Don't approach life in fear

Recent reports have indicated that New Yorkers are turning to sex in this time of need. Downtown clubs and uptown bars are packed, and one-night couplings are dotting the city's grided landscape. When asked about a recent one-night stand, a New York investor told the Times, "She was my wartime liaison." Welcome back to America, where sex fixes everything.

Down South at Duke, similar symptoms are emerging. It's harder to spot a new surge on closeness when "hooking up" is the norm, but it's here nonetheless. Three of my usually prudent friends have recently slipped on their Steve Maddens and made the walk of shame. A friend took rare initiative and asked out her boy of choice. As for me, I'm starting to strengthen vague friendships and loosen old enemies. I've even begun the slow and painful process of reconciling with the person who's hurt me most. While I'm angry a state of emergency has been the catalyst of my social life, it would be unrealistic to pretend that how we come together hasn't changed. We can mourn our old oblivion, or we can take a few breaths and see a few changes. Either way, we must admit, there is no such thing as "business as usual" anymore.

Never was this more evident than in a recent phone call. One of my girls had been on the prowl for several weeks, hunting down her particular prey of choice. Last Thursday, she actually got him, and after two days of triumph, my phone rang. "What am I doing?!" She screeched over fuzzy reception. "My life is pointless!" That pointless point is a familiar stage for many women in college. A friend told me last week that there comes a time in every Duke girl's career when she starts to rethink her "extracurricular activities." Hooking up transforms from empowering to demeaning. These past few weeks have been frustrating, as many of us battle a delicate balance: much-needed closeness versus exhausting, scattered perspective. Glued to our televisions and numbed by the news, many of us are craving simple, sweet human contact. How to fix that urge in the midst of swirling emotions and incredible uncertainty is a new challenge for most. Never have I felt so far away from anyone else, and never have I needed to be closer.

I hate that everything's different. I've been sleeping more, crying more and questioning more. I am finally beginning to feel that "rage" that politicians say is simmering across America. The annoyance of being played by a boy has become outrage, and I hear myself saying, "We have so little time; why can't you just be honest with me?" My month-long crush suddenly becomes urgent, not fun, as I vent, "Why am I wasting my time?" Time is a big thing now. It's like I have an egg timer in the back of my head, and I'm waiting for it to somehow explode.

We had a fire drill in my dorm last night. My area coordinator saw the steam (caused from a zealous water heater, not even real smoke) and cried out, "Don't breathe it in; it could be Anthrax!" Paranoia, paranoia, everybody's coming to get you. As I anxiously cry over my fall break flights, I know it's safer to be in the air than in a car. Christine Morris, undergraduate dean of theater studies, tells her students, "Give yourself a secret sigh of relief." Allow me to pass that advice on to you, gently reader. Breathe in, deeply (and no, you will not be inhaling Anthrax).

MTV is airing a new commercial, and it goes something like this: "Now is the time to be more than clever. Now is the time to feel more than rage. Now is the time to remember you are still here. You are the future." Forget about the "business as usual." Remember "business as you." Live your life. Hook up with someone. Quit hooking up with people. Settle old grudges. Find new friends. Get your balance. Forget about exploding egg timers, because they're not going to blow up (and neither are you). Buy a new pair of heels. If you're reading this, then you are still here. You are the future. Get out there and start building it.

Faran Krentcil is a Trinity junior and trends editor of Recess.