Tuesday, November 13, 2007
People often ask me what I consider my home to me. England? No. Holland? No. America No. “Then where?” comes the inevitable reply of perplexion. I wish I knew. Amongst the creole of standard English and American English, somewhere the answer must lurk. But as of yet, I have been unable to discover it. But that’s not a bad thing. This lack of identity enables me to view the world from any perspective, reflecting on the maladies of George W. Bush without so much as a glimmer of patriotic embarrassment, or criticizing the island mentality of England without feeling guilty or traitoric. Yet there are definite drawbacks. For example, there is no state where I am not subject to bigotism or racism. But that is a small price to pay for what is, in my eyes, the great honor of tri-nationality.