Conversation 6

Elementary school was an strange time for me. I was deeply involved with athletics but, unlike many of my peers, also had a passion for reading and videogames. I also had quite an eclectic friend group, a couple of the “cool” kids, athletes, some “nerds,” and then there was Ryan. Now Ryan was an amazing kid and he and I hit it off from day one. We quickly became best friends and were practically inseparable. The kid was one of the most accepting people that I have ever known and looking back I think that’s why I naturally wanted to be his friend.

He was a grade older and lived just down the road so we always met up after school to play. Now I say play for the very reason that there is no other way to describe it, and I don’t mean play in the traditional sense. We didn’t play sports or play video games etc., we simply played. Every day we would come up with a new story. One day we were all-star athletes having to deal with the pressure of sports and the media, another day we were acting out our favorite movies and taking them on radically different plot paths, still another we became secret agents that had to balance our life at home with our wives and kids, we were very competitive on which of us got to marry princess Zelda by the way.

This play, which eventually came to be known to us as “the game,” was something that he and I shared and is something that I fondly look back on even today. Never before in my life, or I think ever again, will I be as connected with my imagination as I was way back in the third grade. We could spend hours fighting dragons and going on massive quests of grand adventures, complete with our own level up systems and achievements, or we could manage the daily life of an oppressed villager, these sorts of stories would always end with us rising up as the leaders of the rebellion of course.

What was so amazing about this was that the stories almost never ended with happily ever after. Unlike so many of the stories we had seen and been told about, we saw the story to the end. If we both vanquished the evil king, eventually one of us would succumb to the thirst for power. It was the others job then to stop the once hero, now maniacal wizard, from consuming the world in hellfire. These sorts of stories would often result in tragedies where we were forced to slay one another, but the story would never end there. Instead our character’s children would live on and we would become them in a new storyline.

So what happened if we were tired of being able to use magic? An EMP magic bomb would hit the earth and all magic would die, soon to be replaced with advanced technology. Tired of sci-fi? A cataclysm would hit the planet and modern civilization as we knew it would be destroyed. There were endless possibilities! The worlds we created were always unique with their own set of rules. At times gravity was next to nothing, other times humans were the size of ants. Nothing had to make sense, and yet to us it made perfect sense.

In our own way we had created a never-ending epic filled with adventure and the mundane to form the perfect wonderland. As cheesy as it is, our imaginations opened up a myriad of worlds each more different than the last and yet still connected.

As I have grown older, I’ve taken several looks back on my life and realized that many of my passions today are driven by and are due to my time spent with Ryan creating “the game.” The stories we created together have helped me to become the person I am today. They taught me the value of doing what’s right, the value of doing what’s hard, the value of never giving up, and the importance of loving others.

Stories are humanities way of showing that we are the ideal, the paramount, and the incredible, and stories are also humanities way of showing that we are the broken, the rejected, and the inconceivable; however, the greatest lesson that I learned from “the game” is that no matter where we find ourselves in our real world story, there is always room to grow, achieve, and become more than we are.

Since I was planning on meeting with Cori Jo to have dinner with her conversation partner, I was going to use that meeting as a conversation meeting. Unfortunately those plans fell through due to the inclement weather. In order to compensate I used a replacement prompt.

“A favorite childhood game”

Conversation 5

There are times in everyone’s lives where we are embarrassed to… be. My first visit with Hussain was one of the most awkward experiences in my life, as we spent nearly 45 minutes looking for each other on campus playing verbal telephone. In recognition of our first talk I figured I would bring to light another fantastic blunder, this time from elementary school.

There, done! I finish the last fraction problem on the worksheet as the bus trundles along the twisting back roads of my neighborhood. Even though it seemingly hit every bump in the road and is perhaps one of he must uncomfortable forms of transportation, today I was glad for the long bus rides home. If there was a day I absolutely had to I could finish all my homework, I could and today was one of those days. My grandmother was coming!

Lifting my head from my folder, I look around and see that it is just my sister and I left on the bus.  Sweet, we’re almost home. I loosely fumbled with the difficult bus windows and took in the warm, humid air. I spotted my house and quickly packed my backpack and twisted my mechanical pencil so as not to break the lead. Every time my grandmother came into town we would go on a trip and this time she said to be excited.

Two hours later we arrived at the ice rink. I was overcome with excitement! My first time skating. I just knew that I was going to be amazing. From the second I stepped on the ice I would be the best, at least that’s what I had told myself. We walked in the front doors and the workers made my grandmother do some kind of paperwork. I honestly couldn’t have cared less. All I could think of was my skates.

The door creaked open and I was greeted by a gust of artificially chilled air. My carefully prepared walk came into full effect as I (what can only be described as a cross between a waddle and falling over) over to the ice rink door. With confidence I grabbed at the side board and put one skate on the ice. With little to no hesitation I strode forward with the security of a seasoned skating savant only to quickly find that the ground was no longer where it was supposed to be. As the ice rushed towards my face one thing passed through my mind, “Well that’s not supposed to happen.”

Not only did I slightly black out, I also ended up in the hospital because the swelling was so bad. The worst part of it was that a couple of my classmates saw me fall. My dreams of being an all-star skater, needless to say, were dashed and I was devastated and embarrassed beyond measure. My grandmother had to leave the next day too so I didn’t even get to enjoy her trip. Overall it was a really bad moment that I still to this shiver about when I think about it.

Conversational #4

After another long struggle to meet with my conversation partner, we finally found time to meet. Hussain has steadily seemed more stressed and busy lately, and I took a moment to think about why. I ran through a little checklist in my head and realized that out of all our meetings, I still haven’t asked him about classes, at least beyond the superficial conversation starter “how are classes going?” I figured it would be worth a shot to at least ask him. Turns out I hit the nail on the head.

Hussain’s been under a lot of pressure lately to keep his scholarship, something that I couldn’t’ believe considering he seemed like a studying machine. He explained that he received a scholarship from his government to study here in the states and with that comes extremely strict guidelines. To remain eligible for his scholarship, he has some sort of academic measurement (I asked if it was GPA but I couldn’t explain it to him well enough) that dictates whether the government will reissue his funding. Unfortunately, he is taking really advanced mathematic courses that require word problem solving skills. That means that even if he knows how to do a problem, he often has trouble understanding what the problem is asking for.

I asked if he had talked to his teacher and he said he had, but I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. It almost felt unfair that he was given less of a chance to succeed simply because of his native language. I figured that mathematics would be an easier major to step into since a lot of it is working with numbers, but I hadn’t thought about how vocabulary and word skills are important too.

 He then proceeded to show me his vocabulary book that he uses in his language course. I took one glance at it and couldn’t believe that they were making them learn these kinds of words. Many of them were words only an experienced reader would know (this means that very few Americans would know them) and a scant few would be useful in his math problems. I resisted the urge to say that so bluntly however, as I didn’t want to devalue his hard work. He had clearly thumbed through the book multiple times and had marked it up in some kind study system.

We then spent the next few minutes discussing our respective languages. I went over a brief history of England with him in order to explain why English was so difficult and confusing. For the most part I think he understood what I was saying (although I may have lost him when I mentioned social classes and the Saxons). He then went on to explain a little of his language. He explained that there are an amazing amount of variations in Arabic dialects (He explained it as the difference between American and British language). These variations can make it complicated at times to communicate since these dialects are based on geography and since Saudi Arabia is so large.

Snowball Fight!

Thwack. Thud-thud. Whump. Sigh… I looked over at my clock and saw that it was around 2 in the morning. Thwump. I reached over to my window and pull up my blinds just as another small snowball smacks the windowpane. I quickly open the window and yell at them to stop only to have another flurry of white projectiles fly at my window. “That’s it!” I yelled at them. “I’m coming for ya!”

Needless to say the atmosphere was infectious. Something about snow can turn any person into a 4 year old child and tonight was no exception. Everyone out in the snow was smiling and giggling, and you would never guess that exams were quickly approaching. I ran outside to meet up with my friends and promptly began to fling snow in retaliation for breaking my concentration. Sadly, I didn’t consider that there were 5 of them and one of me, and I paid dearly for it. I quickly curled in a ball and formed a small 1 inch fort out of the … well ice-snow.

Needless to say, this also didn’t work as planned and I quickly became covered in the offending crystalized pellets. Quickly waving my hand as a metaphorical white flag, we agreed to call off the war and signed a peace treaty. (One that I had no intention of keeping of course)

After a few minutes of saying hi and catching up I told them that I was going to see if there was anyone else that I knew outside. Instead I went to go prepare a snowball stockpile. After a few minutes of preparation, I quickly amassed a collection of 8 or so perfectly round snowballs with which to complete my revenge. I then snuck up behind one of my friends who had separated from the group and hit him with one of my prepared projectiles. Little did I know that he was acting as bait! Another one of my friends had found my stockpile and began to pelt me with my own snowballs. It wasn't long till the rest of the group joined in.

At this point I began to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. Not only had my plan backfired but I was also acting like I a tiny child. My friends caught my laughter and soon began to laugh with me. I believe this event actually can be proven by relief theory. All the stress of finals combined with the release from conventional norms and everyone being in play mode created an atmosphere where laughter was easy to come by.

The rest of the night we watched through the window as people attempted to ski, snowboard, and sled in the semi-snow while sipping on hot chocolate and playing card games. Was the night productive? Not really, but I did have a great night and gained a memory I will cherish.

Meeting #3

Woo hoo! Hussain and I worked out another time to meet, and this time it was somewhere other than the Recreation center! I couldn’t stand meeting where it was so loud and distracting. It was really difficult to hear Hussain in this environment as he speaks very softly and never raises his voice. Oddly enough, Hussain never seemed seem to mind the cacophony in the Rec. Maybe it was due to his family environment.

Speaking of which (I know, nice segue right?), He talked a little about his family today. Compared to the first time we met, Hussain was much more talkative, seemed much more relaxed, and was ready to share his experiences with me (Guess talking about the weather can do that to ya). He brought up that his family was very large (Dr. Dan: yes I know that it is a bad word but he used it so I am sorry but I must reference it). He mentioned that some of the families he knows have over 5 wives and 50 children. Naturally I recoiled a little bit and thought of what that must be like. One in fifty children, each with the same father, it seemed impossible.

However, I took a moment to reflect on this. In class we were told to not view things the way they were. We were told to question why we felt a certain way and to understand these feelings. Looking back at this moment, I realize that it seemed weird to me not because I had decided it was odd, but because I had been told it was odd. But, that is a deeper conversation for another time.

Back to the father of 50, he was a very wealthy man and had built his own apartment tower to house each of his families. The tower was divided by floors with each family having their own floor. I was much more content when I heard he was taking care of his families, as I was afraid he simply had sired a lot of children with no means of supporting them. That being said, this was a point where I truly began to grasp how different our worldviews are.

At this point Hussain seemed to shy away, I must have seemed too shocked by the story; I really hoped I hadn’t offended him. The next few minutes involved me trying to reconcile my ideas with Hussain’s. After a while I mentioned that my mother was in a family of 9 children and he seemed to perk back up. From this common ground we found it easy to compare how our family lives were fairly similar, if a bit different in ideology.

Productively Doing Nothing

I sat down this Saturday, determined to work on the numerous business projects that have been stressing me out, and found that I really had no motivation whatsoever. My attempt at productivity was quickly cut short by the million other things I could be doing, such as watching cat videos on YouTube, working on my time machine, or learning to play a zither. (Side Note, I believe a zither is a musical instrument but ill check on it)

After struggling for several hours to maintain my focus and be a good, dedicated student, I finally submitted to my slacking ID. (Yes! I knew that my psychology course would pay off!) I was, due to overwhelming, unforeseeable, and uncontrollable circumstances, stymied and thrown off from my original goal.

Anyway, the point is that I didn’t get any work done. I took the day off. Instead of worrying about my future career, something that my professors constantly remind me of with their homework assignments, (except for Dr. Williams of course, he always has his students complete meaningful homework assignments / Please don’t fail me!) I succumbed to the depths of despair that is slacking.

But was it really that bad? That is the question I have been asking myself this entire day. Was taking the day off to slake some of my unnecessary desires really a bad thing? As I am sitting here and writing this post, I have come to the realization that the answer is no, slacking off was not a bad thing.

This Sunday has been one of my most productive this school year. I woke up early, got a workout in, did lots of homework, and finished several aspects of the projects that had stressed me out so much the day before. Somehow, everything became manageable. No longer was I distracted and unable to focus. Instead my mind was sharp (admittedly due to having slept a decent amount the night before) and determined to finish my tasks for the day.

By being less productive (honestly that’s unfair, I did absolutely nothing on Saturday), I found that I had become more productive. I think that it all came down to letting my mind relax. Because I was focusing on doing too many different things, I couldn't do any of them. By allowing my mind to zone out and forget, I gained the ability to focus.

P.S. I did some extra research. CONFIRMED  A zither is a musical instrument.

Conversation Partner 2

Recently, I got to meet up with Hussain for the second, and highly anticipated, time. Once again Hussain wanted to meet in the Recreation Center at 2 o’clock on Wednesday at a specific table. Side Note, if there is one word that exemplifies the way Hussain thinks, its consistency. Walking up to meet him I had a severe feeling of Déjà vu. Not only was he studying the same book facing the same direction but he also was dressed in exactly the same clothes. Now, it is most likely an immense coincidence but these details were too funny not to notice (Plus it serves to make my post more dramatic J ) ( I also just learned that you are able to use smiley faces in blog posts)

Thinking this was as good a place to start as any, I decided to ask him about it. Laughing it off, he mentioned that he honestly hadn’t thought about it. Content with his answer, I approached the next most pressing question, “So… crazy weather huh?” Needless to say this struck a chord. Without warning, Hussain launched into a flurry of not so pleasant complaints about Texas weather. As he put it, “One moment it’s too hot, the next it is too cold! Why doesn’t it make up its mind?” Nodding in solemn agreement, I continued to complain about Texas’ hyperactive weather.

This was the “tipping point.” I know it sounds ridiculous and improbable but my one comment about the weather was the first time Hussain and I seemed to connect. Now I don’t mean that we were destined to meet or anything like that, but talking about the weather was the first true step we had taken to understand one another. In a way, our small talk led to a big change.

Moving past the small talk, we went on to discuss his county, Saudi Arabia, further. He mentioned that the population of his country was very young. The recent growth in Saudi Arabia, fueled by the massive oil wells found along the coasts, has led to an influx of Arabian immigrants. Unfortunately, there is really no other industry in Saudi Arabia other than oil, which is in itself highly automated and requires extensive training from its workers. In order to accommodate these new citizens and provide them with jobs, the Saudi government has expanded immensely. Hussain guessed that nearly half the total industry in his country is government owned and operated.

He went on to talk about how much he envies America for its more open style of government. In fact, I found myself attacking the US, while he attempted to defend it! This was an odd role reversal and made me reconsider my views on the US government. I am not saying that I should discount what I disagree with in our government, but I should appreciate the positive things within our government more.

After a few more minutes of talking, we decided to split up and meet again sometime this week.