delete" when an e-mail from some random student organization that you signed up for shows up in your inbox, then maybe that wasn't an organization you really wanted to devote time to. As your inbox grows, you'll be forced to sort out your life just as you sort your never-ending e-mail.

But against this background of experiments, keep a few things constant. I was lucky in that my first year at Harvard was a year of things falling into place, however unlikely they may have seemed. I was blessed with two of the best roommates one could ever hope to have. Early in the year, Dana, Erin, and I were having dinner in Annenberg, just the three of us amidst the waves of first years surrounding us. We were all tired, and after a long silence, "It's so nice that we are comfortable enough with each other that we don't really have to talk to each other for the sake of making conversation." Erin and I nodded, and we finished our meal without another word. relaxed and content.

It was one of very few quiet moments of my first year, which brings me to my second piece of advice: treasure those moments of quiet contentment. I don't think I can remember all the times I laughed and yelled and partied during that year, but I can count those quiet moments on one hand. They provided something to hold onto--just as Dana and Erin had given me their friendship to hold onto--as classes and meetings and sections and rehearsals seemed to swirl around me.

Through those moments, I learned that I could rely on my friends. I know that Dana is bound to have an extra Diet Pepsi in the fridge and that Erin's computer is probably on if I want to check my email quickly. But I relied on them for more than that. I spent the beginning of first-year parents weekend feeling sorry for myself because my family was still in California until I was taken in by Dana and Erin's parents.

In so many ways, the two of them, along with my other close friends from my first year--Roz, Vani, Hema, and Katie--gave me a family away from home, which brings me to my final piece of advice: find a home for yourself at Harvard. It can be a room, a group of friends, a favorite spot in the Yard. For some of my friends it has been the Law School Library, for others it has been 14 Plympton (The Crimson), for still others, it has been the Grille. For me, it has been the company of my blockmates. But once you find a space (whether imagined or physical) in which you feel comfortable, you'll be even more ready to take on the swirl of activities, parties, late nights and learning experiences (such as writing a paper in the four hours before it is due, not a learning experience I recommend) that your first year should be. My first year was nothing like the one I predicted through my logical expectations, but the year's experience left me with a home at school which was more than I ever expected.

--Aparan Sridhar '01 is the associate photography chair of The Crimson