"Poshi-doodle-doo" (or, "What happens when you spend 7 weeks in one person's constant presence")

It started with the faux British accent. Hearing a foreign language around you all the time does funny things to your psyche, I admit. After a long day of interviews I'd be thinking in Chinglish...but Daniel instead has adopted a faux British accent. After the accent came the nicknames. "Pointy-head" was the first one, but I really just didn't like that one. After a day or two of being called "pointy-head" I decided to cure him of the habit by pure Skinnerian conditioning--every time he said "pointy-head" (or "pointy-nose" or "pointy"-anything for that matter), I whapped him. So a new nickname had to be chosen. "Poshi"emerged as the winner. Consequently, it has undergone several mutations--"Poshi-doodle-doo," "Poshi-snosh," and just "Snosh" are just some of its several forms. All are spoken in the faux British accent.

I was on dorm staff my sophomore year at Sewanee (I know this doesn't sound related, but hang on--I'll make the connection), and we had to do a whole training course on roommate conflict. We had all been told of course that it's dangerous to room with your best friend--you might not be friends at the end of a year living together in a small space. And we had been trained in how to talk to roommates about roommate issues, how to advise the little freshmen, etc., so I came into this 7-week roommate arrangement with my brother well prepared. And too, my brother and I actually like each other and enjoy each other's company. We fought some as kids, but mostly grew out of that. Of course, fighting hit an all-time low when we were no longer living in the same house. That could have been a source of worry as we began our 7-week trip living not in the same house, but the same room. And not talking to anyone else very much. But I figured, you know, we're both semi-mature young adults (tee-hee-hee) or at least semi-mature college students, we should be able to handle this.

And handle it we have. The only real arguments have been about my navigational skills (Me: "You try reading the bus map!" DTB: "Duh, I can't, it's in Chinese!" Me: "Oh you're kidding! Give me a break, this is not exactly easy!!"); mostly the problem is that when I have time, I don't mind meandering for awhile, seeing the sights so to speak, before arriving at the destination. Daniel, however, is a git-er-done type person. He wants to have a destination, know exactly how to get there, and go, no detours, thank you. So this has caused a little friction. I should admit here, I once led him on a very long kind of hot meandering walk through the streets of Shanghai in search of--wait for it--a bookstore. I messed up the navigation pretty badly that time. But only that time. Overall, I think I did a pretty good job of getting us around, if I do say so myself. And if you've never looked at a Shanghai bus map, I can assure you, it's quite complicated and all in Chinese.

So basically what happens is Daniel complains, or makes snide comments, one after the other, endlessly, in the faux British accent. It grates on my nerves. And I tell him so. And he replies that meandering, or shopping, or waving to Chinese babies, or whatever it is that I'm doing that he's making snide comments about, gets on his nerves too, so we're even. He told me yesterday (walking, on a kind of hot day) "You know, when we get back to the US, I don't think we're going to need any more brother-sister bonding time for awhile." Yeah, ok. But he also tells me a lot, "You know, you're gonna miss me when this trip is over." He's probably right about that too.