Theory of Relativity

No, I am not going to discuss any mathematical or physical paradoxes here, I will gladly leave that to my sister and her, eh, followers.

Almost two years ago a certain wise man (who happens to be a Shakespearean theatre workshop leader at our faculty) said to my "just expelled" classmate:
"Don't despair. In a five years time it won't matter anymore."
At that time, however, it was as helping a sentence as "time heals all wounds" from the mouth of your best friend right after your breaking up with the "love of your life".
Well, nowadays it is more than obvious that both the professional and family life of that classmate is a lot happier than it used to be when he was a working student like me. And I have learned my lesson, too, because since time the innocent Juliet was burried inside my heart, I have gradually come to the conclusion that time might be an extremely slow healer, yes, yet there are still things worth living for- even if you have (repeatedly) lost the person you loved.

Today, I was reminded of how relative the importance of certain events in the flow of time might be in an ironic way:

Two of our exams in "American studies" and most of the essay deadlines all take place on September 11th. The first reaction was panic and fear... of what? Not being able to pass them and thus being expelled? Silly me! There was a second immediate reaction to the information in my mind... A memory of different kind of fear...

Seven years ago. I would bet it was Tuesday. I can clearly remember my being allowed to leave the geography class, as I had a sudden urge to vomit. My feeling sick was, however, not the result of the teacher's disgusting testing methods, but because of some disease. I thus came home earlier than usually and found my mother speechless and shocked, in front of the TV, which she switched off instinctively as I entered the room. I wouldn't suspect my mum of watching something dirty so I knew that she was trying to protect me from something ... but there was no point, a few minutes later I knew. Fire, pain, tears, crashing planes, fall of WTC. At the moment I realized what was happening, my fever, failing the geography test, all seemed unimportant...
I was sure that the Third World War had just begun, crying over all those dead Americans, crying over myself, crying over the whole mankind.

Seven years have passed. The memory is still so vivid as if it was yesterday and yet we are already learning about "poets' reaction to 09/11" in our "American Cultural Studies" course.
I have become used to living in the world full of terrorists ad falling planes and yet I am feeling that I am at least a bit safer and happier than my parents were at my age...

Today, my fighting to the last breath for my not being expelled seems to be very important. After all those years of "blood, toil, tears and sweat" at the university, it would be really unpleasant to be labelled as an irresponsible high school graduate. But then, it is not a matter of life and death, as my father would say. I just hope that in a five years time it will be a laughing matter to read this.

Given that there is something like "next five years" of course.
Long live the optimists!