Kiss Me, I’m Scottish or a List of Accents to Try While Drunk

Here’s the rub: I have this accent. Granted, I’m not Scottish, nor does it really sound like a Scottish accent, really. But I have it, and it’s mine, and it has been evolving since its first use about ten years ago at Universal Studios. Basically, I spent an entire day with my mom as her Irish daughter and got away with it. Then in the last few years, I noticed the accent crossed countries and molded into this Scottish thing.

So with my new-found Scottish appeal, I joined my mother and her friend at SeaWorld about a year ago and she asked me to put on the voice for the day. After several awkward phone calls, a whale, a fake Scottish father, and 50,376 fish; my mother’s friend, let’s call her Maureen, believed the whole ridiculous story.

This potential believability is why I still enjoy having days where I can pretend to be from somewhere else besides Florida. Problem is, some people think it’s awfully strange; I just think it’s a little risky, a wee bit fun, and a way to live another life if just a moment.

And for those of you who are willing to attempt this feat in a more acceptable setting…

Accents (or voices) to use while intoxicated:
New York*
Jewish grandmother*
Bahstan (Boston)**
British (and Cockney)*
Canadian**
Mexican*
California surfer-speak (it’s rad, dude)**
Southern belle*
French**
Ghetto fabulous
Australian**
Mickey Mouse
Texan
Italian**
Russian**
Yoda**
Whale (“You know, I speak whale”)*
German
Greek**
Donald Duck
Chinese
Swedish**
Chewbacca
Jamaican (also known as the Ms. Cleo)*
Shakespearean*

*attempted, slightly successfully
**tried, but failed

This, of course, is a limited list. Please feel free to share your own.

Warning/prayer: please avoid being offensive. Imitate with taste.

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A Kiss to Send Us Off

I moved to Boston from Miami. Long trip. Hours spent staring at fingernails, shoes, ceilings. I meet some people, I dine with the deaf, I gaze out windows at starless nights and trees that look like wooden witches, elongated branches that stretch toward wherever. And then I get there, to Boston. Movers delay delivery, so I sleep on an air mattress; it deflates, so then I sleep on the floor. A few days later, I unpack books, elephant figurines, sandals, and hooded sweaters. I check off my list of things I’ll need for cold and wet weather:

Boot-cut jeans
Leggings
Tights
Tall boots
Cardigan (2)
Earmuffs
Gloves (fingerless, leather and snow)
Patterned rain boots
Poofy (or down) jacket
Rain coat with a hood
Warm socks (both short and long)
Scarf, preferably wool
Snow boots
Snow hat
Sweater (hooded and zip-front)
Thermal tees
Thermies (or warm underwear)
Trench coat
Wind-resistant umbrella (added later, after two broken mini umbrellas)
Uggs (completely necessary, though unattractive)

I kept adding to the list with my black ink pen poised, a knife ready to carve into Boston one item at a time.

Weeks after moving in, a ladybug lands on my headboard. I look upon rust-colored leaves, then branches, then icicles that cling. The weather fluctuates. The rain tumbles from the sky. Then sunshine creeps over the Green Monster and onto the Common, where I lie and bathe in the 70-degree heat and smile; the world feels better somehow and I know it.

That is the best summary I can give for my first school year in Boston. I moved to Beantown in August of 2009 and have just been working, loving, procrastinating, worrying, delaying, thinking, laughing, writing, trusting, mistrusting, hating, reading, and living. Life up here has been easy and it has not been easy. Life has been complicated and strangely simple. I look forward to each new day with hesitance and delight, because every day is part of a broader effort to grow up, gain independence, and create a life; because, trust me, I’ve barely been living. I take little risk and am not proud of it.

This blog will not be my life, but will give glimpses and advice (warning: I’m not an expert) on life changes, moving from hot to cold, and just dealing with the everyday struggle of being in a new place. I will attempt to take risks, visit places I’ve never been to, converse with people I may never have wanted to know. I will share my passions, my lyrics, my poems, and favorite quotes. I realize blogs evolve, they change. But for now, I hope to give a little insight into a life of someone who, well, does not live on the edge but wants to give it the old college try.

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