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What Flavor of Awesome Were You Going to Be?

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So this song/video. I love it. I lovelovelovelove it.

It is everything that I believed my 20’s would be, back in the 90’s, when I was a teenager in matte burgundy lipstick and a black spandex baby t. Oh god. I was going to live some kind of reality-bites meets before sunrise meets Empire Records  spiffy-cool-awesome life in a shitbox/fabulous apartment above a toboccanists or coin store (in an old building) and work in a bar, and  drink Tecate and Pacifica and be always on the verge of moving to California or New York, but somehow end up in quirky cities around the world. Yes. I was going to have experiences.

I would live in a tiny bedsit over a noodle shop in Osaka. I would do avant garde dadaist shoe-art and be in a foxcore band. I was going to have a cold-water flat in one of the shitty arrondissements in Paris, and work as a Tea Shop waitress in Manchester. I was going to sleep in Hostels in Prague and become a fixture in a ski town for a couple of winters. I was going to be that one girl. College was not part of my plans, it was all sparkles and booze and art…

And sensitive musician dudes with brooding cheekbones and melting brown/ hazel/green/blue eyes who would take me to an old railroad bridge and drink sloe-gin fizzes whilst saying meaningless shit like “I love you. But I’m afraid to love you.” We would break each-others hearts like that one Third Eye Blind album. He would do shit like leave bananas warpped in newspaper on the steps to my apartment. He would smoke with casual sexy abandon, and would wear one (1) iconic piece of jewlery. We would both have other lovers but inexorably return to each-other after our travels, only to break each others hearts again. Oh yes. The sensitive jaw length 90’s hair. The quirk. I wanted these things so badly.

I would, by the way, have beaded doorway curtains, enamelware plates and a fridge from the fifties. I would drive a series of old Peugeot/Renaults/Subarus and have a sparkly black fender and amp. I might even have a scooter during my Milanese interlude.

I was going to be fucking awesome y’all. Who were you going to be?


About Pepper

Pepper Lee Hales is a twenty something, married, vicious feminist liberal. She likes dogs, cats, spiders, epistemics and cake.

5 responses »

  1. You know… I don’t really know. I don’t think I ever saw past my vodka martini (or maybe it was two-dollar bottle of wine, at the time) to wonder who I was going to be.

    I am serious. I don’t think I thought that far ahead. I kicked ass in school (while my friends lost scholarships and switched departments and were threatened, numerous times, with expulsion – so how I did is confusing), I was always moving forward but… never with specific plans about who I would become…

    And yet… I am exactly where I’d like to be.

    I’m weird, huh.

  2. Ha ha, you’re just the most well adjusted person in the room.

    I think my fantasies (while I am glad that I didn’t actually live them because fuck, that shit sounds exhausting and I know now not really that much fun), got me through the worst of my teenage/young adulthood. And the worst was pretty rife with spiritual and physical abuse (fucking Jehova’s Wittnesses) complete poverty and lots of drugs and drinking. I look back on my younger self with a lot of tenderness, because she had it so rough, but managed to have such wild hopes for herself. On the balance, I’m also pretty happy with where I am, in spite of it all.

  3. At seventeen, I kicked ass with my cheap guitar, and dreamed of a big Marshall amp and a sunburst Les Paul Custom, and of Naomi Campbell and other models, too. I was fated to pretend… Good thing I teared into pieces that rock-star dream. Now, may I become the artist I am? As in becoming who I am, not who I want to be?

    • That’s the key, isn’t it? Becoming who we really are, even when it isn’t as cool as who we thought we wanted to be. And also growing the hell up and realizing that the really interesting people are the dedicated, authentic, quirky one’s that follow their vision instead of conventional success. Or maybe that’s just what I tell myself 😛

  4. Forget who I wanted to be, I think I’d rather be who you wanted to be =D
    My dreams were just materialistic BS about all the things I’d buy some day.


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