“How did you get into Cornell?” Outwardly I laugh and shrug, but inside I die a little. After I received my acceptance letter in November, the pressure was on to avoid doing anything appearing mildly stupid. The thing is, that’s who I am. Unless I’m cracking the books, I am an eccentric conglomeration of Moe, Larry and Curly. And the incessant clamoring of “Big Cornell” or “Ivy Guy” when I spoke up in class or even passed a friend in the hallway seemed to preclude me from acting in that manner.