During my first month as a Duke senior, I realized there is no imaginable scenario in which I might meet new people. Over the three short years I've been here my circle of friends has crystallized, and I can't imagine how it might grow.
From that point of view, I somewhat envy you freshmen-still so wide open, still feeling out new people, still uncertain where you'll finally end up. The nice thing about the universal uneasiness of freshman year, in which you are essentially forced to make friends, is that you do actually make new friends.
I just don't have to exert all that effort anymore. I've got enough buddies, I've got a girl, I've got coursework, a thesis and the job hunt. I'm busy, I'm fat, I'm content.
And yet there's a driving impulse to be with people. Tuesday night at Charlie's is a constant temptation, as is Thursday at Satisfaction, because I know there will be tons of people I'll probably recognize there.
I will rarely stay anywhere for very long unless the place is hopping. And yet, when it is busy, I sit there amidst a swarm of people and just keep talking to the same few friends with whom I arrived. I'll probably even complain about how hard it is to hear over the crowd. So why leave the house?
My life at Duke is pretty cut off from the heart of the school. Part of it is the fractured way my career here progressed: a year on East, a year on West, a semester abroad, a semester on Central and now a year off-campus.
After my first two years, I was marginalized to the part of Duke no campus tour would ever pass. And more importantly, without any real continuity of living situation, there were few obvious opportunities to make friends. So, I simply kept the few friends who had lived around me for my first years at Duke.
And now, living off-campus at Duke isn't exactly like living off-campus at a big state school; though I'm only a few blocks from East, I'm not surrounded by other students. My housemates and I seem to exist in our own discrete little pod.
I suppose the far-flung, progressively dismembered nature of student life at Duke is a natural trade-off: as the bonds of friendship develop, there is just less time to connect with those who exist outside our immediate circle.
And yet, I feel the need to be with my fellow Dukies in mass. It might just be my desire to people-watch, or it might be something more primal, but all I know is that I go looking for large gatherings of my fellow students, and there are too few good opportunities to revel with my peers.
In the spring it's easy to find outlets. For example, last spring there were several big events: K-ville and the basketball season, those semiformals in the library and the Gardens and Last Day of Classes. In the fall, there are few equivalent events. My basic need goes pretty much unfulfilled.
If you have been following my column at all, you might notice a running theme: Whenever I feel something, I assume everyone else must feel it too, to some degree. Thus, I am certain that we all instinctively feel the need to be rambunctious together. It is a need bred in Cameron from freshman year on, and it goes undernourished all Fall.
Our desire to be ridiculous together, whether in Cameron or in the Blue Zone, is the defining aspect of Duke's social life. It explains why we have ripped down goal posts on two of our last three football wins, despite their essential meaninglessness, and why our football team's failings are so tragic. We just need more channels to vent together in the fall.
The one outlet we have had since my Duke career began, Tailgate, is already on the endangered list: not only are we playing seven road games and four home games (a logical setup considering how much more money other schools make from their home games than we do), but one of our home games is scheduled for Fall Break, when the gathering of huge numbers of students seems unlikely.
So, barring Tailgate's extinction, we have Homecoming and Georgia Tech almost a month later at which we can be crazy. That's pretty lackluster, compared to the myriad events in the spring.
With only two such events, it's no surprise Tailgate gets out of control.
Jordan Everson is a Trinity senior. His column runs every Wednesday.
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