American Psycho

My wife took her oath of citizenship today. She's been a British ex-pat for about 15 years, and probably never would have applied for citizenship if she hadn't married me.

On our first date, I asked her if she'd considered applying for citizenship given the amount of time she'd spent in the states. Yes, she'd thought about it. She said, "I'm English." New topic.

But her applying became inevitable once we got married. We both looked at this process as a clerical issue. U.S. citizenship allows her to vote, and she won't lose our children or have issues with estate business if I take a dirt nap.

To others in the courtroom, though, today was huge — a day filled with hope, promise, and opportunity. I'm not saying we don't feel those things, but an upper middle class British woman is not going to view U.S. citizenship the same way as someone who fled an African or Middle Eastern country ruled by some gun-toting zealot assbag.

To me, she will always be English, and I hope she feels the same way. I don't want her to stop being English — that's a part of her identity. You don't just turn in your identity like a rented movie. She regrets losing her accent and misses home every day, and I'm unable to help. I want the loss to stop there.

All day I've wondered what being American really means, and not in a Lee Greenwood sort of way. For so many people at the courthouse, this was one of the happiest days of their lives. Wherever they were born, wherever they lived, they chose to become Americans, and so many embraced the day. One guy kept standing up to make sure his wife was taking pictures. Lots of clapping, a few tears, hugs, laughter...a huge day. I felt more for other people than for my wife and me.

See, we're cautious and reluctant to trust. Knowing what I know about some of my countrymen and women, I mostly hope that America doesn't take a big crap on these new citizens. We are a materialistic bunch, and far too many of us don't take kindly to foreigners — naturalized or otherwise. I fear that today's optimism will be fleeting. These people don't deserve to lose before they really even get started.

We pride ourselves on the American dream, but that dream is mostly based on acquisition of wealth, property, material goods, and career success. Too many Americans compare property, envy those who have more, worship celebrities, embrace ignorance, and substitute televised pabulum for interconnectedness and legitimate inquiry. The American dreams of the greedy and willfully stupid can look downright scary.

American Psycho gets me thinking about how sick we all are in our own ways. We are not all Patrick Bateman, but he is the logical extreme of American excess, a cautionary tale for those of us living in a world where people can't remember each other's names, can't make human connections, can't explain why they feel the way they feel, and patch the wounds with consumption of goods, prescription meds, and base entertainment. For millions of us, we are empty. We can't fill the void. We take our rights and privileges for granted. We act like spoiled brats.

Not all Americans are like this. However, there is no challenge to finding someone who embodies one or more of the above. We should do better if we're truly the best country on earth. And just because you're widely accepted as the best doesn't mean you can stop trying to be better. "Best" does not equal "perfect." Maybe working harder will fill the emptiness instead of, you know, reality TV.

I hope the people I saw today can sustain their optimism and that their new American lives deliver on the promise and hope they felt this morning. I hope my wife and I can keep pursuing our American dream and get there eventually.

I want to believe in the America I keep hearing about.

I'll end there. I have to return some videotapes.