Something About England: What Six Months in London Taught a California Girl

I've been back in LA for nearly a month.

So there it is. I resided in London for six whole months. I did everything I set out to do. And then some. After this, blogging about it will conclude, so here it is: warts and all.

First, immense thanks to every single person who made it what it was. For them, it was their day to day life. For me, I came expecting adventure, magic, new excitement... I see in hindsight that I was gloriously accommodated. Every box that I had left myself to tick was appeased in a major way. I must keep reminding myself that I'm very, very fortunate.

I also must keep in mind that this journey was frankly a unique one. I left behind everything I knew to carve out a life for myself in an entirely foreign city. I knew literally one person, I had very little bearings of the city, and no definitive plan. It started as a simple holiday, after all.

I never intended for it to become what it did. I suppose I intended to do the things I did, but not in the way I did them. I certainly had a mental check list of things I wanted to accomplish, and was on an eager search to achieve them. Luckily, I fell in with someone who was also in search of something. Some say that people come into your life to serve a particular purpose. Maybe that was true of this encounter.  I suppose we pushed each other along, rallying each other to the respective destinations we would happily find ourselves in.

It’s the relationships that I built that stay with me, more than an encompassing affair with a city or even the activities I did there. I suppose what I never illuminated much is that I could very much feel out of my depths. I was surrounded by people I was fond of, that I admired, and whom intrigued me. But they were all virtual strangers to me.

Let's be completely frank. I was dealing with utter lunatics - and they'd all gleefully admit it. Lucky for me, I was bred into lunacy, and am American to boot. Everyone was a bit (or a lot) crazy, 'in their own world', and did little to hide it. I worked in an environment of (as I described it on my last day) 'nit-picky old man stuff'. Yet I identified with this, and understood it. Similarly, around my temporary abode, we randomly shouted nonsense, had terrible nicknames, made animal noises, sang rather than said most things, and were generally obnoxious. I fit right in. My social life was much of the same. Call them lambs, piranhas, what have you... It was all silly encounters, dazzling conversation, and most of all, fun. Really, hats off to the sublime maniacs that I got to know. How boring life would be if all my friends were sane.

For I entered a world that was very much established. People weren't changing. They were guarded, jaded, and settled in their ways. I stood as the opposite - young, impressionable, yet stubborn. I was simultaneously vastly open to change and staunchly against it. Some opinions consistently fluctuated and some never changed. I happily tried to bend over backward, but sometimes felt twisted and bound.

Things were, at times, sticky. But no matter what, I'm happy everything played out as it did. Everyone got what they needed. It was enough. I frequently struggle with that thought. I think instead, if something is great, why not milk it until it’s dry? Likely an American sensibility. But I'm learning there's much wealth in knowing when the time is up. Leave 'em to it. It was enough.

That included entering a work environment. I felt a bit out of touch as I found my footing, but soon, praise trickled in. I felt comfortable. Comfortability is vital to my functioning. I thrived and had 'the initiative to do so.' It was never difficult, because I thoroughly enjoyed doing it. Music, learning, writing, cakes, writing about albums you love, discovering albums you hate, sprawling out on the floor with old copies of Sounds and making a joke out of it, respecting the people you share an office with, cracking the difficult ones, seeing how it all works, interviews, fast-paced events, 40 minute deadlines, going with the flow, and somehow hitting the mark every time. Hugs and kisses to say goodbye and knowing it was all worth it and that it’s far, far from over. It’s the one thing I can look back on and not pick apart. I cherish that immensely.

I learned so much. Not just on the professional front, but about people and how they function with each other. It never fails to intrigue me. But rather than observing, I ended up in the thick of it. I think the common denominator in every person I encountered in their wondrous work ethic. Brilliant, talented professionals, each with their own set of quirks and flaws, pushing at 100% at all times. Most, if not all, took everyone as with them or against them. And thus, expected everyone to travel at such high velocities at every minute they surrounded them. Everyone had I previously known seemed dull, had different interests, and left much to be desired. I was surrounded by people who excited me, stimulated me, and most of all, challenged me. I was reluctant to accept such a challenge, but I do, I do, I do! One once told me, "You have to just blow people's minds." And they all excelled at it in their own little way.

I learned that sometimes, you just need to keep your mouth shut, or 'keep it vague.' A tough one in a realm full of gossip, confidants, and not-to-be-repeated secrets. But alas this is one I'll take with me.

I learned that when surrounded by over-achievers, 'geniuses', hard workers, and high standards, you need to do more than what's asked. In fact, you probably won't even be asked, just do! I'm admittedly no good with this one. I like clear lines, steady direction, given tasks that I can throw myself into. Guessing what pleases people makes me unsure of myself, but this is something that came at me again and again. A lesson worth learning. Noted.

I learned that in order to get what you want, you need to ask, and ask, and ask, and ask a bit more. You need to nag, charm, and do all that you can to sway everything in that direction. People are absorbed in their world, but most respond to determination, passion, and persistence. Even though 'everybody is a wanker until proven otherwise' (I haven't quite gotten behind that philosophy), people do appreciate drive and believe in helping when they can.

The biggest mistake anyone can make is not taking away the lessons their experiences taught them. The world hasn't stopped spinning and life continues despite the fact that I don't work for a magazine every weekday, rendezvous over cake and in cabs, and trot home to make coffee, scan images, and write emails. I can only hope that I left a lasting impression, for I did the best that I could. And from here, it has room to breathe. The only agenda I'm now living on is my own. I've proved to myself that truly anything is possible. I hoped for it, I went after it, I got it. In every way, and the future is too vast for it to be over. So off to my next adventure... More exciting people, more interesting locations, more lessons to be learned!

And note to self, don't you dare ever feel sorry for yourself. You had the best six months that you could ask for! I think sometimes I wanted praise, but maybe it should be enough to give yourself a pat on the back. You did it. Now keep doing it. "That's all you need."




Post-script; Someone once asked me what my ambition was. He presented it as a 'big question' and I drew back, played coy, and I'm not sure that I ever gave him a direct answer. But for the record, my ambition is everything I got and everything I continue to go after. Just a thought.

Something About England: A California Girl in London... Part Seven

I've been back in LA for a month, though it took that month to digest those six. Until now, I haven't really even wanted to think of all that went on. I just wanted to throw myself into other things, namely familiarity and plotting my next move. (You won't be disappointed, I promise.) This post will stand as a celebration of all that happened in London. I've had such wondrous experiences. I could never even articulate the grand times I had. It was such fun. Working with people who knew what they were doing, seeing it all in action. Playing with people who certainly knew how to play. I was shown London from the vantage point of a handful of people who were able to showcase its every asset.

Plentiful work days, late nights, wine weekends, lavish dinners, piranhas, home cooked dinners, photos taken always, generosity, wisdom, constantly being exposed to music, strange encounters whilst in transit,  cake for the whole office, being surrounded by intelligent people who were willing to share what they knew, quiet nights in, mentorship, sweets from the corner store, making friends out of strangers, lambs, lots of cake, persistance in every field, and London while the sun shined.

Its a strange thing, walking into a life full of firsts. Luscious city at your feet whenever you wish, fascinating people, stimulating company, creativity appeased, temptation at high volumes. You don't realise how impactful and overwhelming these new situations can be. Its the most exciting sensation. I learned so, so much. I struggled sometimes, to make sense of it all, but I came out all right. I'm also excited by the thought of people coming in and out of your life, unexpectedly but necessarily. I felt more alive than ever. Sometimes it all came over me and I wasn't sure what to do with it all. But even in those moments of vulnerabilities, it was a divine rawness. A starkness. I was feeling it all, ready and willing to let it take me over. I wanted to feel things I had never felt, and experience things I had never experienced. In hindsight, I know I took away from it all that I wanted to. And needed to.

Before departing London, I was sure to visit the Aesthetic Movement exhibition at the V&A, as it was due to close sometime this month. So jarringly beautiful that I did laps around the exhibition, not knowing when I'd ever get to closely devour these masterworks ever again. In terms of art, it was perfect collection of things that moved me. Any art lover who missed it sincerely missed out, and I just knew I had to revisit it before I went. I followed it up with a shopping trip in Knightbridge, which seemed to become a post-V&A habit.

The weekend that followed was a grand one. Hard Rock Calling hit Hyde Park and I filed in on its last day, mostly for a bit of Rod Stewart. Sunshine, tiny shorts, free bar, and good company made for a luscious near-final day. By the time Mr. Stewart took the stage, I was ready to dance. His act itself contained every song you could hope for, but he seemed to put little effort to his performance. He didn't strive for excellence. All was forgiven when Ronnie Wood hopped onstage for Stay With Me and Maggie May. It was genuinely a lovely, lovely day. (Entirely unrelated, here's a bit of Rod by moi for Mojo and grab the McCartney issue before its off the newsstands for more of my contributions!)

Hanging with Mr. Cooper

All did not feel so lovely, lovely the next morning however. My last full day in London was one of my longest, and one of my happiest. After a sluggish morning, I was headed for Mojo. I ran through my morning routine before quickly debunking to Hyde Park once more. This time the occasion was Alice Cooper's Fire And Freaks audition, a search for bizarre vaudeville type acts to support him for his London Halloween show. I was treated to a show of scantily clad women, breathing fire, sauntering around in lingerie, sticking pins in their arms, and taking a angle grider to a guitar. Not quite what one expects Monday afternoon, but my work days were all but typical. I then perched under a tree, where I was joined by Mr. Cooper himself. We chatted about a visit he made to Brian Wilson (in his sandbox piano!) with Iggy Pop in the seventies, he praised Johnny Depp as a guitar player, and he listed off horrid injuries he had suffered onstage. A lovely, soft-spoken yet chatty, fully accommodating interviewee.

It was then back to Covent Garden, where I made the world's best M&S run. I had my arms full of English goodies to take home to LA and was equipped with cake for the Mojo team, something that had become a routine with me and seemed only fitting on my last day. I practically crawled up Wardour Street for a final errand, with the day turning hellishly humid. Back at Mojo, the day ended ever so quickly, as hugs and kisses were abundant. Sincere thank you's were exchanged, as I was ushered to the door, blown kisses trailing my exit.

I probably could have broke down in happy tears right there, but it was on to more goodbyes. Sitting in a park, dying from the heat, reflecting on all that had happened in the last months and where I would end up next. A final cab ride that I didn't have to fight for, squeezes, not saying goodbye, clutching the Evening Standard and catching my train, welling up in tears, as alas, the ride was over.

I was likely Lunatic of Victoria Station, smiling as I cried, because there it was. It all happened. I was happy. It was the right time to close the book on everything. I had done it.