Graduate of the Year Award Winner

For someone who only four years ago did not know what an anecdote was or which part of the world Cyprus is, I think I have done considerably well. Well, am sure you might have an idea of what an anecdote is, on the other hand you may belong to the category of people who will definitely fall into a slight depression after they google the word and realize it is not what they were so convinced it was - a vegetable, and then start questioning everything they know and realize that most of their life has been a series of wrong definitions and lies. By now, thanks to google, you have also confirmed that Cyprus, with a capital 'C' is a country and not a glorified tropical fruit. I however cannot blame you, I mean not everyone...knows things.

For some of us, knowing things means seeking knowledge and so about four years ago, I joined university. With all these big dreams and potential I walked the streets on campus, and just like all the great world academicians in their first year, spent a great amount of time trying to find out where the bathrooms were. I really do not understand why these very important facilities are the most hard to find, I mean...they are more important than class rooms if you ask me.

 Another great task was finding people I would call friends. After serious research and a series of interesting experiences, I realized that the term University is derived from the words 'Universe' and 'Insanity' mix the two and you have 'University'. The level of weirdness on campus is incomparable. I would not be surprised if some people were raised by wolves! It was in university that I saw for the very first time a man with straightened hair covering his eyes and blaming it on his emotions. If you ask me, the only straight thing about him was...well, his hair.

 It was also in university that I discovered the word 'culture shock', and not because it was taught in class, but out of the shock I got from what people call culture. Wearing torn clothes with scruffy hair and 'loud' jewelry is not culture, it's called being misplaced. At least that's what I thought in my first year, before I got my first pair of torn Jeans, lost my comb in my second year and became a revolutionary conscious rebel and member of the poetry club.

Only in university could you find those revolutionary poetry clubs convinced that poetry is all we need to solve all of earth's problems and that taaaalllkkkiing lllliiike thiiiiiis... sounds cool. So some torn clothes, scruffy hair, crazy talk...I mean poetry, and retardedly slow speech and a rebel was born. You see university, it's all your fault. So much for being and institution of higher learning, how about and institute for high learners! Oh ya there was some 'highness' involved....

So all that, plus the annoying room mate who has unending stories about how his day was and how the government needs to solve all the problems including his sucky day, then throw in some propaganda and senseless rhetoric about how spinning backwards long enough would turn back time and you have a relatively normal campus life. So between fighting 'the system' and skipping classes I became a mini version of Che Guevara, with the lyrical prowess of Mos Def and consciousness of Common and the wisdom of Gandhi...it is so easy to lie to yourself. Instead of all that I became the weird guy who dressed funny and wrote random words down with no grammatical structure whatsoever and called it poetry. At some point I became the unit for crazy where people would tell each other something like, "I think you are spending too much time with Ras." or "Are Okay? You seem to be pulling a Ras lately...I hope everything is Okay." Hey but at least I was popular.

Unfortunately exams do not care for popularity and so most of the times I found myself staring at the lecturer invigilating an exam, wanting to ask, "Okay, I've seen the worst that could happen, where's the real exam?" and then they'd give me the, "This is the exam" look and I would start wondering what would happen if I faked a stroke or bit off my thumb and then tell the lecturer how impossible it was to hold a pen without my thumb. So most of the time I found myself writing the lecturer a note at the bottom of the answer sheet, partly trying to fight the system by declaring how results did not determine who I was and partly kissing bum in an attempt blind the lecturer of the fact that I knew nothing.

Sadly, all great things have to come to an end.

I have been thinking of several phrases best suited for such an occasion, so after numerous attempts, this is what I came up with... I AM DONE WITH SCHOOL!!! YOU HEAR ME WORLD? DONE!!! D.O.N.E. DONE!!! Okay, I know I could have come up with a more creative string of words but you know what, I do not care. I do not care because no teacher or lecturer is going to look at my work condescendingly, dangling affirmation over my head like a sadist dangling crack cocaine in front of an addict's face. I do not care because I do not have to wake up every Monday morning trying to figure out if I had an assignment due that week or worse, an exam. Lastly, I do not care because I am a step closer to my dream of living in a room with an endless supply of potato crisps, unlimited internet and a comfy chair. Still I can't get rid of the nagging feeling that I have it all wrong.

In my head, I feel like Columbus after discovering America. I feel like a pioneer, a voyager a...enough with the corny nouns...I am freaking excited!!! I feel like a bee after some idiot stupidly shakes my hive and then is not smart enough to run away in time before I regain my composure. I feel like the world owes me an award for World's Greatest Graduate.

Even the voices in my head are excited. They are like, "dude, we should burn something" and am like "how about my old class notes?" and they reply, "We were thinking more of the part of the constitution that talks about school." and then I stop thinking before I get myself into trouble.

So,  I remain optimistic...after all, what's the worst that could happen?