Jerry Springer kills brain cells. I admit, I watch Oprah. And I like it. About a month ago, Oprah did a special on what people in other other countries think of Americans. It wasn’t very pretty. She enlisted CNN correspondents around the globe in places such as the middle east, southeast asia, and western Europe to interview people and ask their thoughts. Apparently, we’re all slaves to our entertainment, rich and self-arrogant. And the one show that communicates to them what America is? Jerry Springer. So not only does Springer kill the brain cells of the at-work-at-five-get-home-at-lunchtime crowd such as myself, but it mauls the brain cells of our global neighbors as well. Books have never looked so good.
So does living outside of America, hopefully shedding my American identity. If I can learn enough of another language and speak it well enough, perhaps I can convince people I’m really not an American. I think the blue passport will be a dead giveaway though. I’ve had the “need to move somewhere new” itch since I left for Orlando a week ago. The first leg of my flight was a connecting international flight. It was nice to hear Dutch and German being spoken and to listen to the British accents surrounding me. I felt homesick — not so much for a place, but for a state of being. A global state of being. Where being an American is not the be-all end-all, but just another way to be. Where I can sit and get lost in the comfort of hearing other languages surrounding me. Where people converse with each other, instead of trying to impress each other with how important their mobile conversation is, pausing long enough to order their venti nonfat vanilla latte with extra whipped cream.
I’ve decided the problem with Americans is that there are too many ventis, too much nonfat, way too much vanilla, and too many extras.