As we all know, Californians make excellent scapegoats for stereotyping. Just by looking at our surroundings, it’s easy to see why. The sun shines one minute, and then it “rains” the next. We don’t have character-building seasons like Wisconsin’s infamous “freezing rain season” in which the rain turns to ice as it hits the ground and wet hair is prone to break off in clumps. No, our weather is just fickle. I wonder if that has anything to do with our “sunny” attitude – ha ha, get it? (Sorry, I just love bad puns).

In any case our weather isn’t the only diverse thing in California. I must say that we have one of the most diverse environments and sociological communities. Don’t believe me? We have the “dot com” central valley (at the heart of which rests the Paly Voice), the artichoke capital of the world in Castroville, the garlic capital of the world in Gillory, happy-go-lucky, surfin’ Southern California (thanks Beach Boys), Smoggy L.A., shiny Hollywood, hippy Santa Cruz, flamboyant San Francisco, and to “terminate” the list, Sacramento.

Is that enough to convince you of our oh-so-varying attitudes? These “habitats,” however, are irrelevant as our stereotyping concludes. What do you think of when you hear “California?” Dot-commers, organic fanatics, or tanning beds? Let’s just say that the soaps “Laguna Beach” and “the OC” aren’t much help.

So I’m curious what happens when we Californians step outside of our 54 electoral votes (!) bubble. Will it all be “OMG! You, like, live next to a movie star!” or “I’ll be back” or “surf’s up!” or “dude, did you bring any weed?”

Are we all destined (if we go to college) to be bombarded with these questions when we first meet our roommate from North Dakota? Ok, so hardly anyone is really that ignorant, but we Californians have been known to say some pretty damning stuff (America’s democrats are girly-men anyone?) I remember my mom told me that when she was little in Wisconsin a girl her age from California asked, “what do you do here? There’s no ocean!” Oi.

Oddly enough, the stereotypical American in a foreign country gives the opposite reaction. When I was in Paris over winter break, this became ultimately clear to me. In one brasserie a group of old women were “lounging” – yes feet on chairs and everything – and discussing (with high volume) weight watchers in English. Way to give away you’re an American. Maybe this image, the American stereotype, and the stereotype that the French hate Americans, made me extra careful throughout the trip to try to speak French (trust me you don’t want to hear my atrocious accent) and to be polite. By these actions I was trying (and it’s up to the French to decide whether I succeeded or not) to refute the idea that Americans are pig-headed, rude, and loud. It’s just as I heard a girl mutter to her sister after I got off the plane in America: “Good! Now I can be rude again!”

Well I hope that you have better luck at having people recognize you as something other than (insert state here) – or maybe you are particularly proud of this stereotype. Hey, it has its benefits.

Hasta la vista, Baby.