I’ve probably mentioned it before, but a large part of the English-speaking Western world actually believes that Americans don’t speak English. So, what exactly do we Americans speak? American!
Look, I’ll give it to the Brits that perhaps their English is the more proper and correct version. They did, after all, father the language. We Americans then took it and simply made it… better. Ha, well, at least in my mind, we made it more efficient.
A big difference between American English and British English is the spelling of various words. I like to think that by leaving out unnecessary letters, we just make it easier. Think colour (British English) and color (American English). The u is simply an added chore to write or type.
Another difference is with the pronunciation of certain words, and I also like to think that we tend to sway on the efficiency side. Take the word mobile. In British English, it is pronounced like mo-by-ul, but in American English, it is commonly pronounced as mo-bull. The latter definitely takes a little less to say the same thing, right?
I’ve heard it all from the Brits, especially when some learned last year that I would be teaching American English in Ukraine. They always stated how stupid it was to only focus on American English, but the truth is that American English is generally thought of as the language of business. And, it even turned out that my short time spent virtual teaching Korean kids after first arriving in Australia involved American English as well. Yes, American English rocks, but since the Brits do have that whole “inventing the language thing”, I generally give their side of the argument a point from the start.
However, what I do have a problem with is when the friggin’ Aussies come around and try to say things like Australian English is better than American English because they happen to keep in all those crazy unnecessary letters and such.
What I’d like to know is if they have actually heard themselves talk because there is something silly going on down here in their lingo, and it makes it definitely different from the original. So, who are they to say their language is better, right?!
Fair dinkum, mate.
A Language Barrier
I always wondered what it would be like to date someone that spoke another language. It is quite interesting to see people in relationships with foreigners that barely speak a lick of English because I feel that so much of a relationship relies on the ability to communicate. If I couldn’t tell my partner exactly how I felt… I can’t even imagine! But, somehow, some people make it work.
Now, we may not speak completely different languages, my boyfriend and I, but you could say that we speak different dialects of English. You would be surprised how many times I find myself asking him the meaning of an Aussie word or phrase, or just to repeat himself because I couldn’t quite catch it the first time. Yep, we do have a language barrier between us. Here is one such instance:
When I moved into my new apartment, I needed to search out a mattress. We thought we would go to this foam shop he knew about because he heard they were quite comfortable for the price. To check out the exact address, we decided to do a quick web search and go from there.
I was manning the keyboard with Patrick by my side. He started by spitting out the store’s name, which sounded something like “Clock Robba”. Seriously, I had no freaking idea what he was saying. Dumbfounded, I looked at him in confusion as I tried to piece together whether “Clock Robba” could actually be the name for a foam shop.
My fingers couldn’t even begin to type because I honestly was so confused.
“How do you spell that? C l o c k?” I asked.
“No,” said Pat. “Clock like the name silly.”
“What the…?”
“C l a r k!” he spelled.
Oh. my. goodness. I really had no idea. We laughed and I typed in “Clark” as was necessary, and then was shocked again when I had to spell out “Robba”.
Long story short, I was so confused because it was actually a store called “Clark Rubber”, but we just had a failure to communicate. True story!
Now, sources say this going barefoot behavior could be linked to the beach culture, or more recently to the movement that going barefoot is just a healthier and more natural option.
Of all the places I have traveled, you have not once come to visit me.
What?! It’s AUSTRALIA! It’s like some people’s dream vacation to go to Australia, and here I am asking you, and offering you a free place to stay in the process, and you don’t really have a desire to go.
Why is it that everyone (except me – thanks) in my family has flown to Las Vegas, but they cannot get off their duffs to fly to Oz? I know, I know – Oz and Vegas are not the same thing – but there are casinos in Australia, too!
While reading the free mX paper on the train home from work, I came across an interesting article. It explained that even though insects have tiny brains, they may actually be surprisingly smarter than we ever thought. And, get this, they might even have a sense of self!
I hate bugs more than anything. Highest on that list are spiders, and that sometimes reaches a level of irrational fear. But, any buggy type thing will do it to me. I came home from work last night to find my apartment being invaded by bugs. Ok… well… it was only 2 bugs, but they were not my favorites. First of all, there was a big cockroach on the wall, and it was a sad sight to see because it was the first one that has been spotted in my sweet pad up in Killara. It nested itself high on the wall and pretty much sat there all night, but I just wasn’t happy with its presence because where there’s one, there’s hundreds 
The night progressed and the gigantic cockroach was still up on my wall. Patrick said he was going to take care of it, but then he acted like it was no longer there. I said, “Fine, I’ll take care of this,” and marched into the living room with spray in hand. I stood on a chair and started attacking it, but it decided to hop around and then proceed to fly directly at me – landing on me in the process. I screamed like a little girl and frantically danced around the room trying to get the freaking thing off me. Thankfully, Pat came back in and took it from there.
However, there is one topic that always gets on my nerves, and that is when guys always talk about the exotic foreigner and how much hotter they are than other women.
As soon as my girl friends in Ukraine found out I was going to Australia and had a nice Aussie man to hopefully meet up with while there, they were immediately jealous. It was a jealousy that all the American guys there were soon envious of, but I’m pretty sure they can all relax. I may have had a love for a good Australian guy in my day, but, hey, I’m not so sure those stereotypical visions in my head of how they typically are perceived are actually a splice of reality.
I had never heard about Movember until Australia. Movember is when the entire month of November is spent growing a “mo”, which is short for moustache, in support of men’s health issues. You get donations that go towards helping prostate cancer and depression in men, and a really good excuse to grow a wicked stache.
I used to make some videos every now and again for my blog, which I’d like to get back into doing, and I generally promote them on vimeo and also upload them to YouTube. I wouldn’t say I’m a successful video maker – they rarely get views, I make them with my pocket camera, and they never get comments… except for my Kyrgyz related videos.
I made it to Haberfield, and what some people don’t know is that Haberfield is also like a Little Italy. It has authentic Italian restaurants with delicious Italian food and Italian accents, and even authentic Italian cannoli.
If I could be any sweet, I would be a cannoli. My pastry shell would be the perfect level of crispness and chewiness in order to promote proper eatability, and it would definitely not be overcooked. I would have a light dusting of powdered sugar to dress myself up a bit. My ricotta filling would be sufficiently cheesy and probably consist of chocolate chips, but not very many as they need to leave the cream as the dominant taste. And, most importantly, my filling would meet in the middle, leaving no gaps, no holes, no empty spaces in the pastry shell.
