You Can Take the Girl out of the Midwest...

So about 7 months ago, I moved from Michigan to Southern California (or SoCal, as it will henceforth be known in this here blog), and since I’m something of an oddity to my coworkers (both because I’m actually odd and because I moved from that faraway mystical land otherwise known as the Midwest), I frequently get asked how things here compare to my homeland.

First, let it be noted that I’m a Midwestern girl through and through, and I’m a fierce defender of my roots. Seriously—I get crazy defensive. So while I’m actually enjoying SoCal and I can totally see why people move here and never leave, it hasn’t totally won me over. I would love to someday return to the Midwest and its friendliness, changing seasons, and people who cross the street at a quick I-don’t-want-to-be-inconsiderate-since-you-allowed-me-to-cross-instead-of-running-me-over pace… but more on that in a bit.

So in the discussions that follow these comparison questions, someone will inevitably ask which I prefer, and when I say the Midwest, Californians are shocked. Like, everyone stares at me as though I’ve just said I think that Tom Cruise is a well-adjusted guy. How could I possibly like anywhere more than California, the greatest place in the history of the world? I’m pretty sure this reaction stems from a notion that the Midwest is a frozen tundra full of rednecks (which is only partly true). I’m not 100% sure what they imagine the Midwest to be, but it’s certainly not a place that they think anyone would choose over sunny SoCal. (For reference, most Midwesterners I know can relate entirely to The Middle. Most Californians can relate to Modern Family.)

When they ask what’s so different and I mention things like friendliness and the pace, I get another floored reaction. “Really? Things are that different?”

Oh yeah. At least, that’s from my observations. So here’s a list of some of the differences I’ve noticed—some for the better, and others… not so much.

The Heat

Midwest = humid, inescapable

California = dry, brought on entirely by the sun

One of the things I thought I was going to hate, but actually really like, is the heat in California. Well, wait. I don’t like the heat itself, but instead the type of heat it is. I’m not a warm weather fan, and as you Midwesterners will note, the humidity makes the heat there unbearable. Whether you’re in direct sun or in the shade, it’s still the same temperature. Here, the heat (while pretty much a year-round constant) is dry and totally caused by the sun. So as soon as you step into the shade, the temperature drops about 10 degrees, which I rather like.

But while I’m an outsider and can make these comparisons, most people don’t think that way, which I get. And yet when someone will randomly complain about how hot it is here, my defensive mode kicks in and I’ll be all like, “Seriously? You have no idea what hot even means! It’s not hot until it’s so humid that you sweat through your underwear.” Gross, but true.

No Seasons

This makes me a little sad. I love the changing seasons. I love the crisp air of fall, glittery white snowflakes of winter, sweet lilac spring air, and sunshine-y days of summer. Here, the seasons are hot, hot, hot, and hot. Just warm weather all the time. So while stores sell parkas in the winter and I do in fact see people wearing scarves, it’s still about 70 degrees in January. I’m sure that the longer I live here the thinner my blood will get until I, too, stop wearing t-shirts and skirts in the “dead of winter”, but for now, I’m really going to miss the seasons.

The Pace

Californians move s-l-o-w. There’s a definite laid back attitude (except when driving—drivers here scare the bejeezus out of me), and people walk slowly. Everywhere. In the Midwest, you’re taught that when crossing the street, you move quickly to get out of the motorists’ way. But here, that mindset doesn’t exist, I swear. Everyone just meanders across the street at the slowest pace possible, as if to say, “Hey, it’s cool, you can wait for me. I’m a pedestrian.” It’s aggravating, and I’m constantly yelling, “MOVE” while I’m driving (with the windows up, so I just look crazy, but I don’t sound crazy).

Driving

Now while the walking pace is slow (seriously, try walking through the mall without having to bob and weave in order to maintain a normal pace… it’s impossible), the driving is the exact opposite. Not long after I moved here, someone asked, “Have you been in an accident here yet?” and when I said no, she responded, “Well, that won’t last long.”

Drivers here are terrifying. As Rich put it, “They’re in such a hurry to do nothing.” Whenever he’s driving on the highway, I pretty much have to shut my eyes. In fact, I myself have only driven on the expressway three times since moving here seven months ago. No joke.

The Friendly-Factor

From my experience, Californians have absolutely zero sense of their surroundings. Being considerate isn’t a top priority—people are constantly stopping in the middle of busy walking areas for no reason, taking their time to get out of the way, and cutting me off in the greeting card section. It drives me bananas and makes it really hard to be friendly.

Sunshine! All! The! Time!

I have a weird crazy part of my brain that really hates wasting beautiful days doing nothing indoors. I think this comes from long winters in my childhood with nary a day of sunshine for weeks on end. But when it’s sunny outside, I want to throw open the door and go out exploring… which pretty much would mean that here, I’d be out exploring almost every day. SoCal gets over 300 days of sunshine a year, so my brain is basically in constant freak out mode. But it’s SUNNY! I should be outside enjoying it! I need to go do something! Ahhhhhh!!!

Yes, I stress about sunshine. If that doesn’t just about sum me up, I don’t know what does.

So Much To Do

One of my favorite things about living here is that there’s SO MUCH TO DO! Living in a densely populated suburb of one of the country’s largest cities means that there is constantly something to keep me busy. There are 17 Target stores within a 20-mile radius of my apartment. No joke. I looked it up.

Now, after living in a small rural town for college and the two years after, having every restaurant and store and activity at my fingertips is a dream come true. And yet, like sunshine, it sometimes overwhelms me. I may have cried about this. A few times. There’s so much to do and not enough time! I know, I’m completely insane. But after six years of Walmart and a first date at Perkins, having so many options is too much for me to handle sometimes. In a good way. Mostly.

Okay, so there are a million more differences, but I’ve definitely rambled for far too long. It’s taking me awhile to get back in the swing of writing, so my apologies for the length of time between posts. I’m working on it.

But the next update should be shorter and should also have pictures, because I’m going to COMIC CON!!!