I hope nobody reads this. Really. I am writing this for myself.

The Tololy is prepared to be self centered and to come clean with those haunting notions in the mind. Conflicts they generate and no rest they give her, therefore she has decided to jot them down. Spill them on the monitor using five fingers. Note the persona changing.

I am having all sorts of sad feelings when I think that I am done with studying, for the time being. Being at college was one of the most profound experiences of my life, it taught me a lot, and I am certain it did not mean it. Coming at a crucial time in The Tololy’s life, a time rich with experiments and various currents of thought and belief, it goes without saying that it itched a warm memory.

Just thinking of this time, in previous semesters, made me cry. I have come to discover that I am highly sentimental about places, locations matter to me. I think I might be a bit too loyal and fragile in this regard. I am attached to the very campus of the U of J, it holds so many of my personalities.

Sometimes when I am trying to get from point A to point B, I see a spot and I instantly get back in the mood that I had once entertained or suffered in that location. The people I was with, the chronological frame, previous and post events; all those come back to me in a flash.

At the end of each semester I cry. Why I do that I am not sure. I may sound like your choice of a nerd when I say that I even bond with professors. They tend to really like me, and I am not making this up. I bond with the books, too! The end of a semester means the end of a special relationship with an atmosphere, the closure of a state.

I would like to name a few of my professors, those who have had strong influence over the mechanics of my years as a student. Dr.Jihad Shuaibi, who always had an amazing amount of faith in me. He never, not even once, put me down, and was supportive at all times. Prof.Ubaldo Lugli, who taught me how to appreciate literature and history, and who always had superb views about everything. His encyclopedic character had a major impact on my line of thought, and because of him I read more. He had this way of knowing everything, with dates -mind you, that made me extremely jealous and hence triggered a yet crazier thirst for knowledge within this mind of mine. Those super-intelligent conversations we used to have for hours on end after official class time is up will forever remain with my intellect, treasured moments of enlightenment.

Not to forget Prof.Maria Laura Iasci, who was pretty tough on everyone inside class and yet managed to be everyone’s best friend outside. I would never forget the uncertainty I felt every time I sat for an exam of her design, but her classes were one of the most beneficial. My Japanese language teacher, Kobayashi sensei, was the sweetest face to see at 8 AM, someone who teaches something considerably difficult and yet makes the lesson such an enjoyable experience. She brought light to my eyes about many of Japan’s fine arts and cultural facades, and her birthday party was splendid. I got to try original O Sushi, Wasabi, Sakura, as well as other things.

I would never betray Dr.Hassan Hassan’s memory. He was my Hebrew language teacher, and for the two levels of the language that I took was serious and kind at the same time. I love the fact that he greets me whenever we meet on campus, and every time he asks about my schooling and such. He is a very intelligent instructor and truly caring.

Tonight I passed by the university’s premises, and I was suddenly gasping for air. This is so sad. It’s this stage of my life that has been, up until now, the most fun, the most insane, the most rejected, and the most emotional; all in one! I cannot seem to be able to bring myself to accept that it is over, I have closure issues. Disgusting.

From hanging out with hardcore metal heads, to the Adiga corner, to the pavement of the street dubbed as “The Vulgars’”, to the coolest spot by the Business Administration faculty called “The Square”, to the “Square” right in the middle of the science faculties’ section of campus, to the Languages’ “Square”, I grew into totally different people in such brief periods of time.

Those dark phases of depression that I used to live quite frequently and the days on which I was giddy after a dose of orange juice, the sacred oversized turkey sandwiches, the explicit words I would use on slow pedestrians, the numerous crushes on guys who never even knew I existed, the following someone just to bug them, the girl I used to hammer every time I saw and the getting my friends to do that to her too (not nice), the smart verbal fights with this girl who thinks she’s oh-so-hot, the everyday fashion shows, the twisted alien presentations where I would wear a silver jacket and shiny purple shoes with them odd accessories and the weird head thing (because I am talking about aliens, you see), the editing job at the campus journal, the failed attempt to donate blood, the cancer centre with the beautiful children, the sign language course with the Saudi man who likes to play with his dirty feet in class, the hordes of professors who teach English or Italian and yet speak a language of their own, the bookshop where all the world’s printed words’ seduction exists, the bits of volunteering I did here and there, the ceremony where the Rector of the university and the deans gave me and others some awards, the being written about in a newspaper (with a colored picture!), the harshly cold winter days where folks try in vain to get me to drink something hot, the being an outcast to the limit of the title due to unseen-before dress codes, the being defiant and rebellious, and the rest of what I was.

Those are my memories. I keep them in my heart, and sometimes there are pictures to speak of them. I enjoyed every second of being a university student, I terribly loved it, and those gloomy days in particular have shaped me into what I am today.
I have said much, this does not qualify as a blog entry to some, but language is inadequate. Truly crippled.