Where you from?

My job has reduced me to once-a-week blogging. The company has all the bells and whistles to prevent me from doing anything other than work while at work - with the exception of Troublonia and Sassyass, I can read no blogs nor gmail nor any other fun sites. And last week I discovered that emails containing profanity are also blocked - Z tried to send me an email about the American election, an email that contained the words, Fuck Yeah. As Si says, we'll have to start spelling it phuck instead. Remind me to never work for a company that mistrusts its employees so overtly (temping doesn't count).

There's a man that sits near me with a North American accent. I found out the other day that he's from Canada - thank god I didn't just say, Where in the States are you from? I hear Canadians will turn you into a bear skin rug if you do that. I find his accent comforting and familiar. My ears are now primed to hear North American while I'm walking through the Melbourne streets - just like my ears pick up any Kiwi/Aussie accents while I'm in San Francisco. It's another reminder of how I'm neither one nor the other, but somewhere inbetween. Ameralian? Australican?

Z and I were discussing citizenship the other night and decided that what makes someone a certain nationality is when the actions of that country are embarrassing - when you feel vaguely responsible for the stupid things you read about on the news. I know that I've always felt that way about Australia - the Whites Only immigration policy, kowtowing to Bush's agenda, etc. - though it has faded in the last few years. But when Bush does something idiotic, I don't feel a sense of personal responsibility or shame. Despite what my passports might say, I am perhaps not yet truly American.

I am American enough to host Thanksgiving though. No way am I passing up on that holiday! We have to hold it on Saturday so that I have enough time to cook - I think the plan is to start on Wednesday night. Also on Saturday I get - no, have to vote. This will be a first for me - I have never in all my thirty years cast a vote in a political election. Will I feel more connected to this place afterwards? More ready to feel shame? Maybe. But I'm sure it's nothing a few pieces of pumpkin pie won't cure.