Sunday, October 07, 2007

The other American in my dorm is a really nice guy, and he drives me crazy. I don't know what it is, I can't explain it, but spending more than three or four hours with the guy is like listening to water drip into a sink all day. I talk a lot, anyone who knows me can tell you that, but he takes it to a new level: he fights against the silence and any prolonged break in the conversation the way some people go to church, or with the kind of excited energy and good naturedness I imagine dairy farmers in Wisconsin harness to get out of bed in January.

I frequently have times when I just don't want to talk, to anybody. Period. I don't know where it comes from, or why I do it, but sometimes I just don't want to talk about anything, to pretend I care about what comes out of someone else's mouth. Well, this doesn't go with this guy. He'll just jabber away with his inexaustible enthusiasm until I give an answer, any answer, which is more often than not a short sentence that usually has as many syllables as I have fingers. It's all very rude, and I feel guilty about it, but the alternative (screaming at him to shut up), just doesn't seem socially appropriate, even under the most viscious social duress.

I think this all just boils down to the fact that I don't do well with people who are ALWAYS completely enthralled by everything, from the bleaching red of a stop sign to the length of a girl's skirt. I mean, can't you just be a little less full of wonder, just for five minutes? I can't keep up. It's a marathon of good will, and he's won. I'm out. I can't take anymore. Every jolly clap on my shoulder is hammer stoke on my chains, and every good-hearted, nervous apology, an arrow in my eye. His desire to get along almost completely runs directly counter to the fact that we have very, very little in common.

He's just so damn wholesome. I'm up against farmer Brown on the back forty, and my tractor's broke.

Case and point: Somehow it came up that I was a Quaker (I think he asked what I was, actually), and we had a rather in depth conversation concerning God, campassion, and non-violence. It's a conversation that I put right up there with buying new jeans and unpacking on my enjoyability scale, since it always ends with everyone disagreeing with me, or at least throwing Hitler in my face, which is a topic for an entire other post. Anyway, he didn't agree with me, and now feels the need to suggest readings on non-violence and peace movements to me (they're usually accompanied by a hearty shoulder slap), and to express his own views on violence, while adding at the end that I have the right idea. It's all very nice of him, because I can see where he's going with it, and why he's doing it, but knock if off already!

I don't care that he doesn't agree with me, because 99.97 % of the human race doesn't agree with me. If I only hung out with people who did, I'd have about 4 1/2 freinds, if that. Yes, I watch violent movies, no I don't mind MENTIONING the Second World War, and no, I don't mind reading novels that have a viewpoint different from my own, because it's art. It's not real. I understand the difference between what I see on TV and how I should act. Ahhhh. OK, breath. OK.

We were both invited to a concert together today, so I should head off and work on my tolerance before I have to sit next to him and have him tell me during the concert how fantastic this is.

Oh, did I mention that he'll just come and sit down to talk just wearing his bathtowel and nothing else? I mean, seriously, what the hell is that all about?


Blogger eleKtrofly said...

the part about the dairy farmers had me laughing...

8:39 PM  
Blogger Der verwirrte Ausländer said...

Glad you like my posts. It's always good to know people enjoy them.

1:23 PM  

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