Art of Breaking (Michael Clifford)

onward and upward

I have never hated a plane ride so much in my whole life. 

Throughout my entire existance on this Earth we would take periodic vacations. After all, with the stress of school and work, everyone needed a break. Generally these "little breaks" were cross country, definitely too far to drive.

So at a young age, I grew accustomed to the slow ascent of the plane. Learned to love the view of the sky at 30,000 feet, and eventually grew to anticipate the churning of my stomach when the plane started its descent. That was one of my favorite parts of the whole vacation, the plane ride. 

But THIS plane ride was different.

For one, I did not want to be there. I would give almost anything to not be sitting in that uncomfortable seat for eleven hours.

For two, my father was absent from our little group. He had never missed a family vacation. Even when he was over his head in work, he still made time to spend with his family.

And for three (does anyone even say for three? It sounds so awkward), my lovely mother and brother had to drag me out of my makeshift bed on the floor in order to make our flight on time, meaning my hair was a mess and I looked like I had been alternating between snorting cocaine and shooting up heroin underneath a highway bridge for a week.

Which, by the way has made for some very interesting looks from the airplane stewardess. 

Let's back up shall we?

The past few days have been hell on Earth for me. I had pack up my whole life. Do you know what that feels like? To see everything that has been important to you, every decoration hung on your wall, every first-day-of-school outfit boxed up? Maybe you do, maybe you don't, but I never have. I had grown up in The City of Angels, it was all I had ever known. And now it has been packaged up and our home (though it has now been reduced to simply, a house) once again looks like it has never seen the light and/or love of a family.

What really gets me though is that whoever moves in won't know that the white spot on the stove top is from Dominic dropping a hot lightbulb. They won't know that stick in the ground in the backyard is marking where our dog, Marcie is buried. They won't know that dent on the staircase is where my boot hit the wall when I fell down the stairs once and had to get twelve stitches. They won't know anything about the house.

They might not even know about my father and what a great man he was, before and after they discovered the cancer, because that isn't good marketing. Fore a house is just a house. And when that house becomes a home, it is a beautiful thing. But a home, retreating into a house, even for just a while, is a sad, depressing event.

Back to the present though I suppose. To sum up the plane ride, it was long. And boring.. And my phone died three quarters of the way through the flight, so I had nothing to do but sleep. But hey, I guess I got to forget about London for a little while. I got to forget that I was leaving my home, my friends, and my father's gravesite, back in Los Angeles.

Don't get me wrong, under different circumstances, I would LOVE this trip so much. I have always wanted to visit London, well, England in general. I guess this is just a different way of visiting. More of an extended vacation? No, vacation makes it seem like we are going back, and after the way Mom acted this week, I doubt that would happen...

Okay Nova, enough complaining.

Eleven hours later, our little Hale family exited the plane. Let me just say one last time, that I have never been so exhausted in my whole life. And I slept like five of those hours! I guess that's the jetlag setting in. 

We were greeted by a sign from my mother's work. Oh, didn't I tell you that was the final piece of the puzzle in my mother's decision to move us all the way across the world? Oh yes. She works for a record company. She is actually very good at her job, although I can never remember what it is exactly that she does. But let me tell you, she brings in the big bucks for it, whatever it is that she does.

And fancy that, one of the branches that they are currently understaffed in is the London branch, meaning this entire trip was payed for, as well as the first six months' payment on our new apartment -excuse me, I meant flat.- 

What ever it is that she does, I want to do the same thing. The only problem is that she works with the more pop-py sounding music, while I prefer the more rock/ alternative type of music. Of course that doesn't necesarily have anything to do with having different job locations, I would definitely have to have some specialized knowledge concerning-for instance,- tracking drums, bass guitars, and lead/ rhythm guitars as well as vocals, for each individual group. That means not only knowing how to use the equipment, but also knowing different bands' preference.

Personally, I would love to work with bands like You Me At Six or All Time Low.

However, I know I would need a lot more experience. Which is why I have to start an internship at mom's work. To gain the experience in the pop department so I can get my dream job. Working with the rock bands. 

Okay, enough inner monologue, Nova....

The man holding the sign ushered us into a waiting taxi.

London is very different than L. A. It is much colder. It is cloudier. And everyone drives differently. It's hard to process. But I suppose I should get going on that, processing I mean, because this week is going to be intense.

Dom and I have to completey unpack all the boxes while Mom (or should I start calling her Mum?) is at work, then I have to go in with Mom and talk to the executives about an internship, and finally, I have to tour the city, because I have no idea where ANYTHING is. 

This is going to be interesting.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Okay so it's been a really, really, really long time since my last upload, but I'm really trying to keep myself on a schedule.

If it wasn't for Callie (who is probably the only one besides myself reading this) reminding me that I even started this little potential book, I wouldn't have uploaded today. So thanks, because I really do enjoy writing, I just need to learn to apply Arensmeyer's first rule of writing (Firmly apply your butt to the seat) more often. Plus I'm really bad at figuring out where a story is going to go before I write it, so that I actually know what I am going to write about... Like I really need to learn to create an outline of sorts to map out the story line, but I always forget... But anyway, thanks Callie...

SOOOOOOOOOO..... from now on, I'll try to post a new chapter every Friday, although I might still slip up....

Let me know if you liked it and leave a comment.... Thanks!

 Tay