I'm starting to believe some sardonic, dark fate have tied my life to cold and rainy days, because these are still my best moments in Leuven. No, I'm not going crazy; trust me, I love sunny days the most. But sadly spring always comes with one dreaded thing: POLLEN.

 

So, the other day I went to see the doctor with itching eyes, itching ears, itching throat, sneezing and a runny nose.

"Am I gonna die?" I said with a cheered up smile, trying to poke the iceberg.

"Here!" – she replied with the typical I-am-the-boss smile – "this is a pollenkalender, just try to keep away from those trees," pointing to a list of flowering plants, quite forgetting there's no place in the whole of Leuven where I won't come across some Es trees, Els trees, Berk trees, Wilg trees, Populier trees or Eik trees ... bugger! I can't even pronounce these names properly.

Never mind!

I have not told you, have I, about the news: that my days of allergy in Leuven are coming to an end. Fair enough. All things come to an end. I'll surely miss all the wonderful people I've met, and I'll certainly forget the arseholes ... and talking about "holes"...

Finally, my "International Master in Social Policy Analysis" that, at times, seemed so endless, so tough, so distant is about to take its last piece of my tortured and frozen mind. But now that it is coming to an end, I'm starting to think seriously about life.

Unbelievably?

Yes!

Life has been so busy, so demanding, for the past two years – hundreds of thousands of essay words; exam after exam after exam after exam; loads of parties; dinner nights; picnics; daytrips (Ostend, Knokke, Zebrugge, Liege, Dinant, Durbuy, Bruges, Ghent, Eupen, Luxembourg...); long trips (Prague, Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, London, Madrid...); summer concerts; winter concerts; meters of beer; some bottles of wine; random, boring, underpaid weekend jobs; a bad breakup; my virginity (which I've been told I shall find again once I get married); a bunch of regretful, smelly kisses; hours on Skype talking to family, relatives and friends - it surely has been one hell of an experience. Still, after such a long busy period, life can become quite empty, almost literally.

Now, why there is such emptiness after a busy period in life is a question best left to some philosophers to answer. I can say that much though: the hollowness that follows a hectic life is no tale; it's a rough truth. It feels so compressed, so dense; it's much like piercing a hole right through your chest, a hole the size of a black hole – from where not even light can escape.

I can't say much about black holes; I'm not an expert in Physics, Astrophysics, Astronomy, or whatever else worries about black holes. But since there's nothing, almost nothing, these days that Professor Google cannot answer, here's my shorthand for it:

"Black holes" are, ah ... well, "holes" – that, ironically, are not really black – as heavy as the dead massive stars that create them, only that now the huge mass of the dead star is totally squashed in a teeny tiny space. If you're too close, careful, you'll be gobbled up by the voracious whirlpool and...

Now I'm sounding like a crackpot; but when I say life feels like a black hole, it's just my mind going metaphorical. What I'm really saying is that, like more than half of students in the Globe, I'm worried too that I won't be able to find a nice job on graduation. So, it'd appear that the endless ballad hasn't come to a total end just yet. But on the other hand, overcoming black holes is pretty much my middle name – one at a time, though, one at a time.

Right now I have to stop this story; I'm seeing some friends at Oude Markt. Sadness, uncertainties and ghosts will just have to wait a little longer and see what life throws this way next. Meanwhile, I say cheers to all black holes in the universe and to the few ones in my life. |