As a senior, I’ve been finding it difficult to escape the feeling that every time I do something it’s “the last time I do it.” It was the last o-week, the last homecoming, and now, it’s the last night we can get away with wearing lingerie as outerwear. The pressure’s on to make every second count, to have the most fun we’ve ever had and to make this last Halloween the best Halloween. So, as my roommates and I discussed our costume plans on our way to Tasti-D-Lite, I wasn’t surprised that all of us seemed to be trying extra hard to come up with something as cool as our fro-yo. Despite our efforts, though, it seemed that idea after idea was being rejected on the basis of creativity, originality and, of course, the requisite slut factor. As I glanced around at the pensive looks on my friends’ faces, I was beginning to suspect that our desire to have the best costume wasn’t just due to our imminent graduation.

It seemed to me that my friends and I weren’t just trying to think of a great idea, but, also, an idea that would be undeniably the best. In fact, when I thought about it, we’d always made an effort to come up with the best possible costume idea. And as I reflected on the parties through the years full of people wearing outfits representing the cleverest of puns, or dressed as timely pop culture references, or sporting ensembles more expensive than anything they’d wear on any other day, I realized that we weren’t the only ones on this campus putting some significant effort into standing out on Halloween.

It shouldn’t have come as such a revelation, either, because, let‘s face it: this competitive mentality isn’t exactly limited to our choices of Halloween apparel. Cornell students are secretive about their grades and scores, we’re reluctant to share notes with our classmates and we wake up at the crack of dawn for CoursEnroll in order beat everyone else to enrollment for our courses. And don’t even try to attribute it to having some incredible academic aspirations because the first classes to fill up are always courses like Wines and Magical Mushrooms (read: Drinking 101 and Intro to Shrooms. )

I suppose it comes with the territory of going to a school full of overachievers, and believe me I am in no way excluding myself from this probably over-generalized observation, but even I can’t help but laugh when I’ll hear someone say they aren’t studying, and then I’ll spot them in the Cocktail Lounge with their eyes glued to the page of an unrequired, “recommended” reading. This kind of behavior seems almost inevitable at a school that admits applicants with such high SAT scores, GPAs, and, of course, e-board positions of their high school’s Key Club (whatever that is). But, though we may prefer to think of Cornell as one happy frozen family, we didn’t exactly put our competitive attitudes aside when we got our acceptance letters.

Now, I’m not condemning competitiveness altogether. I actually think that our collective drive to succeed is a major part of what makes Cornell students special. At the end of the day, we do very well in the real world in terms of getting jobs and admission to grad school and that is in no small part due to our competitive efforts in our studies in college. And, personally, I feel that our experience in such a competitive environment probably better prepares us for the realities of the current world that may just be a little harsher than the curve of your Finance Prelim. This competitiveness does present a problem, however, when it creeps into our social and personal lives.

Halloween, for example, is supposed to be a time for us to let loose. It’s supposed to be a night where you can wear whatever — or as little — as you want without judgment. Instead, like everything else we do at Cornell, it has turned into yet another opportunity for us to ‘excel.’ Just what we needed! Even a night where we are all supposed to just be partying together involves competition between students over the best costumes, sororities over the cleverest group outfits, and even fraternities over throwing the best party.

But, we aren’t being graded on our Halloween costumes, and there’s no reason for us to be competing with each other socially. It’s not a bad thing to set high goals for yourself; it’s healthy even. But we can’t let those goals keep us from enjoying our friendships and the experiences that make college “the greatest four years of our lives.” We need to be able to separate our professional lives from our social lives. Personally, my goal is to enjoy my last Cornell Halloween wearing a costume I love. And even if it’s not the best one on this campus, as long as I have fun, it’s still a win in my book.

Nikki Nussbaum is a senior in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. She may be contacted at nnussbaum@cornellsun.com.Cornell Unzipped appears alternate Tuesdays this semester.