Streetlight Diaries

So Streetlight is making the move to the ever-mentioned tumblr for several reasons. For one, it lets me keep track of you guys better since some of you regulars are just soo persistant in staying anonymous until I’m standing right in front of you. Second, it has pretty colors. And I dig that. So right now I’m laying on the bed of my childhood bedroom in upstate NY with Every Avenue in my ears so I can’t hear the pack of wild dogs howling out my window. Strange. I used to be accustomed to that kinda thing. If a train blew past or a plane zoomed over right now I wouldn’t think twice, but the dogs…I dunno. It’s unsettling, to be in a world you are no longer keenly familiar. Because you see, Streetlight isn’t the only one caught in a transition, I am as well. I think one of the reasons I am so compromising to myself at times is lack of substantial evidence that I am somebody. Because the first quarterish of my life (I’m going to live to 107) was defined by what I did. I was a dancer. A performer. I let it consume my life and my identity, my mentality. Now these trophies look like a pack of wild dogs. I don’t know them. I know how I would move to this song though. I dance around in one of Nicky C’s tshirts to half the song and then before I know it the last chord has rung out. I have zoned out the second half, letting EAJosh consume my imagination. So what am I? Am I the girl with sequins for smiles and trophies in her hands? Or am I the personality, with a pen in her palm and gaff tape around her wrist. I love myself so much more now, since dance has been not required. This follow-up lifestyle certainly has it’s cons; like needing an outfit that puts you everywhere at once, or getting the chance to see him just once a month when they come through NY again. Steve Perry sure knew what he was talking about. I miss the audiences. I miss the glitter and the attitude. But I adore the scene. Any scene. I could fall in love with the hair and the progressions over and over again every night. So what of choosing? And what of this transition. What do you make of my love for that which is untouchable? Could a boys in a van a million miles away really be…everything to me? I’d rather fall asleep alone than stumble backwards. I’d rather miss him than miss this.

We get maybe one chance, to have a say in what keeps us warm at night.  The grim looks like glitter to me.

Think of you later. 

…Terica.

“Think Of You Later” by: Every Avenue