I wanna be an anarchist

So, I have spent today thinking about how I discovered punk rock.  What in my past led me to the Sex Pistols, The Clash, Vivienne Westwood, and so much more.  I do believe punk rock led me to discover all of my fascination I still hold to this day.  Without ever reading all the books ever published about the Sex Pistols I never would have known who Vivienne Westwood was, therefore, never knowing what designer fashion was.  Without the Sex Pistols I never would have watched movies such as "Sid & Nancy".  But how did I get from point A to point B?  I can't seem to figure out.  The first thing I can remember is doing a speech on Sid Vicious in the ninth grade.  I remember how scared most of the class looked, while I stood there retelling the life and times of John Simon Ritchie.  I won over the heart of the scary Metallica loving kid, the kind who was short, wore leather wrist cuffs, and thought all his peers were pansies.  I remember he even wore those leather cuffs in gym class.  In our peer evaluation he wrote that he was surprised by my famous person choice and it "rocked".  My first email ever was johnsimonritchie@hotmail.com.  Which I was sent emails from older men in punk rock bands that I believed would be the Sex Pistols of my time, letting me know when they would be coming through my small suburban town.  I feel I owe my whole life, my whole identity to the Sex Pistols, somehow.  The first boy I ever had a serious crush on gave me an original copy of "Never Mind the Bollocks", it was his fathers.  My first vinyl ever for that matter.  But for some reason I can't figure out how I came to love the Sex Pistols so much, where it spawned from.  The first book over 1000 pages I ever read was a non-fiction piece about "Anarchy, Sex Pistols, Punk Rock, and Beyond".  I am sure the dozens of pop band I listened in my pre teen years were influenced by the Sex Pistols, I just can't remember where and how I shifted away from that.  How all of a sudden I was a punk rock girl.  I am sure my mother was thrilled the first time she ever heard, "Anarchy in the UK" blaring through my bedroom door.  The most logical sense I can make of all this is that the bands I liked, the pretty boys in bands I liked, listed the Sex Pistols as influences.  And I am sure in my girly logic I thought that if I knew all there was to know about the Sex Pistols I would then have something in common with all the pretty boys in all the pop bands, so if I was ever to meet them, they for sure would want to marry me because we had so much in common, the common thread being the Sex Pistols.  But somehow, as my fascination grew, I realized saying the Sex Pistols were an influence was just a cool thing to say for a pretty boy in a wimpy pop band.  But by this point, I chose the Pistols over the pretty boys.  I started to sleep with punk rockers every night, a Sid Vicious poster on one wall and Joe Strummer on the other.  I think I loved the Pistols before I loved Bowie.  Imagine that, I can't believe I just admitted that.  That can't be right, can it?  This is the thing the timeline is getting all skewed.  I think I listened to Bowie before the Pistols, but fandom started with the Pistols.  My first painting on a canvas was of Sid Vicious.  I had to make the swastika on his shirt a diamond shape, to be more school appropriate.  I wanted so badly to wear leather pants and t-shirts with safety pins up the sides of them.  I never did though.  I was far to classy, always have been, always will be.  I started going to average american shitty punk rock shows because I believed I would be taking part in something of same caliber as all the late 70's punk rockers in London.  I wanted to be the Nancy to my Sid.  I wanted to be a Vivienne to my Pistols.  I wanted to dress them all up in modified dandy outfits, ones Vivienne would have been proud of, I wanted to go on tour, and be the girl in the background of all the shots once the documentary was made.  The Sex Pistols taught me not to give a fuck about what all the average wankers have to say.  To demand more from life then the average.  The Sex Pistols sparked something in me years ago that still burns today.