My conscience is itchy. I need to scratch it. I think I have to explain that last post about Ingibjörn. He’s one of the second year students that I’ve come to know over the last few months. He played a little trick on me and says that he later felt bad about doing it. So, I posted that last post about how I killed him and fed him to my crayfish. When I was writing it, I was laughing because I really like that kind of dark humor. Maybe, as Paul (who’s known me for years) suggested, I’m not a well person. In fact, I feel it’s pretty safe to confirm that suggestion. Why, even on 9/11 my reaction did not become one of saddness until I got home and saw what was happening on tv. When I heard about the first plane my reaction was to laugh and say, “what kind of foolish pilot was that,” and then go back to work. How does one manage to accidentally fly into one of the only two things poking up into the sky?! When the second plane hit, my reaciton was, “This is far above average”. But even then I didn’t shut off the saw right away and I kept on working until the BBC, which I was listening to in my headphones, began reporting it in more detail. I only mention this because my first reaction is often one of dark humor.
So, the reason for this post: the truth. The truth is that I didn’t actually kill Ingibjörn. Nor would I kill him for something as trivial as an SMS. I feel very lucky about having gotten to know him a bit and hope that we can be friends for a while. This Fall, I met Ingi and four of his friends: Sindri (whose name is really Óskar), Marinó, Hrönn, and Halla. These five are some of my favorite people in the biology department. I think that one of the basic problems with the world is that not enough praise is given where it’s due. So now that I’ve posted this evil message about killing someone, I want to make things right by publishing a proper account of Ingi and his little buddies through description of my experience of them.
I often have trouble connecting with people over here. I’m not sure why. It’s partly my own strange ideas of what people should be like or what I like to do or don’t like to do or maybe it’s the fact that I don’t quite understand the language well enough to use it to full effect to expres myself or whatever. But for whatever the reason, I rely on my wife and family for most of my social life these days. It’s good to be in school where I’m surrounded by people who have some of the same interests as I do. Biology in general and animal life in particular have been my main interest since I was a little kid. So, I have something to talk about with a lot of these people who are now around me everyday. This quintet is, I think reflective of the hopes we can put in the future of humanity. I know it sounds like I’m just trying to beg forgiveness or get on someone’s good side. But this is the simple truth. Here we have five young people with hopes for a future and the drive and intelligence to make their hopes become reality. They are intelligent and funny. They don’t seem to have a lot of prejudices clouding their judgement or closing their minds. They live their lives the way they feel best, accepting difference in other people as a part of life and regardless of what others think of them. They work together to get their projects done and are willing to help others when asked. They aren’t arrogant of their strengths and don’t seem to be overly preoccupied with their weaknesses.
I’ve been somewhat pessimistic for years-I suppose since I was a teenager. I’ve never had much hope for our race. But I’m repeatedly surprised by Icelandic people. There‘s a positive quality to the thinking and actions of people here that one does not find in the US. In fact, one of the things that make Icelandic women so attractive is that their eyes don’t have that beaten-dog appearance I see in the eyes of so many Americans. They have a self-confidence that a minority of Americans have. I’ve heard all my life about the American Dream and I’ve always thought it was a myth told by rich people to make their kids immune to the complaints of the poor. But I find that sort of spirit in Icelanders. Everything seems possible. People are not so affraid to try new things the way I and most of the people I know in the States are. I’m trying to change myself to be more like them. Enrolling in university here was one step in that process.
I figure that I can learn from everyone around me. People like Erna and Hlynur Bárðarsson (sorry if it’s spelled wrong) have been teaching me to be in a better mood (though they don’t know it and it doesn’t always work-like when I’m working with R!). Through his frank honesty Allan has taught me a lot about the way other people see me and because of that I’ve tried to change some of the way I am to make myself a better person. Sigga and a few others have made me realize that I had a pretty extreme prejudice against women who look like beauty pageant winners and washed me clean of that crap. Then, I have these five second year students. They are each unique but they fit together because of this open-minded, easy-going attitude. I haven’t figured out what I can learn from them quite yet-usually that’s something that comes only years after the learning starts-but I’m sure there is something I’ll get from them.
I guess my point in this is just to call attention to the fact that I really like to hang around with these people. I don’t have any problem saying that. But I feel somewhere in the back of my mind that this is exactly the kind of thing one is not supposed to say. Do I sound gay? If so, is that so bad? I hold myself back often-I like to refer to the filter. The filter is between my mouth and my thoughts. My wandering thoughts. Not all of them are properly worked over and mulled before they start making their way to my mouth or my fingers to type them out on the keyboard and I count on the filter to sift through and block the thoughts that have no business seeing the light of day-or the drum of someone’s ear. Sometimes that filter slips to the side and something falls out. Sometimes when that happens I actually realize what’s about to happen and quickly shove it back into place-clipping a thought in mid flow. In those instances, I’ve sarted to say something and then stop and laugh. The laugh is the same nervous/relieved laugh of someone who has just caught a falling vial of nitroglycerine just before it hit the floor. Some of you have been witness to that. Sometimes I don’t get the filter in place in time. A particular joke about a cancer patient comes to mind; that one cost me a friend who’s father was losing his battle with cancer.
This filter was removed during the gaming sessions in college. That’s where Paul got know me. That’s why he knows just how imbalanced things can be in this brain box of mine. I’m getting better with the filter. But it’s always harder to get it set to sift out the compliments that form but can’t be said because of social norms and rules. I’m not allowed to compliment someone’s body form-excpet to say, “Have you lost weight?” I can’t say to a male friend of mine, “You’ve got beautiful eyes,” without him moving his chair farther away-or worse, closer to mine. I don’t remember the last time I heard someone say, “You’re a really great friend,” without it being a joke.
So, Ingi, Halla, Hrönn, Sindri, and Marinó, I’m sorry if it bothers you that I publish an article on the internet about the fact that I like and respect you all. But I can’t help it. I think you deserve the compliment.
And, before you ask, no I’m not in a 12-step program!
