My first American party

It is currently 630 on a Monday morning and wrote this last night to publish this morning, please comment if any questions.

Now parties in England were a frequent occasion for me and where I lived in Kensington they were mad. Always Drink and always Drugs. Everyone was always on something whether it be weed, KET, Coke. Raves were mental and everyone could drink because everyone had a fake ID (by just borrowing a year aboves). Most people would get with randomers at clubs and most  people would definitely not remember their night the next morning. If you have ever been to a good rave, concert, party, you would know that when intoxicated, high or whatever these were fatal on your mind, body and soul.


Now before you judge me, what most people don’t understand about my friendship group was that it was incestuous. Everyone had sex. Everyone had sex with one another. But there was often very little drama. Relationships casual. Benefits more likely than love. However, when I moved to the suburbs of New York, I could barely comprehend the contrast of attitudes, it was crazy.

And now where I currently am in Long Island, families get involved in ‘drama’, things that in London would only involve the ‘kids’, gossip here spreads quicker than wild fire because nothing much is ever going on, and the difference between London is actually crazy.

This was all revealed to me at my first High school American party:

I remember taking a solid hour to dress up for my first party, partly because it would be in attendance by the majority of my peers. I had put on my favourite flared black jeans and a thrifted top that resembled clueless and barely covered my bra. I remember having no idea about the dress code, what the classic American party outfit would be, but I decided to stick with my relatively ‘out there’ fashion, and hopefully look relatively presentable. (I think my decision to go and look nice in hindsight was not to make impressions but that it was fuelled by insecurities or my wanting acceptance) I also remember my nerves, my hope to make proper senior acquaintances and also wishing for fun (This once again shows me that despite trying to fool myself I obviously did care about others thoughts of me). I also remember being especially thankful that this party would be for both the future junior and seniors, meaning I could go with my brother and therefore not be standing there awkwardly the entire time, (I don’t think you would have caught me there if it weren’t for my brother attendance).

We arrived late of course (I guarantee if you gain anything from this blog it will be understanding my tardiness). The party apparently started at 9 but I was not there until 11. Now, I have never been to a ‘Freshman’ or ‘Sophomore party’, but all my friends now (spoiler) constantly describe them as lame or boring, but in comparison to London club nights and raves and even parties, these ‘upperclassman’ parities were similar even though we didn’t have to pay the typical 10 pounds (dollars) just to enter. What I can say about this American party was that everyone had a judgemental attitude,in hindsight that may be because I was new, but it seemed excruciating eat the time. Also, not everyone was down to get drunk or down for fully focused on having a good time and some people (especially girls) were seeking the boy’s attention.  I explicitly remember being desperate for fun at that point, I know sad but  imagine being cooped up in your house for two weeks and only seeing your friends on face time.

Anyway continuing with the vague memory of my first American party:

I arrived at a teenagers house (who’s name was anonymous to me in that moment). I immediately walked in to witness boys and girls getting with each other, people with red basic cups that you see in movies and enough people that could fit in a club. (first impression was that it was a typical American party, that I had witnessed a thousand times in a movie).

It’s funny because you ofter think that movie’s are fake but in that moment I truly believed that high school was going to be identical to the movies.

I walked in literally feeling all eyes on me (cliche I know, but nevertheless true), people seemed intent on meeting or looking at the new British boy and girl. I was never really one for making friends and in England I had relied on my best friends and their extroverted confident attitude to introduce me to people, but at that moment I remember  learning a vital lesson, that I would have to make an effort, despite previously and naively thinking that I would be happy with no friends for a whole year.

This is when I decided to walk to the kitchen confidently, and pour a drink for myself next to a group of girls. (Of course it was 90 percent vodka and 10 percent Coke, I needed my nerves to dissipate quickly). The girls immediately began to talk to me, obsessing over my accent, wanting to know why I moved, thankfully complementing my outfit that had previously put me on edge. And just how my drink quickly disappeared so did my nerves, I had made a friend or two and I remember that making me so fucking happy. (I mean obviously I could classify them as friends yet, but it was obvious they were nice girls.)

I remember dancing in the middle of the dance floor with the girls I had just met, talking to a fuckload of people boys and girls, but that night essentially was a blur, a fun blur for sure. And although it wasn’t London and I wasn’t partying with my best friends I had a laugh and began to realise that it was possible to have a decent year.

oh and BTW the next day I was vomiting non stop, the similarities to London were crazy.


moving (first week)

I left London.

I arrived in New York, this is my journey:

When I moved to Long Island New York (area not disclosed), I imagined it to be like any high school movie, cliche and cliquey. You would have the Drama geeks, the geeks, the populars, the jocks, the cheerleaders. I moved having no identity, I realised I could start again leave my closed off, posh girl, cold, stereotypical boarding school girl identity behind. However, I soon realised that I actually didn’t care and the person my school had nurtured me into being, may not have fit the classic American vibe, but I wasn’t American.

My loneliness was apparent as soon as I arrived at my new house, but I didn’t really mind, I was focused on achieving great SATs so it did not matter that I had essentially wasted my first year of A levels by moving, but I soon realised I was eventually going to be forced to leave my bed and meet new people, despite my intention being ignoring everyone and everything until I graduated and the move back to London for university, but I was fooling myself if I believed I could go unnoticed for a whole year.

The Town that I moved, I soon realised could be described as minuscule, especially in comparison to London and reminded my of an episode of ‘One Tree Hill’ or ‘Friday night Lights’, despite being in New York. There was about 10 restaurants on the high street and was nothing like anything I had experienced in London, or even at my time in the countryside.

For the first week I continued to revise, work hard, hang out with my brother who became my best friend and stay in my room (boring I know), but I wanted to keep my presence on the street limited. However it was inevitable living in a small town with a small population and a small variety of restaurants, people would begin to question who these British people were invading America. And here, begins my first proper encounter with High School life:

Me and my brother had decided that day, after about a week of living in America that we were going to a small Japanese restaurant, as we had not eaten sushi since we had arrived and were beginning to get withdrawal symptoms from avocado maki. We stuffed our faces as usual eating at an equivalent to 30 miles an hour and after half an hour receiving the check and heading to Ben and Jerry’s for an ice-cream.

This is where and when we encountered our first proper conversations with a group of high schoolers…

My initial interpretation that American teens were rude and confrontational were correct. This group of boys, who I later found out to be going into their junior year just like my brother, as soon as we had ordered ice-cream asked who we were. No Sorry, or please or polite language just a “who are you?”. This I remember immediately made me role my eyes and stereotype them as egocentric boys who were entitled. However, my brother’s relatively extroverted attitude, unlike me who would have rather walked out that shop, began to make conversation with them, leading us to discuss our future high school characteristics and characters, as well as discuss our move the reasoning behind it for a long time.

By the time I left, my initial impressions had changed, but not too fantastic boys who I admired but decent, charming boys who were obvious ‘players’. With the constant flirting from that night, I immediately understood what an mixed American High school and town was going to be like. I soon unfortunately realised that going under the radar as a ‘British senior girl’ was not going to be successful, and with the benefit of hindsight buy initial thoughts were accurate.

However, I left alone soon after, allowing my brother to socialise with his new peers, along with my melted ice-cream which forced to throw it in the bin as it was uneatable and an invitation to a ‘summer party’ that Saturday night for the future seniors and juniors in my new town.


Moving to high school for my senior year

At the beginning of this year I moved from London (Notting Hill) to New York (Long Island) for my senior year.. yes you guessed it rather shit.

My father’s job relocated and my mum was unwilling to allow me to live with my grandparents to finish year 13 and so instead I became a ‘senior’ (class of 2019).

Being at an all girls boarding my whole life didn’t really prepare me for a high school experience, where I would be studying alongside both boys and girls and drama, which was deemed a petit in my London school.

And so at the beginning of summer I embarked on my journey across the Atlantic, leaving my friends who were virtually my sisters and my entire extended family.

Hating my parents more than ever did not really make my experience more enjoyable and my Brother’s misery, who was starting his ‘Junior year’ enhanced the strain the move had on my family.

My intention is to write about my last four months as quickly as possible so I have everyone updated on my life.

I’m writing this blog to describe my journey on:  my move , the boy’s I and hopefully will continue to encounter, the friends I make and have made and the challenges I no doubt will have to overcome.

So if you want to know what it is like for a British girl at an American high school follow me on my journey.

Oh and if anyone is wondering had to do my (SAT’s) over the summer, but still have an enormous amount of work to catch up on. But I will be trying to upload short posts everyday.

Hopefully see you later