|David Lynch's "Duran Duran Unstaged"|
And then you collapse in the recliner, because your 44 year old body is not used to jumping up and down and squealing.
And while you’re collapsed, the music creates in your mind a jumbled mess of memories, mixed with present day worries, and you start to see patterns and faces, and everything runs together to the point that you don’t know what is Real and what is Regret.
With a daughter in the house who is sneaking into tween territory (without my permission, I might add), emotions, hormones, and tempers are running high. There is often screaming and door slamming, followed by teary apologies and requests to cuddle.
Baby-ness fighting against a takeover of grown-up proportions.
The approach of puberty has brought with it a whole shit-storm of issues, one of the top hot-button subjects being friendship troubles.
All of a sudden, everything has become about friends. Friends have always been important, but now, it’s all WHY DIDN’T SO-AND-SO INVITE ME TO HER BIRTHDAY PARTY. And WHO IS PARTNERS WITH WHOM IN SPANISH CLASS. And SO-AND-SO IS STEALING MY FRIEND AWAY, MOM. And NO ONE LIKES ME EXCEPT FOR THIS ONE IRRITATING GIRL WHO EVERYONE HATES, AND WHOM I DON’T REALLY LIKE EITHER BECAUSE SHE’S BOSSY AND ANNOYING.
Is your head hurting yet? Because mine is. In fact, I need a drink. Or an escape pod to the Planet Why-Can’t-We-All-Just-Get-Along.
Cue the memories, some buried deep, but loosening and scraping their way to the surface, aided by an evening of indulging in the songs of my youth.
Poised in front of the phone on the kitchen wall, curly-q cord twisted around my arm for good measure, I gripped my mother’s VISA card, waiting for the numbers on the “digital” clock to flip from 9:59 to 10:00 am. The year was 1984.
Weeks of planning led up to this moment when Rainbow Ticketmaster seemingly held the key to all future happiness. My heart raced as the clock turned and I dialed the phone number, only to be greeted with an annoying busy signal in my ear.
After a frenzy of frantic redialing, I finally broke through to a bored female voice on the other end of the line, and I placed my order for tickets to the Duran Duran concert.
As I savor this enjoyable memory, I realize it is also tinged with a ghost of a dark cloud. There are snippets of discourse attached to it, details muddled.
I can hear my own teenaged voice lamenting, WHY IS SHE GOING TO THE CONCERT WITH HER INSTEAD OF ME? WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH ME? I THOUGHT WE WERE BEST FRIENDS! I’LL SHOW HER! I’LL FIND EVEN MORE FUNNERER FRIENDS TO GO WITH! *sobs into pillow after slamming bedroom door, sending Duran Duran wall poster plummeting to floor*
Times have not really changed, even though phones are anchored to kids’ palms instead of kitchen walls.
Amidst all the fun they have together, girls still have issues with each other in the form of jealousy, competition, and hurt feelings.
I don’t have any magic advice to give my daughter other than 1) be yourself, 2) be kind, and 3) it will all be OK.
Oh, and someday, you and these same girls will all be friends on The Next Facebook, all the drama will be long forgotten, and everyone will love each other and live happily ever after.
Just hang in there, kid.