Random Post 2
When I was twelve years old I moved from a small suburb outside of New York City to Malibu, CA. It is an understatement to say that I was unhappy with this move. My dad had gone to college in California and wanted a ‘more relaxed lifestyle’. My parents were tired of always being on the go and not having a moment to breathe. My friends were excited for me, they thought it was so cool I was moving to ‘Cali’—I soon realized after moving to California that no one uses the word ‘Cali’ if you’re actually from California. I was more apprehensive. I thought this was a selfish decision made by my parents, and that it was the worst time for me to move. I think the biggest difference—besides the climate, my favorite season is fall, and needless to say, there is no fall foliage in Southern California—was the community. I went from living in a neighborhood where I lived on the same street as four of my classmates, I was a three-minute walk to my best friend’s house, and a five-minu...