I've probably said all of this before

I want to move to California
Don't get me wrong, I love London. I'm a London girl and I always will be. It runs in my veins and always will until the day I draw my last smoggy, polluted breath, but there's something about Califonria that makes me feel like I belong there.

I have a habit of losing track of time, even when I don't want to. It just has a habit of slipping away. If you asked me a question about what happened in the first sixteen years of my life I could tell you things like the carpet in the first house I lived in (black and white key tooth), or the perfume that my mother used to wear when I was born (Anais Anais), but other than those minuscule details, I got nothing. Everything just seems to slip through my fingers, if I try to make attempts to try to portray a certain scenario to someone, conversations disappear even as I'm talking. The images are still strong, and I do have some memories, but regretfully a lot of them I'd rather forget. Yet sometimes late at night when I finally get to rest instead of sleep I write, and it feels as if I’m writing about someone else. Which in a way I am. I'm not the gangly, lanky, seemingly two-dimensional girl I used to be. My hair seems to get shorter by the minute, I hate people touching my hair, but I get ever more daring with it as time goes. My tattoo and plans for more, I hope to become a colourful canvas. But it’s not the outside of this girl that is so much different. It’s the inside. Which is why I think it's time for a change of scenery

I don’t care for sleep all that much. Perhaps I'm scared I'll miss something, but ultimately it's in the wee small hours of the morning that I get all my best work done. My mind empties of all the trivial problems that seem to bother me when the sun is up. Sometimes after dark I can get a little edgy, and frankly I get crazy sometimes, and at these times it's advisable to switch my phone off, because I get a tendency to become brutally honest, and yet somewhat paranoid (that's years of drug abuse catching up with me). But I still maintain the saying I seem to repeat at least once every day: "I'll sleep when I'm dead". Every so often I'll burn the candle at both ends and I'll end up locked away from the outside world for a week or so, feeling a bit sorry for myself, but I love looking at the clock at 4 a.m. and knowing that the rest of the world is silent and still. And that whatever mischief I may be getting into, that the chances are no-one else is doing it.

Last November my girls and I went to California, and it was the best two weeks of my life (so far that is!), besides meeting so many amazing people and feeling so welcome in somewhere that is so different from where I was brought up. Just small things like walking down Sunset Boulevard at 3am after being accosted at a Concert and talking to random rockers in the street, going to a diner at 5am after a gig and getting some breakfast with one of the coolest, worldly-wise men I have met and him showing us how to tip our waitresses properly, or drinking tequila at 7am and watching four day Star Wars marathon, I know that California is the place for me.

A place where the lights never go out. How comforting is that to someone who doesn’t like to sleep?