RIP "teen crisis" 2k11!

So I sort of spent the past six months of my life undergoing this so-called teen identity crisis of mine, during which I found myself unable to obsess over anything else. I penned two editorials on the issue, devoted four weeks to intense teen movie watching, and did a ton of moaning on tumblr, but only now do the answers to my teen identity seem so simple and obvious. Only now can I see that living in suburbia, and feeling unfulfilled with living in suburbia, actually made ~*being a teenager*~ stupid easy. I was miserable the whole time! Except for when I wasn't. Except for when I was on a 1st string teenage high!

"1st String Teenage High" // Tullycraft

This Tullycraft song might actually be my first full-on life anthem. Never before have I felt so heavily attached to a song's lyrics and how they manage to completely relay my own sentiments. (It's not that I've never viewed other songs as my anthem before, it's just that this song makes me realize that those songs didn't even come close. I mean, there's definitely something endearing about being a 15-year-old who thinks VU's "Stephanie Says" totally gets her isolation and inability to carry on simple phone conversations, but looking back, I kind of want to barf at how melodramatic that was.)

I've been meaning to write about "1st String Teenage High" for the past week or so, but after yesterday my affections for the song have doubled. Last night I took the train into New York with my friend Katie to go see The Pains of Being Pure at Heart open for The Kills at Terminal 5. Now, I've been making this hour-long trek into the city to see indie rock shows ever since my parents started allowing me to at 15, and it still is the most rewarding ritual I have. There's been nothing in the world more fun for me than being able to do this during all four years of high school, but last night may have been the final "1st String Teenage High"-esque episode of my young life. I'm not sad or anything. Just highly reflective about this end to an era. I move to New York City and into my dorm at NYU in less than three weeks. Oh. My. God. For all we know I might be a jaded asshole with clavicle piercings and an Altoids box full of adderall in a few months. I mean, I sincerely doubt it, but who am I to be so sure? I'm excited beyond belief to live in a city with access to so many things I love, but expectations are dangerous so I usually try to keep mine to a minimum while also finding ways to romanticize disillusionment.

Still, it's pretty hard to doubt the fact that going to indie rock shows ("indie rock shows" really just meaning non-Top 40 bands playing gigs that aren't at MSG) will be significantly easier. No more single-ride metrocards. No more admitting to being under 21. No more rushing back to Penn Station to make the last NJ Transit line. No more eating strawberry Poptarts in my parents' kitchen at 3:00 am.

I think I've earned it, though.

-Leah