This is an important public service announcement for everyone out there named Starshine. (And for the rest of you, who think it’s unlikely there are others named Starshine, I would argue it’s just as unlikely that I’m able to spell Starshine considering the hallucinogens my parents consumed before and perhaps during my conception, so I’m a bettin’ girl.)
As we Starshines know, our unusual name is rife with perks. For example, people are often too embarrassed to say Starshine out loud, so they avoid talking to us entirely, which can be really lovely. And it’s always fun to introduce ourselves to old people, who inevitably try to recall the abominable lyrics to the song “Good Morning Starshine”: “Is it ‘glibby glup gloopy’ … or ‘gliddy glop glooby’?” Plus, we enjoy almost mainstream-moniker status when compared to Frank Zappa’s kids, Moon Unit, Dweezil, and Diva Thin Muffin; at least Starshine is, like, a thing.
Still, there’s a downside to our name, and I think you all know what I’m talking about. Look, I’m sure every name has its own cross to bear. You think it’s easy for guys called Romeo and Jesus? And let’s all say a little prayer for girls named Britney or Lindsay, and born after, say, 1998.