Streetlight Diaries

I wonder if the younger, more cool version of me ever thought I’d be sitting in drummer’s bedroom alone on a Sunday afternoon, writing my second book and wondering whether to keep plugging along or to just lay down and take a nap in the middle of all these pillows. I’m sure there was a prior me who would’ve freaked out to put my stuff down on a Pull the Pin road case, or wear Anthony Pending’s pajama pants because I left mine at home. Truthfully, I wonder what Anthony was thinking, leaving a crazed fan girl like me alone with his stuff. I could be playing his drum set or deleting click tracks from his iPod. I could be going through his movie collection or trying on his clothes. (I’m only doing the last two.) In my opinion, musicians should really be more careful as to who they let in and let loose in their private, rock ‘n roller mansion bedrooms, because if I get writer’s block, I’m not responsible for what might happen.  

Terica.

I never gave you your birthday present. Or was a congratulatory gift to commemorate your record release? I can’t remember, or see clearly for that matter, through such a blur of streaked tribulations as you and I always have been.

A long time ago, I made you a bunch of promises, all of which I admit, I’ve tried my best to shatter beyond repair. Yet, you’re still a distraction, every now and then, and when you come up for air it’s only for a moment until you’re gone, vanished to unreachable depths once again.

I’ve read the letters I never gave you maybe a hundred to a hundred and five times each. And each time it’s like I’m looking for something new, something that’s changed in our story- something that I must have read wrong the first ninety-nine times around. It’s like I’m trying to understand something, although the memories I’ve saved are unforgivable and as unmalleable as wrought iron.  

I never gave you the letters because, you never wanted them. It was a record release. You ‘needed’ me to be there.

e.

Recently, I gave thanks for the busy nature of my current situations and endeavors. I wanted to stop and understand that with the arrival of hopes and dreams- of romance- there comes also a natural flourish in risk and perhaps, fear. There is farther to fall. Even more recently then, I have had an proposition placed in front of me, one that would offer stability and security, but require a commitment that strays away from the time I do still have for my passions and creativity. In thinking it over, there seems to be so much at stake and yet, still so much to gain. But with my allowed thinking period over, a decision must be in my nearest future and I’m left here considering- is this really about what is being offered? Or instead, is it about what is possible should I pass the offer up?

When a prospective path is presented to you, it is sometimes just as big an opportunity to walk away from it as it is to take it. The reverse of accepting this chance, this promotion in front of me, is accepting a wide open space; if I turn it down, I suddenly have endless possibilities to choose from for the next chapter of my life. It’s the whole, ‘you can do anything you set your mind to’ and the ‘get up and go.’ In this light, what do I really have to lose by walking away? Well, I’ve consider this for over a week.

Do I want to be stable? Yes; more than anything I want to feel safe enough to take life above and beyond. But then again, change is not something I’m particularly good at. And yet… in how many times of stressful sorrow have I wished change to come sooner? The answer is very, very many. And how many times have I not overcome the strains and struggles of life’s ever changing ways, plunging deep into an irreversible well of anxiety in which I cannot climb out? The answer is zero. I have made it through every opportunity that has ever been given to me by either making the right choice or the wrong. The truth is, it’s not about either choice at all, but the decision to prevail no matter what. And so I choose to live in the ‘what if,’ the ‘what can I do?’ and the possibility of what hasn’t happened yet, instead of the ‘this is steady,’ and ‘this is safe.’ It’s not in me to settle, and this time, I feel there is more around the next corner for my pen and I. So I begin slowly the preparation of turning and I set my eyes to the horizon.

Terica.

Go, get lost, so that some day love can find you again. T.

I don’t know why other girls hate on me so much; I only stay close to band guys so that I can be the first to hear new songs, get them on my ipod, and use them to dance around at home while staring at my perfect hair and freshly painted eyeliner in the bathroom mirror.