There are many things I love about living nearly smack dab in the middle of this country… probably enough to fill an entire post. But there are some things that I definitely wish were different.
One of those wishes is completely ridiculous, but it’s still MY wish. I wish I had an accent. I’m not sure exactly WHICH accent I’d want, but anything would be better than my plain, flat, midwest-not-really-there accent.
Some companies like this flat non-accent so much, they base their telemarketing divisions here. I live in what very well may be the telemarketing capital of the world because of this fact. Big deal. So what? People can understand me… and, sometimes, that’s not necessarily to my advantage. *ahem*
The other disadvantage to my absence of accent is I’m very susceptible to other people’s accents. If you’re from the southern US, and you speak to me for a period of more than 5 seconds, I will immediately and most subconsciously adopt your accent. I’m not making fun of you… I promise! I can’t help it… it just happens.
I spent two weeks in Great Britain once… about a week in England and another week in Scotland. Oh, that was a FUN TRIP!!! Nearly every day, I had a new accent! The Queen’s English Proper, Cockney, Liverpoolian, Scottish brogue… I tell you, I was in heaven! (I know these aren't the actual terms for these accents. They're my terms. And this is my blog. Live with it.)
Traveling to the east and west coasts of the US is always interesting for me. I rarely pick up on a thick Brooklyn accent, although I find it absolutely fascinating. New England vowels form very easily for me, though, as do the surfer-speak and valley-speak of certain parts of the west coast.
Oh, and all you Aussies… LOVE IT. I can’t fake the way you speak, but I’m sure if I spent much time there, I would pick it up immediately. The Farm Boy agreed that our next cruise will be heading that way, so I’m most optimistic!
The odd part about where I live is that, if you drive 50 minutes south of my home, you’ll hear the southern accent start to pick up a little. My ex-husband, who was from the southern part of our state, couldn’t say “chicken” in less than three syllables. Travel about 50 minutes north, and folks get a little more Scandinavian with every vowel, don’t you know… you betcha!
So that’s it. I’m a boring articulator. But know that, if we ever meet in person, you’ll understand every word I say… and I might unknowingly steal your accent.