I'll be 45 soon. V and I have been dreaming of ways to celebrate my 16,000+ days in this planet. Seattle in October would be a lovely gift in orange and gold. Boston is far but we can't stop dreaming of maple trees. Regardless, my birthday is near and I can't help having birthday flashbacks.
When I was 14 years old I was aware that I was not a pretty girl. I knew my parents would not throw a quinceañera for me 'cause I was not princess material, I was more of a Josefina girl ( by the way, my personal definition of a quinceañera is a fucked-up party for young Mexican girls who are willing to learn the fine art social conformity and who are willing to full fill some sick psycho sexual fantasy of their fathers. Okay, perhaps I'm exaggerating a little, but I think I'm damn close).
My parents still asked me if I wanted a quinceañera, but I think they were just being courteous. I told them I didn't want one which was a great relief for them since quinceañera fiestas do cost a lot of money. Of course, I didn't let my parents off the hook that easily, I told them I wanted a big stereo instead. What can I say? Rock and roll and big ass speakers excited me more than parties for 15 year old girls.
When my birthday arrived, my father took me to the Mexican side of town where they had cheap mueblerias for poor immigrants. I took a Blondie record with me to test the loudness of the speakers. I played Dreaming over and over until I found the stereo I wanted. I received strange looks from the sales clerk for wanting loud rock for my 15th birthday.
My brother helped set up the stereo in my bedroom. He was impressed with the size of the speakers, but not the my taste in music. He kept shaking his head as if those brand new speakers and my new stereo would be wasted on rock and roll. My four sisters came to my bedroom to see my birthday gift and to give me a sorry looks. They didn't understand why I had chosen a stereo instead of the quinceañera. They told me that if I had gotten a better haircut and with a little make-up perhaps I would have been a decent 15 year old. But there was no turning back, I knew the stereo was worth it. When you're a Josefina girl you learn quickly you don't have much in life. That day, on my 15th birthday, I had music in stereo.
To the punkish Josefina girl I was in 1980 who danced this mess around and shouted Why don't you dance with me?!
And because dreaming is free---and because I didn't give a flying fucking fuck if my speakers were wasted on Blondie.
Guiño a Plympton. [Flickr]
17 hours ago