Cüneyt Goes Gaga
BY CÜNEYT YILMAZ (ECON/IV)
cuneyt_y@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
I'm sitting in front of my computer staring clueless at a blank page like a 4-month-old would at a stapler, except that the 4-month-old would eventually decide to taste the stapler and wind up stapling his own tongue, while I lack the slightest interest in my computer's taste. I think I've been struck by writer's block -- or l'angoisse de la page blanche, as my dear neighbor Kardelen might refer to it.
This lasts, however, only until I get one of those emails from Hande Hanım urging me to send in my column by tonight -- but this time with a little note stating that this will be the LAST column I'm writing. Puzzled, I hit the reply button: "Wait! Aren't I supposed to write two more columns?" "No, Cüneyt," she responds calmly, "the last issue of Bilkent News will come out on May 15." So here I am, stuck with a few hours and around four hundred words to say what I've got to say. After that, puff… it's all gone.
Gibberish, i.e., the profession of speaking nonsense, has been a fondness of mine ever since I've known myself. Yet, setting aside my messing up of a poem-reading during primary school, until I started writing for Bilkent News I'd never been given the chance to do so in front of a community of such smart people as this. Seriously, after having a quick look at the columns I've written over all these years, I wonder if it was a simple feeling of pity or a more complex cause like Stockholm Syndrome that kept them from firing me. Mind you, I'd rather not know the answer to that question, since I'm now teetering on the edge of leaving.
Regular readers of my column -- that is, of course, if any -- might be aware that I'll probably be going on for a master's degree after graduation. Given that I'm from İzmir, which is something I abstain from mentioning most of the time because of the possible hatred that might arise, I think I've had enough of Ankara and its extremely tedious climate. So I might look for a change of city. On the other hand, given the quality of the master's degree that our department offers, and making the pompous assumption that I'd be admitted, I might decide on staying here for two more years after all. If that should be the case, you will probably have to put up my biweekly babbling for a few more years.
The feeling of being published compares to nothing else. And it feels even better to know that there are people out there who read your columns, chuckle at a few of your jokes and maybe even write to you about how much they liked your latest column. However, I have to admit that the feedback mechanism here at Bilkent doesn't really work that well, no matter how hard Bilkent News tries to make it do so. When you come to think of it, though -- and yes, I know I should refrain from vulgar generalizations here -- it's very unlikely that someone who pays people to write his Eng102 essays would read and comment on your columns.
But then again, there are people whose opinions I particularly value -- like I., for instance, whose brilliant columns made me want to write for Bilkent News too. There are also my instructors, who've been kind enough to read my columns (instead of the Econ papers awaiting them) and make fun of me. I should also thank my inner circle for their constant mocking of my columns, since whatever doesn't kill me supposedly makes me stronger. But more importantly, I should thank Hande Hanım for letting me occupy the very same corner of Bilkent News for this long, as well as for putting up with my incompetency in meeting deadlines. I'd also like to thank Diane for being such an amazing editor to work with.
Most of the stuff I've been writing in this column has been based on my own experiences. Yet, my scribblings haven't come anywhere near to covering the whole reality. This is partly due to the fact that I've got the memory of, well, a 512Mb flash drive, and my brain is extremely picky when it comes to storing memories. So these columns are, in a way, the sole remains of those splendidly wasted years. It's also because I wanted this column to be a funny one, even though the reality it's based on is anything but entertaining. In other words, my intention was to make this a thrilling account of the memories I cherish the most -- whether or not I succeeded, I don't know. Or, as Lady Gaga beautifully puts it, "It's sort of like my past is an unfinished painting, and as the artist of that painting, I must fill in all the ugly holes and make it beautiful again. It's not that I've been dishonest, it's just that I loathe reality."
This very journey I've had here, folks, has been a joy. Hope you enjoyed it too.
Adeus amigos!
P.S. Here is a picture of Charlie Brown and me contemplating our future.
