Synaptic

Writing Objective: International students were to write weekly journal entries documenting their experience of American culture

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First impressions

“Once you’ve seen the US you’re prepared to die” my friend wrote to me in one of his emails. I’m still wondering what this is supposed to mean. But according to Forrest Gump, life is like a box of candy … you never know what you’re gonna get…

At this very moment I’m quite sure of what life has to offer. A lot of new impressions, which keep on confusing me and put me in this very nice stale resembling a slight intoxication. And I’m quite sure that this intoxication is keeping me from getting soaked up by the culture shock. Since it’s not the first time for me in the US the culture seems to be somewhat familiar, which doesn’t keep me from walking on US territory (to use some military terms which seem to be quite apt for describing this place which all the people who love stars and snipes call their home) absolutely bamboozled over certain aspects.

The main difference from sweet old Austria for me is the college life. The idea of having a campus spaced together like Central’s reminds me of a lunatic asylum. Everything is provided here, and students don’t have to do anything more than read books and chew on what the teacher said the other day. Students are like cows. Not thinking on their own. just reproducing what others said.

The next astonishing difference is all this fake happiness around here. “Be happy, built the community. Thank you, I don’t want marzipan. I’d rather have plain chocolate. I prefer sincerity. When I feel down, I want to have the freedom to walk on campus without my mouth forced to grin. To play the grinning cat is not my part in life. Don’t get me wrong here. I like this place a lot (though/as being European / I wouldn’t be so quick with my judgments to say that I simply love it, neither would I die for it…).

There is this general assumption that you think of all the world as centered around your own ethnicity, at least pretending that your own culture is the best one. In the knowledge of this theory, I try to see the world. I know that I’m preoccupied and try to overcome this.

There are things I actually and truly love about this place. It’s first of all the space. The picture of being on a highway going straight on for miles and miles. This seems to be the incorporation of the American dream. A dream, which might turn into a nightmare someday. A dream, which also has the power to change the world for the better.

As I’m writing this down I realize that all the impressions which I have made here have nearly been overwhelming me. I’m sure that in the course of this year I’ll figure out what I truly love about this country, sincerely love and not only pretend to cherish. America claims to be the lard of the uncounted opportunities. I myself want to pick out some of them.

On each and every new day you get to put your hand in the box of chocolates again. Yet I disagree with Forest Gump on this very point. You do know in a way what you get. since you don’t put your hand in the box with your eyes closed.

Concluding this piece of Austrian-American rambling I want to come up with another movie image from Eyes Wide Shut, the latest and last movie directed by Kubrick. This movie also connects the two worlds I’m trapped in Austria and America. Schnitzler wrote the book and Kubrick turned it into a movie. The past four weeks here in the US were like walking round with my eyes wide shut. But I’m sure that the day will come (and this is a formal announcement) when my eyes are wide open.

A car like a life

When you are abroad, away from the place, which you call “home-home-home”… the ups and downs in your life is much more intense… This week was another example of that. I don’t think dial I’m a person who would be labeled as “manic-depressive’… and when I’m down I’m actually just pissed off by simply everything…

Tuesday was (he ultimate point of being pissed off with the IS culture. But I found a cure. A cure, which simply means human relations. I decided to take the ultimate daily car trip to either HyVee or Walmart’s… I don’t know how it came about but I ended up going there with an American girl to whom I hadn’t talked much before. Those two things just gave me hack the joy of US culture. Driving in a car, which is so big blue and exactly my age is the fulfillment of the American dream. I have never owned a car before. And now” it is this one. incorporating all my wishes: Dark blue, the color of the sea 5000 meters under the surface, as big as two European cars and therefore simply special, and a 1976 Lincoln… Driving in it, or simply riding gives me the feeling of liberty… Going on the wide streets with the radio turned on, listening to some American country songs (actually I’m just the opposite of a country-music fan, but in this car, everything changes), whistling along, dial ling a little bit in English, looking out of the window and seeing this vast, slightly hilly land, the road going straight on, like in a movie… All these things may sound very simple, but this is what gets me to realize that I’m in a different country…

After returning from Walmart and delivering all the goods, which I had happily purchased (a bottle of water, Santa Claus wrapping paper, a notebook… and a shower gel) I went to my room with this girl… and we spent a good deal of the night talking. (Communicating is cleansing and renewing… you get out of your —sometimes-very narrow own little world, and dive into the depth of a new eyes… amazed about what you hadn’t seen before, what you refused to see, or simply forgot that you were able to see and enjoy it…

The United States probably isn’t the best country on this planet, nor is Austria, and I strongly doubt that there is am country, which would merrily deserve the title “best of all.” After all. that is not what 1 am looking for… Though, if I think about it. who doesn’t look for heaven on earth? After all, it is fair enough to answer the question. “Is this heaven? ” with “No, it is Iowa.”