there are things that make one feel more american

one is moving away from america.

i suppose if i were an orange in a bunch of oranges, i wouldn’t feel very orangey until you put me on a plate of sausages.

and apparently, when you put an orange on a plate of sausages, the orange cries whenever she watches a television program about, say, stephen fry visiting orange groves and talking about how peculiar and maddening but utterly charming they are.

another thing that makes one feel more american is moving away right as one is actually happy about the country.

i got this strange tingling sensation in november. i finally identified it as pride. which i don’t know that i’ve ever really allowed myself to feel about an elected official. it wasn’t just that the guy i voted for actually won this time. [and a quick aside for anyone who questions my right to participate in an election right before moving out of the country – i’m still an american citizen, paying american taxes, and following the ‘money talks’ rhetoric of my birthplace, he’s my president, too.] i’m a democrat. i voted for kerry, but even if he had made bush a one-termer i don’t think i would have been able to describe my reaction as pride. i wasn’t proud of clinton, i wasn’t proud of gore, and i certainly am not proud of nader. why am i proud of obama?

remember when bush was campaigning against gore, and people really got miffed that he was expected to know the names of leaders and countries and stuff? like, foreign policy crap. and many times over, the average american joe on the street was interviewed by the journalist guys in suits, and average joe would say ‘well, hell, i don’t know that stuff either. he’s just a regular guy, just like me, and i like that.’

fuck. that.

i want the person in charge of the country to know a hell of a lot more about a lot of things in this life than i do. i’m tiny. my daily life is limited to very small things. i would like to go about those things knowing that i wouldn’t be able to beat the president at trivial pursuit. i want to know that the guy in charge knows so much that every decision he makes probably takes a little too long because he’s weighing all the sides and options. because the decisions he makes are literally life and death. i don’t want someone who’s going to shrug and laugh it off. i want someone who will be better, as a human and a leader, than i will ever be.

american politics has very slowly turned into electing people out of fear. i blame lee atwater. what you do these days is, you present something that a majority of americans are scared of and say that if the other guy is elected that scary something will happen. it polarizes the nation. and it makes people not expect much, beyond safety from that one scary thing. that’s how bush got reelected. he held up gay couples and said ‘isn’t this icky?’ and even people who hated the war, disagreed with bush’s performace, and even disliked him as a man, voted for him. because yes, they thought. that’s icky.

i know conservatives in the u.s. call obama supporters naive, like we’ve voted in a fairy tale instead of a politician. what they’re  seeing but not understanding is that we voted for him not out of fear, but because he seems like someone who’s going to hold us to a higher standard as citizens. not only of the country, but of the world. you can laugh all you want at ‘hope’. but the important part is that it’s not ‘fear’.

i’m going to cry tomorrow when i watch the inauguration. i’ll be a little bit homesick, and a little overwhelmed at the decision my fellow countrymen have made, but more than anything else i’ll be really confused at how much i identify myself as an american now. now that it seems like so many americans agree that it’s going to be awesome looking up to someone for a change.

familial

i’ve never really identified as american.

during my many visits overseas, when someone asked where i was from, i’d answer ‘chicago’.

‘oh, you’re american!’

‘yes.’ i suppose. if you’re going to get technical about it.

‘i love new york,’ they’d respond. which is kind of like going up to julia roberts and telling her you loved ‘when harry met sally’. it has nothing to do with me and is vaguely insulting.

europeans rarely understand how large and diverse the u.s. is. and as a native chicagoan, i know that few people outside of my city recognize the middle child complex we have.

new york is the older, sophisticated sister. she married well and she makes condescending remarks about your reading material. when other countries ask ‘how are the girls?’ the first anecdote told is always about new york. with whom she’s had lunch, how well her new play is being received, how her dog was just given some prize for something or other. nobody really criticizes her, because anything said is written off as jealousy. and it makes you look really ugly to be jealous of new york.

los angeles is the wild baby sister. she’s too blonde and too tan and frequently a total fucking mess. you get calls from her in the middle of the night. raging wild fires this, falling into the ocean that. her santa ana mood swings are overlooked because she’s just so cute and charming and everybody’s pulling for her to really make it work this time! people see what she’s wearing and chuckle and wag their heads slightly. ‘that’s just so kooky,’ they say. ‘where she gets her ideas i’ll never know, but i’ll be damned if she doesn’t look fantastic!’

chicago pushes up its practical yet unflattering glasses. we could lose the weight if we wanted but you know what? that would be playing into their game. that would be competing with the other sisters. and there is no competing. but every once and a while when we were growing up, some eager suitor would arrive at the door looking for new york or los angeles and the sister wouldn’t be ready for their date yet. so we’d invite that guy in, and we’d sit on the sofa and chat with him, and he’d say, ‘wow, you’re really funny and easy to talk to.’ and we’d smile at one another. but then the intended sister would appear, all shiny and right and smelling pretty, and we would be forgotten.

tomorrow i get on a plane to england. it’s a one-way trip, and one that i’m expecting to be permanent. there, i can only imagine my familial role will be that of the embarrassing cousin. a little too loud, a little too emotional, a little too…too.

the man waiting for me on the other side of the atlantic once said to his mother, ‘it’s a good thing grandad is dead, so he won’t have to see me with a yank.’

this is both funny and a pretty good indication of what i expect to experience during my time as an expatriate.

tonight i listen to joy division and take a sleeping pill. tomorrow i get on a plane. friday, i am officially the grown cousin sat at the children’s table.

also, i plan to use ‘expat’ as a verb.

let’s go.