Where am I? It is odd for a designer to emerge to the foreground. Mine is a quieter contemplation of sketches and models figuring out how to house a narrative and push it forward in action-creating a kind of illusion of time and space. It is not writing press releases or op-ed pieces for a newspaper. It is not setting up a Web site forum on Facebook, though I must admit I have a passing curiosity of the real identity of Thomas Morgan, the extremely well-informed writer on University matters who baited my colleagues on the site. He knows a lot. I am glad he entered the debate.

There was a point where I said this is not my cup of tea. It makes me very uncomfortable. I cannot do this, but with reluctance, I pushed the button to launch the Facebook page. Click. The modern Pandora's box in the guise of my black Macbook. A minor maelstrom in the scale of human events, but even I was surprised as those numbers climbed. My mind is a collection of snippets of image and conversation.

How did we get here?

My language tightens. My vision narrows until I am looking but not seeing much, not noticing much. Boy, this is not my thing, particularly for someone interested in the longer view. I usually sit with the audience. I observe. The raw emotion is apparent, and I try to sit back to watch the considerable drama. Then something about it turns on in my designer head. There is a script here somewhere among all of this activity. I want to tell one of my students that the banner is not good enough, to look at that gentle curve of the Spingold Theater Center balcony from this perspective in the parking lot and follow that with a long slender slip in black and white. "You are thinking and not seeing-it's not the same thing." But I never get to say that. Again, things drain away. There is a lot of sturm und drang. Tempests. I smile. I have seen it a million times. It's familiar territory.

And I stop again. I want to redesign, really redesign the story-the scenario is darker, the lights much more expressionistic, the entrances askew, the colors bluer, darker with red-no greener, more acidic for emphasis. Die Brücke. I recompose the stage picture.

Whatever does this mean?

I sit down again, blank roll of paper and pencil, in a bit of a panic that I can't seem to find the physical presence of the story. It's simpler I think. There is some basic conflict; I am not sure of the resolution, but it's always about the resolution in the end. Sometimes I even work backwards from the end.

Where did it go wrong?

For all of the characters-has some misunderstanding become too solid to budge? I am honestly afraid that no one will believe or understand that it isn't about the money-it never is-even in the theater. It's always possible in the theater whether you have $50 or $50,000. Thomas Morgan, the Facebook cipher, said something about how we can't afford Ferraris with Brandeis' budget-if he only knew! It's an illusion, buster! It's first seeing what the story needs, not personal wants and desires, and going for it. Don't students need that? I wonder if we don't all need that-deserve that.

I want to stop this. I want to sit down and have a conversation and talk with people who I care about-which is just about everyone at this point-to see if we can figure this out. We have this great thing that generates all this passion in so many people that has stood by them for many years-something that is intangible and active and fresh and above all "now." We need "now" more than ever at this moment. "Now" can keep us safe to do the next right thing. 'Now' is impossibly creative and at the same time incredibly practical. It begins to slowly rise out of the searching: "Now" says lay out the possibilities of a new story line. Everyone is a little more relaxed seeing there are choices. Everything lightens up. It is bigger and smaller at the same time. Bigger than Brandeis and as small as me. Above all, it's very human. It is the loud sound of a society struggling with its principles. Is there a better topic for Brandeis? It's change and it's good.

The writer is an associate professor of design in the Theater Arts department.