There’s a big argument over which coast is the better coast--east or west. (Or maybe there’s only a big argument in my head because I’ve lived on both sides of the US.) I was born in Southern California but I currently live in South Carolina. I’ve lived in both places for roughly the same amount of time, so I’d like to think I have extensive knowledge on the west coast and the south. As a conclusion, I’d have to say that the west coast is vastly superior to the southern states. I have nothing against the east coast; it has its charms. However, when I first moved out to South Carolina, it was like a culture shock.

I don’t mean to exaggerate or anything, but everything down to the temperature of the ocean water is extremely different. I grew up in a place where everything was go go go. I showed up to South Carolina in the eighth grade wearing converse and skinny jeans, a look that had yet to reach the south, and instantly found that I would have a hard time fitting in. California is so drastically different from other states, not just those found on the east coast. Everyone is constanting doing yoga or surfing or pondering how they could be more eco-friendly. Yes, the stereotypes are true: There are palm trees on every street. The valley accent is real. Surfer jargon is used in everyday conversations. The skunky scent of pot is like California’s own personal Fabreeze. The whole state is just...relaxed.

The south is more traditional. I hadn’t ever heard the brands Vera Bradley or Lilly Pulitzer until I moved to South Carolina. The concept of wearing a dress at sporting events makes me confused and amused. I didn’t understand what "old money" was until I saw it in the flesh of Charleston. The Atlantic ocean water feels like bath water and “y’all” is the equivalent of California’s “totally.”

It took me awhile to find myself in South Carolina. At first I tried to acclimate into the southern lifestyle. I wanted to fit in, especially because I felt so left out when I first arrived. I started wearing slightly flared jeans and cut my waist long hair to my above my shoulders. I bought a Polo shirt and a pair of Sperry’s. It was a confusing time for someone whose normal uniform consisted of shorts and flip flops.

It wasn’t until my senior year that I realized I was a phony; I was going against my Californian blood. I moved to South Carolina while I was in my last semester of middle school, which we all know is the worst time for a person while growing up. I wanted to make friends and I thought the easiest way to do so was by fitting in. However, I forgot the coolest part about me back then: I had just moved from California. I should have embraced that s**t. That could’ve been my identifier. I had the ability to be the rad girl from the west coast and I wasted the opportunity. I only have myself to blame for that.

To be honest, I didn’t even realize I was outwardly projecting any California vibe until someone asked me where I was from based on the way I said “soda.” That was roughly three years after I transitioned from the west coast. It was also at that point that I realized I still had some California left in me that others could see. Now I ride the “I’m not from here” train and I have no plans to get off any time soon. Sure, it can be a little obnoxious, but I love where I’m from. It’s a great place, and I really love saying “like” four times in every sentence. I found a nice balance of being a weird westerner in the south.