 Fellow seniors, it's that time of the year
The time to deal with the yearbook. This is when you feel the first wave of the realization that the end is near. As fellow columnist Eda pointed out in her column two weeks ago, the real panic is still to come. I'm suspecting that the start of the spring semester will be the next big wave, and by the time you're taking your final finals you will be wishing they will never end. It sounds impossible right now, but since I have actually asked, no demanded, a couple of instructors to fail me on purpose in order to prolong my stay here at cozy Bilkent, it is actually highly probable.
So what usually happens during this time of the year? The yearbook, among all its other positive connotations like success, a compilation of good memories, etc., also requires you to express what you feel toward friends in just a hundred or so words. Since this is not an easy task, because of its whole emotional dimension, you postpone it until the last minute. So you end up staying up really late the day before the due date for submission, overflowing with bittersweet emotions, completely disregarding tons of assignments due the next day, and try to find the perfect words you would want your friend to remember you by. Or at least that's how I was...
While I was supposedly waiting for my muses to come and visit me (but in fact I was desperate because I just couldn't come up with anything to write), I logged on to Facebook, as most of us do when we want to avoid responsibility, and saw a friend's status which made my day at that moment. It read, "I couldn't study for my exam because of dealing with the yearbook. I am so overflowing with emotion." So I wasn't alone in my misery.
At the end, I did manage to write a few lines for each of my friends and was satisfied with how they sounded. But still they were far from being perfect. And that's how they are supposed to be: imperfect. Just like your yearbook picture. You try to look your best and smile candidly, but no matter how hard you try, your picture will never be exactly how you want it to be. It never is. Similarly you might have stopped waiting for your muses to feel like lending you a hand in writing and just scribbled some nice rubberstamp phrases for a friend who means a lot more than that.
My point is that your yearbook shouldn't be and isn't perfect. But the memories of what you went through to make it perfect, are. Just like that sleepless but very precious night I spent.
By Gönenç İnal (TRIN/IV)
g_inal@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
|
