A Bit on this Past Semester
I'm sitting in Case Hall's lovely computer lab, home to so many hours killed between classes, and AIM Express isn't working: this seems like an all right time to write an entry.
Living on campus has been a huge transition for me in a lot of ways, though I've grown so used to the rhythm and idiosyncracies of college life that it seems like Troy is light years away. A part of me, at the beginning of the semester, grew hopeful that the less desirable elements of my personality had vanished with the changes. I see now that this isn't true, though, with the opportunities afforded me, that may not be such a bad thing.
This may be most apparent in my dealings with my roommate, an international student at MSU who comes from a very wealthy background in Korea. I was at first very fascinated with his culture (and he with mine, as we both saw an opportunity to learn a lot) and we got along swimmingly. We initially were in a temporary rooming situation with one other person, though when another room in my building opened up and I was to go, this roommate insisted upon coming along with me. I met many of his Korean friends and even learned a few Korean phrases--which, as a side note, are a great way to impress random Korean people. He was very understanding of me, going so far as to apologize whenever he needed to speak Korean to one of his friends. I, of course, saw that as a bit excessive. But I was nonetheless flattered that he was willing to make such concessions.
As the semester wore on and the novelty wore off, things began to change. I was assigned more and more homework: two of my classes require, apiece, somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty hours of out-of-class work per week. Kinko's became an absolute nightmare, draining me of all energy and vitality on the days I was scheduled. I began to want quiet time, if not necessarily privacy, at some of the times when these obligations weren't eating away my time. Resultantly, conversations and activities became more and more sparse, if through no sense of animosity on either of our parts.
Somewhere in the course of things, my roommate began to exclusively use Korean around his friends, effectively excluding me from the majority of his conversations. I began to see him come home with more and more extraneous items--a $500 scooter, a heavy-duty paper shredder, three or four iPods, an iMac G5, a BMW, a bicycle, a PSP, and plenty of other gadgets--with apparently no concern for cost. Conversations began to center on which city he'd fly to this or that weekend and what he'd be purchasing when his mom or aunt sent him more money. He spoke of wanting a job for the novelty of it while I worked 25-hour weeks being smashed in the face by impatient customers at Kinko's.
I have to admit that somewhere in the course of all this, I reflected on how I felt about everything. I felt betrayed once again by my introversion and horrified at the sense of annoyance I was beginning to feel toward this roommate. I thought back and wondered whether any conversation I'd had with him had centered on feelings or issues rather than cultural trivia and item acquisition. I don't believe any had. As people, or at least I, am wont to do in the face of such a conflict, I began to rationalize ways to justify my annoyance.
I haven't necessarily learned that my judgments were in error. Disappointed though I may be with my lack of tolerance for some things, I have to admit that I'm human and can't always control my feelings. This sounds obvious, but I think I really needed to see it to understand: there are all kinds of people everywhere, from every walk of life, and stereotypes really do tend to shatter in the face of wisdom. It's dangerous to become interested in a culture, I've found, and assume that an affinity with its traditional expression will necessitate any kind of compatibility with a person from that culture.
I don't submit that this roommate is or was a bad person. I can only say that I don't know him very well personally, but that from what I've seen, things are best left that way. He's in the process of leaving the room, ostensibly because his rich family wants to move with him into an off-campus apartment (in a complex generally set aside for regular college students) but probably because he wants the privacy of an apartment and freedom from the American who turned out to be withdrawn. I'm in the process of considering what this whole ordeal says about who I am and what human nature is.
Living on campus has been a huge transition for me in a lot of ways, though I've grown so used to the rhythm and idiosyncracies of college life that it seems like Troy is light years away. A part of me, at the beginning of the semester, grew hopeful that the less desirable elements of my personality had vanished with the changes. I see now that this isn't true, though, with the opportunities afforded me, that may not be such a bad thing.
This may be most apparent in my dealings with my roommate, an international student at MSU who comes from a very wealthy background in Korea. I was at first very fascinated with his culture (and he with mine, as we both saw an opportunity to learn a lot) and we got along swimmingly. We initially were in a temporary rooming situation with one other person, though when another room in my building opened up and I was to go, this roommate insisted upon coming along with me. I met many of his Korean friends and even learned a few Korean phrases--which, as a side note, are a great way to impress random Korean people. He was very understanding of me, going so far as to apologize whenever he needed to speak Korean to one of his friends. I, of course, saw that as a bit excessive. But I was nonetheless flattered that he was willing to make such concessions.
As the semester wore on and the novelty wore off, things began to change. I was assigned more and more homework: two of my classes require, apiece, somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty hours of out-of-class work per week. Kinko's became an absolute nightmare, draining me of all energy and vitality on the days I was scheduled. I began to want quiet time, if not necessarily privacy, at some of the times when these obligations weren't eating away my time. Resultantly, conversations and activities became more and more sparse, if through no sense of animosity on either of our parts.
Somewhere in the course of things, my roommate began to exclusively use Korean around his friends, effectively excluding me from the majority of his conversations. I began to see him come home with more and more extraneous items--a $500 scooter, a heavy-duty paper shredder, three or four iPods, an iMac G5, a BMW, a bicycle, a PSP, and plenty of other gadgets--with apparently no concern for cost. Conversations began to center on which city he'd fly to this or that weekend and what he'd be purchasing when his mom or aunt sent him more money. He spoke of wanting a job for the novelty of it while I worked 25-hour weeks being smashed in the face by impatient customers at Kinko's.
I have to admit that somewhere in the course of all this, I reflected on how I felt about everything. I felt betrayed once again by my introversion and horrified at the sense of annoyance I was beginning to feel toward this roommate. I thought back and wondered whether any conversation I'd had with him had centered on feelings or issues rather than cultural trivia and item acquisition. I don't believe any had. As people, or at least I, am wont to do in the face of such a conflict, I began to rationalize ways to justify my annoyance.
I haven't necessarily learned that my judgments were in error. Disappointed though I may be with my lack of tolerance for some things, I have to admit that I'm human and can't always control my feelings. This sounds obvious, but I think I really needed to see it to understand: there are all kinds of people everywhere, from every walk of life, and stereotypes really do tend to shatter in the face of wisdom. It's dangerous to become interested in a culture, I've found, and assume that an affinity with its traditional expression will necessitate any kind of compatibility with a person from that culture.
I don't submit that this roommate is or was a bad person. I can only say that I don't know him very well personally, but that from what I've seen, things are best left that way. He's in the process of leaving the room, ostensibly because his rich family wants to move with him into an off-campus apartment (in a complex generally set aside for regular college students) but probably because he wants the privacy of an apartment and freedom from the American who turned out to be withdrawn. I'm in the process of considering what this whole ordeal says about who I am and what human nature is.