Looking back to the time when I first considered applying to Stanford, I'm amazed at how far my expectations were from reality.

For one thing, I had always thought Stanford was perched on an emerald-green cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Imagine Half Moon Bay, and then plop Stanford down on the edge of it. Ah, yes. I was sure it would look like that. But when I got around to visiting Stanford's campus, my hopes were dashed liked a blue Pacific breaker against my beloved but completely imaginary cliffs.

I was also obsessed with the Stanford Linear Accelerator, which played a not insignificant role in my decision to apply.

"At two miles long, it's the largest linear accelerator in the world!" I would tell my friends over fried Chicken-O's in my high school cafeteria. Though I knew even back then that I would be a humanities major, I daydreamed about taking "Physics 740: The Hunt for the Higgs Boson" to fulfill my science requirement. It would meet once a week at the accelerator and feature colorful explosions, which I would record with painstaking accuracy in a graphing-paper notebook. I had no idea that there was such things as prerequisites<\p>--<\p>I figured I could bring myself up to speed on any topic in about a week.

The list goes on. Sitting beneath a hundred-foot-tall California Redwood and munching on an avocado, I would converse with my new friends in our third language: would it be Russian, Italian, or perhaps an obscure Asian dialect? Only time would tell! Also, I liked the idea that there would be a lot of Olympic-caliber athletes around, which would limit the nerd-factor and keep the party-train rolling. The way I imagined it, college students<\p>--<\p>athletes and non-athletes alike<\p>--<\p>would function perfectly well on four hours of sleep a night.

At each progressive stage of my Stanford career, my expectations have ceded a little more ground to reality. But new and equally far-fetched expectations always form on the horizon. Earlier this year, I had the whimsical idea of writing a thesis as part of my co-terminal master's program, even though I had done approximately zero research and didn't have a topic. No matter, two quarters is plenty of time to throw something together!

And, so, after five years at this place, I am forced to admit that I still don't know what Stanford is really about, that I keep trading one set of unreasonable ideas for another. This thought has been a consolation to me as I consider, with fear and trembling, what post-graduation will be like.

Fortunately, at least one of my cherished fantasies has come true. When I was applying to Stanford, I dreamed of being an award-winning reporter for The Stanford Daily, working myself up to Editor in Chief, and then easing into a leisurely retirement by writing a weekly column.

One of those three things has happened. Guess which one.

Of course, in my fantasy, I would be typing these words of valediction while seated on a campus bench overlooking the Pacific Ocean, the smell of salt in the air. But all I can smell right now is the slight tang of vinegar wafting from the kitchen of my too-small apartment, which hasn't been cleaned in weeks. As they say, "Love the one you're with."

And so I can offer no truer words of gratitude than to say: It's been real. Thanks for reading.