Fancy Latin phrase here!

The last 24 hours and the next 24 hours will together constitute the most awkward 48 hours of your life thus far. This is assuming you are not engaged and have not met your in-laws. Then again, maybe you will inadvertently meet them today. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Unless you hail from Jersey or Exeter, chances are you do not know a(n underage) soul on campus. Well, maybe one other person from the general geographic vicinity from whence you came. But you don't even like her. If you are one of the lucky few who arrived with a small entourage of fellow freshmen from your school or district, chances are you've banded together like an oboe section and move as one many-footed caterpillar to every orientation event, plus meals and sometimes the bathroom. And you don't even like them.

The point is, it's awkward. Sometimes insincere. And this is just the surface condition. Inside, you are a swirling torrent of homesickness, loneliness, fear and indigestion. The Instantly Loveable Socialite in you is MIA.

You are constantly being blindly introduced to well-meaning FACs and assorted upperclassmen, who are this compassionate, horribly unhelpful presence. They keep welcoming you and reassuring you that everybody feels as lost as you look. The problem is, the words of the already well-adjusted fall on deaf ears. Everybody understands, but nobody understands. You don't want empathy. You want a best friend. Right now. Just for a while, even, until you find a more suitable candidate, at debate tryouts or during a secret dorm-wide pregame.

But don't hang all your hopes on a Solo cup. This is classic upperclassmen advice, and it comes in only one flavor: preachy. Hear ye, East Campus is a dry campus. And Brown is, like, actually dry (even tour guides find it awkward explaining this dualistic concept to prospective parents). Not to mention, underage drinking is passé. All right, you may not believe that. But believe this: Unless you are one of the few people on this earth who are smarter and more attractive when your limbs lose touch with your central nervous system, getting smashed this weekend is a bad, bad move, even if your parents have left town. You will impress nobody. And if you are anything like your fellow 1,700 freshman, you were too busy being smart in high school to learn the subtleties of how much is too much. So don't pose. Ending up in the ER today is less than desirable.

You are scared because you suspect that the decisions you make now (to drink or not to drink?), the crowd you fall into now (wild? chill? jock? ethnic?) and the grades you make now (OK, so mentally you're not there yet) may determine the course of the rest of your college career. You are a freshman, and you have a flare for drama.

Yes, you stand on a precipice. But go ahead. Fall off. A pool of inflatable plastic balls, the kind patented by the McDonald's playpen, has been set up beneath you. Take reasonable precaution when it comes to what you consume and ingest these next few months, but aside from (1) no-brainer physical maintenance, (2) take some risks. If you find out your friends this month are not the sort to stick with you in the long haul, so be it; scout around and (3) talk to someone random in the commons or at the Marketplace. No, you have not lost your chance-anyone worth befriending will be as open to your hi and hello next month or next year as they are the first week. (4) Really believe that, because it is a Golden Truth.

And when some(inevitable)thing threatens to trump your sense of fun, consider the mayfly: certain species live up to a year in larvae state but survive less than a day following the onset of maturity.