east coast vs west coast, part one

So I'll just put it out there that I'm sort of an LA transplant (that's what we call 'em out here...those from other parts of the country who come to sunny Los Angeles to make their dreams come true.)

I was born, raised, and grew up in New Hampshire, then moved to the OC when I was nine. In some ways I am very much a California girl, except for the part where I don't actually tan, but that's not because I'm a New Englander, that's because I'm Scottish and Dutch and go from pale to sunburned back to pale. As a Scottish-Dutch girl, I was built for being a kick-ass fighter and being very organized, respectively, and I do both equally well. Tanning is not required in either Scotland or The Netherlands (raise your hands if you thought Dutchland, then smack yourselves), nor is it required to start a bar fight or make a swell to-do list. I rest my case.

The California parts of me are the "woah, chill, dude, just feel the energy" aspects of my personality; an undying curiosity of what, exactly, my neighbors are up to; a love of all things ocean or sunny; and the crippling fear that I will be the first to show up to a party. I really can't help it, it's in the water here, kids.

There is also the all-important California attitude of playing it cool. (This will come into play later, everyone, so pay attention.) As a Californian you are expected to not care TOO much about any one thing, not try TOO hard, and look as if there is always some place a little bit cooler where you COULD be, but hell, you're a saint tonight, so why not just grace everyone with your presence and stay here. As a wildly over-enthusiastic spaz, I rarely do this one, but every so often I fall prey to it.

What I retained from New England (and more specifically, New Hampshire), is the will and drive to succeed at everything I do and base my self worth off of how productive I am; a very strong resistance to anyone who tries to tell me what to do with my life, ever; the general feeling that if I feel crappy, a four-hour long walk through a forest will help clear my head (think Robert Frost); and STUPID FRAKING CAR WHY ARE YOU GOING BELOW THE SPEED LIMIT AND IN FRONT OF ME. That last one really freaks out the poor visitors to New England. Sorry, guys. In my last post, I noted that I was courteous and polite driver, and I am now... after driving for several years and scaring the crap out of my friends.

Side story: Until I was about 21 I thought it was perfectly fine to stop my car about three and a half inches away from the car in front of me at intersections. Finally a friend politely asked me exactly what the hell I was thinking.

"This is the way I was taught to drive," I replied.

"And who taught you to drive, may I ask?" (apparently my friend was Mr. Belvedere)

"My dad."

"And what driving experience does your father have?"

Pause.

"He was a cab driver in Boston."

Riiiight.

Anyways, this isn't a post about my poor upbringing as a super aggressive Boston cabbie in training, this is about something entirely more important that seems to be a huge contention between East Coasters and West Coasters. Are you guys ready?

This is about whether or not you are supposed to wear the t-shirt of the band that you are currently at the concert of.

Part two to follow on Monday as I explain my reasoning...so have a good weekend :)