With the start of anything new, questions are a given. College, especially, brings a lot of these. Where are you from? How do you like it here? What is your major? But for me, the question is always, "how did a California girl like you end up in a place like Western New York?" I have come up with the stock answer, "As a young girl I was obsessed with rural New York..." Which, naturally, brings up how's and why's.

How? I read a book that mentioned the wonders of hills and trees.

Why? I wanted to experience the opposite of what I had.

Asphalt. That is what I had. The unending gray of buildings, roads and smog occasionally disrupted by the green of a palm tree or the blue of a breaking wave. It was redundant, but it was home.

Most know California for its big cities and crowded beaches, but I know it for the people, the laughter, and the "hello's" on the street. There is a certain magic associated with my home state. Everyone thinks we know all the movie stars and that everything is close by, but it's not. It isn't common knowledge that southern and northern California are separated by miles upon miles of land, giving room for cultures to develop and adapt.

The culture I was schooled in valued looks and physical ability. The more you could do, or better yet, outdo someone else, the better. The "magic" thought to exist, really is just this insane competitive nature in everyone there that is masked by smiles, as nothing can be blatant in Cali.

Like the many actors and actresses in Hollywood, everyone there is putting on a show.

Now all I see are the colors of trees, green, red, orange, yellow. I expectantly await dark bark against snow white hills, and intensely green springs, but I also bask in the honesty and brutal truth that comes with the east.

In western New York, image does not matter nearly as much. Teamwork is valued over showing off. People are not afraid to address conflict, and problems are solved through direct conversation.

The people here may not seem as warm and bubbly up front, but that is because they are willing to show their nerves, willing to admit they aren't perfect.

Do not get me wrong, I do miss California. I miss the "hello's" on the street, the smiles in the halls, and the seemingly placid conflict, but there is great worth in the truth brought by New York.

I recently went on a trip to Warren, Pennsylvania for fall break, and all I could do was long for home. The crazy thing is when I said home, I wasn't talking about California.