I have had enough hearing of “war” and “retaliation.” “War” was spoken at least ten times on Tom Brokaw’s Nightly News, ‘till I stopped caring and lost count. “War” is the impending doom in the crisis America has been submerged in for weeks, and it is what we’ll have to face in this decade.

Between looking at the 15-plus editorials thrown at my lap in Political Institute and flipping the news channels, I sense that “war” is what America is about these days; it feels like we’ve braced ourselves for war for more than a year now, just waiting. After all, haven’t we tightened our security? Haven’t the missing people escalated?

After the President’s winding speeches, after the threats catapulted toward the Taliban by the U.S. and renewed partnerships with countries on our side, there is still a heaviness on my shoulders I’d very much like to brush off and then in relief, sigh and say, “it’s over.”

No. That golden sun isn’t going to emerge in the horizon for awhile. Over a period of weeks, only 300-plus bodies have been recovered. The CIA is constantly on new leads: a maze of twists and turns—black holes in the not-so-concrete history behind the attacks. This “new” kind of war hasn’t been defined yet.

I am still confused and helpless. I am not indifferent toward war—of course, the current developments, the obstacles, America’s strength—are forever embedded in my mind. Sitting in front of my computer, typing this editorial only a few will read, researching the confrontation of war with Afghanistan—these are the only ways I feel I can help. I can join Key Club and participate in the Country Fair, selling patriotic candles, and join Community Service Club to collect donations as well, comfort the grieving, help charitable funds, go shopping to help stabilize our faltering economy, etc.

No doubt, I commend these clubs and Student Council for extending a comforting hand. But don’t we all feel helpless? We are not police officers, firefighters, Red Cross workers, or government officials. We are Metuchen suburbanites, patriotic to an extreme degree, and to a certain point, loyal and united.

We discuss the issues in Political Institute every day. Some students sit and listen to the never-ending debate, sure that leaping into the discussion will end in a diabolical struggle, since there is no conclusive, black-and-white answer to retaliation. Some contend for the quick and easy, rapid solution, “Let’s just bomb the whole freaking country and kick their asses.” Wouldn’t we love to say to the terrorists who performed such atrocities, “Take this” and wipe out their financial district and military base, so they know that we do not frivolously sit down at war?

While I admit I am one to gleefully smirk in those long-bearded, gun-towing mens’ faces if we attack them, Mr. Robbins brings up a good point. An intelligent one. His comment reminds us to stop being ignorant and start thinking diplomatically. As he lectures, my dreams of Afghanistan blowing up go down the drain. Suddenly, it gets so complicated.

There is not much of Afghanistan to blow up. Take away their economic wealth? What wealth, when the citizens of Afghanistan are slaves to the Taliban? What television? What media? What food and clothing can we disrupt in a country where necessities are sparse?

Shouldn’t we feel bad about bombing a country where women cannot be seen in public with a small gape of flesh exposed, their identities caught in their gauze like wardrobe, their eyes exposed but still withdrawn? Besides, we’re not the only ones scared. Afghanistan citizens have a reason to be, too.

Even so, I’ve got the impulse to throw apple cores at the people who did this, spit at their faces, do more harm than they please and exhaust myself of my inner hate—the ones who mocked our American flag in a terrorist attempt to “purify the world of unclean things.” I think I’m not the only one who’d relish revenge.

But we must fight our irrational impulses and think diplomatically, rapidly and honestly. Let’s not reduce ourselves to their level. The terrorists died in the name of their God and in the name of their religion. They plunged to the greater depths of their paradise, according to their God, a paradise where nude virgins are waiting peacefully for them.

An excerpt from a four-page document used by the hijackers read, “If you slaughter, do not cause the discomfort of those you are killing, because this is one of the practices of the prophet, peace be upon him.” Their hybrid of violence makes me sick. I hope our method of retaliation does not kill as many innocent and wounded as the victims of September 11.

Thinking of it, the complexities of war suddenly scare me. I’ve got no answers, no outrageously brilliant solution. I can publicly rant and rage about war in my school’s newspaper. I can comfort other people in their grief. I can keep to date about developing foreign issues. I can sit in front of the television, try to understand and listen, nod my head and wave my American flag…then wait for what is to come.

My 77-year-old grandmother sat in front of the television and thought, “I never thought I would live to see America attacked twice during my lifetime.” She lived through the attack on Pearl Harbor and did not need to see her beloved country attacked once, let alone twice. She’d immigrated to America, away from the horrors of Europe.

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, at 8:48 a.m., America was attacked three times, the most devastating blow being the one to the World Trade Center. A country my grandmother and others thought was invincible had been hurt again.

Everyone suffered some sort of loss— directly, with the loss of a parent, spouse or sibling, or indirectly, with the loss of a friend or a friend’s friend. America has been made vulnerable by the senseless acts. Terrorists pierced our lives.

People bond during times of crisis, as do nations. Most Americans have a flag on their house, wear one on their shirt or both. Every store is sold out of flags. It is amazing that this catastrophic event was intended to tear us apart, but instead, we have come together.

My grandmother never thought she would ever see America attacked twice, but she never thought she would see such unity either.

America has the greatest standing army on earth. An American infantry soldier has at his disposal unmatched air support, artillery cover, and naval barrages. In the entire history of standing armies, the Americans have the best- trained, best-equipped, and best-supplied army ever to exist. An American soldier is armed with machine guns, grenade launchers, and the very best small arms equipment the world has to offer. No expense has been spared.

The Afghanistan soldier is usually hungry. He carries a circa 1970 Russian or Chinese assault rifle. It is usually a rusty AK-45 or an inefficient SKS. He has no extra ammunition, no real air support, and no hope of returning home alive. His powerful weapon is his copy of the Koran and a dusty prayer rug.

Americans value life and fight for a country they hope to return to. The fundamentalist warrior does not expect to return home. The Afghani soldier is indoctrinated from birth. He is taught that it is his obligation to fight any foreign aggressor to his last breath. He is told that if he dies in a jihad, 72 virgins will greet him in heaven.

Because of the disastrous Vietnam War, Americans have come to view the entire idea of war with fear. This is not the case with our Muslim adversaries. The Afghani believe that Allah approves of any war that is fought to defend Islam. He believes wholeheartedly that Allah is on his side. Death does not phase him. America doesn’t intimidate him. As long as he has air in his lungs, he will inflict as much destruction as possible. How do you fight an enemy who celebrates his own death?

This is why in the battle between the United States and Afghani fundamentalists, the odds are much more even than any of us are likely to think about.

Without a doubt, the emotion felt most strongly by everyone was anger. We, as a country, want to lash out at the culprits, most likely the exiled Egyptian Osama bin Laden.

This is all very well and good; we have a right to retribution. However, the effort to end terrorism must not stop with bringing bin Laden to justice. Bin Laden, while the most prominent terrorist, is by far not the only threat to world peace.

If the nation truly wishes to have a peaceful world free of terrorism, it must eliminate every terrorist.

Yasir Arafat, probably one of the worst, is actually recognized by the United States as a legitimate world leader. He won the Nobel Peace Prize. Explain to me how we can broker peace with someone who plants car bombs in children’s school buses on the one hand and tries to eliminate terrorism on the other.

In short, we must go after all terrorists, not just the ones we can deal with politically and expediently. We must stop being hypocrites.

Imagine this: you are rushing down the crowded hallway en route to your locker, almost knocking down a freshman in the process, about to be late for your next period class, knowing that you have just enough time to kick the locker open, grab your notebook, and get to class before it slams shut, when it happens—two people are standing in front of your locker going at it like there’s no tomorrow.

It’s happened to all of us, hasn’t it? Even if it wasn’t while going to your locker before class, I’m sure we’ve all been a witness to some sort of public display of affection (otherwise known as a PDA).

While in school, students should remember that there is a time and place for everything. Sure, you can be affectionate with your significant other during school hours, but know when enough is enough. Hand holding is cute, a kiss on the cheek is sweet, but making out in the middle of the hall is overdoing it.

Don’t get me wrong, I like  making out as much as the next person, but it’s not something that has to be shared with the entire student body. Take a hint from a couple that finds a way to kiss discreetly. Maybe you too can try going into the stairway to get a kiss before class. You don’t have to stand directly in the center of the hall or outside of the cafeteria so the whole school bears witness.

All I’m saying is that some people may find that PDA’s in school are unnecessary, annoying, and sometimes deserving of an ‘EWWW!’ So, if you feel that it’s absolutely mandatory for you to make out with your boy and/or girlfriend in school, just be considerate of those around you. Thanks.