Silicon Valley is where I’m from. Where pennies are put between your toes, not in your wallet. Where shorts are not only for summer and daisy dukes with bikinis on top are for Santa Cruz. Where California Girls is a theme song. Where raccoon eyes don’t only belong to the animal. Where the bullies un-friend or post a status about you on Facebook. Where people wear their pants too low or too high. Where people think that Spandex is okay for school. Where you eat popcorn in the Hunger Games but not anything at lunch or breakfast or dinner. Where Gangster America is fun, and Valley Girl mall is where you go for your everyday needs. Where Bluelight is cheap and AMC is classy. Where hip-hop, pop, and rap are your jams and you be jammin’. Where 99.7, 101.3, 106.1, 94.9 and 89.3 dominate your car rides. Where the Raiders are more black than white and get angry at the 9ers because silence is not golden. And hot doesn’t always refer to the temperature.
Where tiger balm, blister band-aides, and sheep wool is necessary. Where dead shoes make your feet look good. Where “you have good turnout” is one of the best complements you can give. Where extensions are envied. Where you can be jelly with no peanut butter. Where Blendz decided to close, taking my Lime Passion with them. Where 90 degrees is just okay, but it could be higher. Where Great Bear has Italian sodas. Where Main Street is for fatties. Where summer intensive is another word for massive photo-shoots and sweat.
Where A is for average and F is a myth. Where you write the answers to the Chinese test on the desk so that you don’t have to study. Where Jane-Jane-Jane-Jane-Jane-Jane lee breaks rulers and speaks too loud too often. Where Yu-Gi-Yo makes a comeback in the 8th grade. Where PE is synonym with gossip and business is taken care of in the bathroom. Where I am called white girl. Where jeans and tennis shoes are a fashion statement that is laughed at by those who think themselves above it. Where the cool kids are sometimes bad but usually sad and have decent grades.
Where a friendly smile is mistaken for flirting and leads to a complication that involves tears, a pencil, and hug. Where a guy will talk about a girl, but when he is around her, he hardly manages a word and when he does, he pats himself on the back for asking stupid questions like what the homework is or what time it is or glances in her direction. And the girl feels like punching him in the face when she hears about what he is saying to his friends. Where the same girl is called a whale as joke and acts like nothing is wrong but after tries to throw up in the same bathroom that business is done in. The bathroom that the daily ritual of whispers, make-up, shorts, tears, and confessions hold. Where self-harm is apparently something to be proud of so people brag about their scars but then try to cover them from the public eye with eyeliner around their eyes and bracelets around their wrist. Where late night texts lead to relationships. Where people can be couples but hardly speak. Where one hundred is not a number but a goal and tumblr is a lifestyle. Where light and dark, black and white fade into a shade of silver. And where cloud ten is one step from cloud nine.