Currently Chasing: The end of the accent

You ever notice that when you visit somewhere, depending on how long you stay, and how much you love where you’re visiting, you sometimes come back with an accent from that place?

Well that is happening to me. Slowly but surely, I am losing … California. I mean, not totally. I still have the classic over processed, bimboie look and the cheerleader smile, but something is missing. People from California do not have an accent. They just talk. There is nothing distinct or stand-outish about California speak.

There was a moment back in the 80’s when people from Cali would overuse the word “like,” but now the world had adopted that bad habit so we can stop claiming it as a staple of our state. And don’t even get me started on the OH MY GOD phenomenon. It’s become so popular that it’s now an acronym. And it’s widely used and easily translated no matter where you’re from. And we’ve definitely come a long way since gagging each other with spoons.

But in the past few weeks I’ve been asked a hand full of times, “Where are you from?”

This is not a question I am accustomed to fielding. Most people look at me, always happy, always smiling, always fake blonde, and naturally assume I am high. Or from California. But all of a sudden I’m speaking with an accent and it is throwing everyone off.

You see, a good friend of mine, and a handful of my cousins live in Buffalo. Since coming back from Afghanistan, I’ve gone to visit there three or four times. The ticket is cheap and the company is great. But something happens to my voice box when I’m there. And when I return, I sound like a Buffalonian. And sometimes even a God Damn Canadian.  I haven’t pronounced the word car right in months.

I’ve always wanted an accent. Maybe something British or Irish. I could even get down with a Massachusetts or New York city accent. Something hard core. Something unmistakable.  Something that instantly turns me into a bad ass. What I’m not down with is just occasionally pronouncing random words with an accent making people wonder where the fuck I’m from. Like, wow, what the fuck is that you’re speaking? I can’t tell where the hell you’re from? Freak.

I love my Buffalo family, and I love the way they talk, but mostly because they own it. I can’t own the accent because it’s not mine. I feel like an imposter. Like Madonna. Visiting London does not make you a Brit. Good gawd wacky legwarmer lady.

I know what you all are thinking. I’m being way too damn dramatic about this accent thing. But what do you expect. I’M FROM CALIFORNIA.