Special

"What you writing? Oooh, blog!" my friend just asked me. I think my monthly public-diary-writing has made me almost (almost!) MUWCI-famous. Don't think that's special, everyone in MUWCI is MUWCI-famous. Some because of the way they play the ukelele, some for their secret hatred towards the administration of this school, others because they broke the MUWCI hook up record.

"How was India?"
"Good."

"Hmmm."

I'm sorry for my lack of communication but you'll have to understand that either you sit down and listen to me hesitating and being confused about it for five hours, or you feel satisfied with the "it was nice but too hot I already miss it" answer. Is it okay to feel insulted if someone reduces everything to a "how was India?" because they don't even know the name of my school despite reading my blog every month, or is that also horribly arrogant and elitist? I guess it is.

Here, you have to be special. You cannot just like Katy Perry, oh no. Only if you can balance out or justify this guilty pleasure by your endless hippie-without-shoes-ness or intellectual vocabulary, it will be accepted. I have been taught and encouraged to become special for so long now, I find myself wondering what 'normal' is like. I have started to believe that moving back to Belgium will be much more of a culture shock than coming here ever was.

I had to reassure my friend that I did actually put the MUWCI postal code on my body. For forever. Some were friendly enough to let me know that this "branding" also happened in the Second World War. Truth is that having this print with me softens the scare I have that I will forget about everything in two dozen years. All I have to do is look down to my right heel and there are all the MUWCI pains and laughs and tears and smiles and slippers and tea cups; encaptured in just.  six.  numbers.

I noticed the other day I have started to copy the way I sleep and sit at a desk from my roomie with whom I share my corner. When I told her, she gave me a kiss on my cheek.

It's the time of the year when the heat makes your feet hurt because of swelling and when at night all you crave is the silence of no fans but that is just not possible. It's the time of the year when the TL lights in the library and classrooms stay switched on until the sun rises again. It's the time of the year when the bags under our eyes also pull down the mood and energy and smiles. It's the time of piles of unordened papers on desks with marks of cups that couldn't hold their coffee. It's the time of midnight Parle-G breaks and peers stealing pens from each other. 

And also, of giggles in studyrooms. A look of understanding when you cross a coyear at 2 AM. Morning walks and hot showers and long breakfasts to wake up properly. That one last art-centre party. Gossiping sessions with housemates. More frequent trips to OC. Ten minute sun-soaking hours. Lists of "people-I-need-to-talk-to-before-I-leave" and "people-I-need-to-write-a-goodbye-letter-to" and "people-I-want-to-become-friends-with" and "people-I-need-to-reconnect-with". Gifts and messages from IB buddies. First years there for you, anytime anyplace. More friendly smiles as if people want you to forgive them for not smiling for a year. Maybe finally genuine general respect for each other.

In thirty days and twelve hours, I graduate from high school, from MUWCI, from childhood.

A while

The cracks in the wall of my corner are signs of those who've been here before me. Evening blue, sky blue, woven white and harsh red. That's as far as it goes, my presence in the room remains visible for the four next generations but then I am gone and so are those before me.

Outside the window there's a tree which so delightfully makes the sun twinkle in my eyes when I sit on my bed at around 4.30 pm. I've spent a lot of times sitting on my bed at around 4.30 pm with the sun twinkling in my eyes, trying to finish the endless essays, internal assessments, labs.

Endless? No, not endless. The endlessness has come to an end last night when I submitted my final IB assessments. All there's left now is 5 subjects, 11 papers and 48 days of waking up by the sound of my roommate's alarm and contemplating whether or not the walk to the caf is worth the food, sitting at my desk full of ambition and half an hour later sinking under my bedsheets again because "I will be more productive after a half-an-hour nap", waking up and taking a shower because "I will be more productive after taking a shower" and then it's twelve so I cook for myself because "I will be more productive after a good meal".
At three I make myself some coffee as I have finally gotten a grip of that philosophical idea. I listen to the melody of his thoughtful poetry.

"Tu pourras m'dire tout ce que tu veux. Sous tes fous rires et tes grand airs. C'est pas la peine. Tu peux mentir à qui tu veux, tu souris trop pour être heureux. Tu m'fais d'la peine. Je t'aime quand même, moi. Je suis pas tes potes, ni ton boss ou tes collègues, moi. Tu m'prend vraiment pour un con. Tu crois que tu m'endors. Mais même derrière ton masque, tes cernes en parlent encore." 

It's scary how much the lyrics apply to MUWCI. Beneath all the lies, all the smiles and the aura of elitism always surrounding us. You smile too much to be happy. 


Trueness. Ambition. Appreciation. Calmness. Openness. What's the most important quality  to have?

I know my friends by their OCD tendencies and the way they like to sleep. The way they walk when they're stressed and how they sweep their hair when they are tired. What they like to have for breakfast, their favourite tea. The grooves on their face when they wake up in the morning. The expression in their eyes when we finally meet again after not seeing each other for 30 hours. The sorrow in their posture when a politician back home made another racist comment. Whether they take the effort to change into pyamas at night. How much hair oil they put after a shower.

To my coyears, I ask: when was the last time you sat next to the pool with an icecream from the coffeeshop? When was the last time you climbed internet hill and saw the contrast between green and yellowbrown? When was the last time you saw a child smile? When was the last time you openly criticized the admin? When was the last time you said something politically incorrect? When was the last time you wanted to change the world?

It's been a while.