Thursday, November 11, 2010

Sam's Theory of Canada.

I have a Theory of Canada: Canada does not actually exist. Well, at least not in THIS dimension. The way I see it, when we cross into (British) Canada from the US we are actually stepping into a parallel dimension or universe, however you want to call it. Canada is actually the United States in a different dimension, a dimension in which someone time traveled and stepped on a butterfly, thus changing the world in a minute yet tangible way. And sure, stepping on this butterfly didn't change history so drastically that now we all speak German or fly the Stars and Bars, but it did give us free health care, hockey and a few misspelled words.

Why am I picking on Canada? Because all of the other nations of the world are so vastly different--I include even England in that statement. But Canada? No, it seems to be too much like us to actually be an entirely different nation. As an American, walking around Canada everything feels extremely similar, entirely familiar, but with unsettling subtle differences. Therefore it must be a parallel dimension.

Then again, somewhere in Canada a 22 year old is writing that the United States is actually just Canada in a parallel universe.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

All British People Are Geniuses.

.

So there's a British guy in my British history class. I wish I could say that after a decade of obsessing over British TV, music and culture that I'd be immune to it, but I have to admit that everything that comes out of this guy's mouth seems like a brilliant idea. I mean, objectively speaking I know that the ideas coming out of his mouth are average, maybe good at best, but this doesn't seem to stop me and everyone else in the class (including the professor) from hanging on his every word. We girls are especially vulnerable to the Brit's unintentional charms, as on more than one occasion his contributions in class have been interrupted by a swooning sigh. Frankly, if this were still the era of corsets I think half of the class would be on the floor after a British-induced fainting spell.

I wonder if other English speaking countries (apart from the UK obviously) have this problem. Are Canadians as intrigued by British accents as we Americans are? Do South Africans think people with English accents are inherently smarter and better looking? I wish I could say we were discerning connoisseurs of British English, that the bonus in the perception of intelligence only applies to the Queen's English, but quite honestly I'm pretty sure we're drawn in even by Dick Van Dyke's rape of Cockney. Were we Americans to meet the real Bert I'm sure we'd think that, in spite of his filth-covered face, he's a brilliant looker.

For all I know my classmate is considered borderline retarded in his native England, and English women find him physically repulsive, but here in Illinois with his charming inability to correctly pronounce the letter "R," this guy is an Adonis who is one comment in British history class away from being nominated for a Nobel Prize. A Nobel Prize in what specifically, I'm not sure, but we Americans would find a way to create a category specially for this dude.

Now before anyone thinks I'm some sort of pervert, just know that I've had conversations about this with other girls in the class, and they've noticed it, too. One girl even admitted to spending most of class trying to compose English-flavored pickup lines to use on our classmate who is of the British persuasion...something about buttering crumpets. So there. Clearly there's at least one girl in class who is infinitely creepier than I am.

What I really find fascinating about this guy though is the fact that he seems completely bewildered. Much like someone who grew up in poverty only to win the lottery, it seems to me that he grew up in English schools, believing his was mediocre in both brains and looks, only to come to America and find that--for some reason completely beyond the scope of his English understanding--EVERYONE seems suddenly to be obsessed with his thoughts, opinions, and comments. The look in his eyes reminds me of the moment in Harry Potter when Harry finally learns that he's not a lame, scrawny kid with glasses, but rather a friggin' WIZARD. And I bet my classmate silently swears to himself that no one in England must ever know about the jackpot that is America, because an influx of Englishmen might diminish his new-found powers.

To be honest, I'm afraid the exact opposite is going to happen when (if) I go to England. Sort of like what being in Israel was like, except at least in Israel I had the language barrier to hide behind. But I mean, if we think the English sound intelligent, then that must mean they think we're idiots. Here in Illinois when I talk I seem reasonably intelligent, but next year in grad school in England (assuming I get in somewhere), when I share my opinion in my native American accent, will my classmates silently imagine a barefooted yokel playing a banjo?



On an rational level, surely they'll know I'm from the big, hippie city of Los Angeles, but I'm not so sure that'll stop them from imagining the song "The Mississippi Squirrel Revival" whenever I talk. Granted, they probably don't even know that song. Oh Jesus, why do I know that song?