The Glamour Diary
Matilda Caboose

Sunday December 11th, 199X

	Going home, to me at least, is like traveling back in time. As I boarded that city bus, I wondered if what I would find in the past would make me not want to return to the future. If somewhere along the road I had forgotten everything that made the past wonderful and was ignorant to all the things that make the future awful. Today I wore a yellow sundress with a pair of tinted glasses and a casual straw hat. Just like I anticipated, everyone left me alone. It was uncommon to not even warrant a second glance; it happened to me so often when I wandered around the city; but I also saw it as a breath of fresh air. The inside of the bus felt crisp and over air conditioned, so I sat in one of the seats above the motor. The crowd seemed pretty stale to me. A father and daughter, a few elderly people, a handful of lone men and women. Most of the bus remained vacant, which was another breath of fresh air to me. I have spent so much of my life surrounded by others, good and bad, that I started to forget how important it was to be alone once in a while. There isn’t much to do on the bus, so all I can think of is writing. The windows are fogged up, but outside I can see that the scenery is slowly changing from urban to rural: signs start to disappear, houses shrink into homes, and forestry starts to engulf the countryside. From the looks of things, I would guess that we’re passing through downtown Threed. When I was younger, I would come to this place with my friends when we were bored, even though there was little different between the two towns. The circus tent is still pitched in the same place it was six years ago, I see. It looks a lot smaller than I remember it. 
	Even though the trip only takes about a day, it feels like years are passing by as I sit here and take in the shock of revisiting places I haven’t seen for so long. Before I could drink in my surroundings any more, night fell almost instantly on the town, and I could not see out the window. I could see that everyone around me was sleeping soundly, all of their lights having been turned off. More time must have passed than I had thought, but I guess that happens when you’re reflecting upon the past. I’ve been so busy turning over the past and future in my head that I’ve forgotten that time keeps on marching forward. I guess I should sleep while I can. I doubt retreating to my hometown will give me any less to worry about. 

Monday December 12th, 199X

	Things have changed in the time I was gone. It was hard for me to believe I had ever lived here at all. I got off the bus from Fourside at about noon, hoping the memories I had of home would remain intact. The idyllic atmosphere I remembered was tarnished with the smell of steel. I had never thought my own hometown would become prey to…well, progression, I guess. Somewhere in my heart I hoped I would come back and find everything the way that I had left it six years ago. The city streets were crowded with faces I should recognize, but…the faces that I know are far away now. They might have left and foolishly chased their dreams the way that I did, but I doubt they all had this kind of fortunate ending. Mom seemed happy to see me. She had never thought what I did was responsible or reasonable, but she would send me letters every week anyway. She seemed more withered than I had remembered, the house much cleaner without my things cluttering up the furniture. She invited me in with a faint smile on her face, like she felt the same fear I had; that everything would be different. She didn’t anticipate her little girl becoming successful when she started out on such an unstable path. She expected me to come back as a wreck, with tears streaming down my face, just happy to be in my own house again. What she saw was a woman who had learned to stand on her own two feet and could make it by herself, in the real world. She lay out a dainty cup of tea for me and a plate of French toast with marmalade on it - the same thing she would serve me when I was a little girl. She tells me that she worries about me, and wishes I would come back to Twoson and settle down. She wishes I would return to suburbia after spending so many years in the big city and try living like everyone else, without all the glitz and glamour of my current lifestyle. My mother would never be jealous of her own off spring, and my kind of modern living would never be her idea of pleasure, so I assumed her words were spoken for my sake. I can understand where her concern stems from, the natural worry parents have for the well being of their children, but the look she gives me has more pity in it than affection.
	Though I came home to try and dispel my longing for security, the sensations I have felt so far are anything but comforting. I can see myself in the faces of every girl patrolling the city streets, their real selves powdered over with a thick layer of make up, just like I did when I was their age. Would they see me and think, ‘that’s what I want to be”? Would they give it a second thought even? What they want is not me, they want Venus. They want to have the same hair as Venus. They dream every night that they will wake up the next morning with bouncy blonde hair and a bewitching smile. What should I say to them? Am I in a position to give them advice at all? 
	I thought of going to see my old friends this afternoon, but after all the memories I thought would remain intact have deteriorated, I thought it would be best if I left those black and white days the way they were intended instead of bringing them into color. The first day of my trip, I sat at home and wished I could just fly back to where I belong.

Tuesday December 13th 199X

	When I told my mom that I was planning on going on a tour of Eagleland in 200X, she confirmed all my deepest fears. She told me how much she missed me when I was away. I wanted her to know that I was grown up now and that I would be fine on my own. I wish I could just tell her what a fool she sounded like, babbling about being unconventional and irresponsible. She had always thought that my singing was something to be celebrated, but it wasn’t the sort of thing you can make a career out of. I asked her where she thought all the musicians on the radio had come from, and she wouldn’t answer me. I reassured her that the tour was only a concept at this point. She just took another sip of tea, and didn’t look up again until I said goodbye, and left the house.
	As I walked down the avenue I remembered from my childhood, the only thing that remained the same, I was reminded of how wonderful it felt to be up on that stage – the sun was beating down on me like the hundreds of heat lamps that decorate the Topolla Theater, as the clouds stood silently, waiting for me to begin my marvelous performance. The drug store I knew was now a multi-level complex that stood out among the other typical buildings on the street. As I went in, I was immediately hit with the aroma of stale bread and moist pizza. Walls that once were adorned with bright advertisements were now drab and uninspired. The green-blue tiles were now a pale, sickly shade of white. I ordered myself a slice of pizza at a questionable restaurant, and  sat down at one of the many shaded tables that dotted the second floor. Though the pizza tasted like cardboard, it helped block out my sense of taste as I took in the scenes I saw unfold around the food court. A young girl no older than fourteen was dining, if you could call it that, with a mature looking boy across the store. The young man bore a striking resemblance to a boy I used to know myself. In fact, I started to feel like I was in the past again, watching myself eat pizza with this taciturn boyfriend. The girl had the same naïve smile that I always had plastered on my face back then. The boy had an amused expression on as well, like the one Terry would always make when I would tell him about my petty problems. Terry had lived in Twoson since I was twelve, when we first met at the town’s local theater. He was a cheerful boy who always seemed to be alone, and I was an innocent girl who was always surrounded by friends. We felt that we both had things the other would love to have. Maybe that lack of character is what bonded us together for so many years. As my taste buds took a beating, I started to feel that warm feeling I had been looking for. This was what I had missed all these years. I secretly hoped that girl would find the happiness I felt as an adult without all the pain and heartbreak I went through. I think most people deserve it. 
	After the two left, I poked around the department store a bit, looking for something to do besides returning to my troubled mother. Things seemed to have gone on fine without me around, which comforted me a little bit. No one knew my name anymore. They might see a CD with my face on the cover and think that that is how they want their lives to be, and who would ever tell them other wise? It was hard for me to accept that the things that make people happy are often shallow and short lived in nature. After only a few hours of bored wandering, I accepted that for today, there was no more comfort I could find in old memories. I couldn’t sleep that night. I kept wondering what I would have been like if I had stayed bound to this place. I couldn’t stand the nagging feeling of retracing my footsteps anymore. I felt ready to go back, even if there was no one there to greet me when I arrived.

Wednesday December 14th 199X

	The next morning I left at four o’clock without saying a word to my mother. I left her a ticket to my “Christmas Wonderland Concert” and a note letting her know I was okay. I knew mom would ask me to stay with her until Christmas, but I would have had to politely decline. It’s not so much that I don’t want to spend time with her or spend time making new memories in this sad place. I just needed to go home again. It had taken me this long to recognize that this place will always be my hometown, but it will never again be my home. If I have a true home, it lies past the desert, where I can always feel light pouring down over me. Whether it’s from the rays of the sun or from a spotlight, my home is on the stage.         
							~ Michaela “Venus” Lundsford