The Marist Polling Institute (proposed slogan: "For when Gallup is too classy...") recently came up with a poll of the most annoying phrases in conversation. (You can read it...here.) Their results say nothing is more annoying than "whatever." Presumably this is said with a snap of the fingers, in a Valley Girl accent, circa 1993.
The most annoying phrases in order:
1.) Whatever - 47%
2.) You know - 25%
3.) It is what it is - 11%
4.) Anyway - 7%
5.) At the end of the day - 2%
How does "like" slip through the cracks of this poll? If anyone has spent more than 20 minutes in a college classroom they'd know an orgy of similes are being unleashed every two seconds--most of the time with the speaker completely unaware. The Marist Polling Institute is run through Marist College. They should know this better than anyone else.
It gets more interesting when you look at Marist's spreadsheet breaking down the results by region, race, age, and education. (Oh, yeah. We love the spreadsheets here.) Apparently 12% of Midwesterners have no opinion on annoying phrases. Really now? Is it so hard to come up with some quirk of language that grates the nerves that 12% of an entire populated region just shrugs their shoulders?
I'll help the good Midwestern folk out with my own suggestion. How about "you betcha!"? Long before Alaskan political candidates used it, people in the Midwest had a stranglehold on verbal gambling. They bet on everything. You tell a Midwesterner it's cold outside, and they reply, "Ohhh, it is! You betcha!" You tell a Midwesterner your scrambled eggs taste great, and they reply, "You betcha! Chickens do lay tasty eggs!" They say it so often that it's surprising a game of Three-card Monte doesn't break out more often around them.
Anyway, whatever. At the end of the day it is what it is.
I recently spent four days crossing northern Vermont during leaf-peeping season. (Nothing is easier on the wallet for a poor English major than just driving aimlessly. That is until gas prices shoot up again.) While the scenery was inspiring to write, I was too busy making mental notes about the people. The foundation for writing is often just the ability to observe. Though stereotypes are fun and work in a pinch, too.
First off, Vermont is made up of two types of people, and only two types of people. (Stereotyping, you say? Not so, if you've been to Vermont more than a few times in your life.) One type is the born-and-bred out in the countryside. They live in rusted double-wides with a Chevy/Ford pickup truck with 250,000 miles on it as their mode of transportation. They tend to have a thick and hefty beard, wear lots of random camo, have some scruffy dog that looks like it smokes two packs a day, and are the classic taciturn New Englander. If you chat them up, expect one word answers. Two word answers are reserved only if you marry them or buy dinner.
The other Vermonter is someone who moved in from elsewhere. They might have been born in Vermont, moved away, only to come back...or was born elsewhere, but felt the Kashi cereal magnetism that emanates from Vermont and felt drawn to its mountains of green. These people live in ornate Victorian homes that look like it was plucked from a Bronte sister book, run galleries for local artists, and grow their own manure pile in the backyard. They don't eat granola unless they've added a little extra tree bark for fiber. They drive Subarus. This is a fact. You will not drive in Vermont for more than 1/10th of a mile without seeing a half dozen Subarus fly past you. In fact, Vermont recently passed legislation that said the entire state is now just one giant Subaru dealership.
What is also clear about traveling throughout Vermont is that Robert Frost got around. Yes, Robert Frost was "New England's Poet." Apparently being New England's Poet meant he single-handedly kept the real estate market afloat in the early 20th century. This man seemingly owned homes, vacation spots, farms, dance clubs, yoga studios, and Chinese food restaurants. I've been to most every corner of New England over the years. At this point, it's clear Frost slept in more beds than Richard Gere in "American Gigolo." You drive for a half hour anywhere in northern New England and you're apt to see some Robert Frost real estate. (That includes one final piece of real estate: his burial plot in Bennington, VT.)
That's what makes Emily Dickinson easier to seek out. You might say she was a recluse or had some social anxiety disorder. I just say she was being kind and making things easier on a day tripper like myself. If Travelocity or Expedia want to hype a famous writer for tourists, they need to jump on the Emily Dickinson bandwagon. She's the anti-Frost, and especially the anti-Hemingway. (That's another blog for another day.) Birthplace? Home where she lived? Burial plot? Are you capable of walking 50ft without getting winded and needing a hit off an oxygen tank? If so, Emily is the woman for you! How helpful!
And best of all, you don't need to buy a Subaru to see it all.
