The Day I Became Regina George’s Burn Book

We all have that song. You know, the one you belt out in the shower or hum dramatically when life feels like a telenovela? For me, it started with Gloria Estefan's “Conga.” At five years old, my Velcro sneakers couldn’t keep up with my unhinged dance moves in our Little Havana living room. My dad always said the beat had “marciana” energy—otherworldly, like it came from outer space and had landed exclusively in my limbs. (Translation for those not fluent in dad humor: it was phenomenal.) But music wasn’t just noise in my house—it was our third language after Spanish and Spanglish, the pulse of every celebration and the soundtrack to every heartbreak.

If life can be distilled into moments strung together by melodies, then my playlist is like those mixtapes your middle school crush handed you to decode their feelings—chaotic, heartfelt, maybe a little cringe, but entirely mine. From salsa mornings to heartbreak anthems, here’s the musical timeline of my life so far.

1. Salsa Saturdays & Family Tangos: The Foundation

If my family had a theme song, it would be Celia Cruz’s “La Vida Es Un Carnaval.” Picture this: Saturday mornings at 8 a.m., I’m still clinging to my pillow when the blender roars to life, the unmistakable sign that my mom is making batidos de mamey. Before I can summon enough energy to roll over, Celia starts singing from the speakers like an alarm clock with sabor, and suddenly, the house smells of Pine-Sol and nostalgia. Cleaning was just mandatory cardio disguised as culture.

As a kid, I’d wonder why every salsa or bolero lyric involved unrequited love or melodramatic confessions. My abuelita used to nod wisely and say, “Ay, mija. Life’s about learning to love, lose, and dance through it all.” Years later, I found myself crying over my first heartbreak to the same songs we once cha-cha’d to in the kitchen. Was it emotional whiplash hearing Gilberto Santa Rosa croon about heartbreak while remembering mopping floors? Absolutely. But that’s the magic of salsa: it’s layered like my abuelita’s flan—saccharine, complex, bittersweet.

Takeaway: Every origin story needs a foundation. Whether it’s salsa, rap, or bubblegum pop, the music of your childhood shapes how you move—literally and figuratively—in the world.

2. The “I’m a Mystery” Phase (Aka Emo Middle School Years)

And then… it happened. The glittering backdrop of salsa gave way to bangs, eyeliner, and—don’t judge me—a notebook filled with misunderstood poetry. I blame it on Avril Lavigne and whatever hormonal anarchy middle school triggers. My playlists suddenly traded congas for Goo Goo Dolls, and forget Celia, now it was Hayley Williams of Paramore who got me.

One diary entry even read, “I’m not sure if I’m a Leo or, like, an Aries… but also maybe a Scorpio inside?” Like, what?! I didn’t even know astrology then. But music felt like the key to hitting a personality reset. I curated playlists with painful precision on my iPod Shuffle (the one that looked like a stick of gum), convinced the right lineup would telepathically attract a cute skater boy who’d skate dramatically into my life while “Sk8er Boi” played in the background. He didn’t (thank God), but I did learn that “misunderstood” wasn’t a personality type.

Takeaway: The “trying on someone else’s feelings” phase is important. Sure, maybe I didn’t need Fall Out Boy lyrics written all over my backpack in Sharpie, but experimenting with musical identities taught me to own my quirks instead of masking them.

3. Dancing Through My Quarter-Life Crisis

Ah, New York City—a city full of potential, overpriced lattes, and screaming subway buskers who swear they'll be the next big thing. Moving to NYC for an internship and a fresh start brought a lot: dreams the size of the Empire State Building and a crushing sense of imposter syndrome.

Enter Bad Bunny, reggaetón’s holy patron saint of “You can handle your mierda.” While I was spiraling over whether I’d ever “make it,” Benito was busy whisper-screaming, “Sigue bailando, no pares.” Keep dancing, don’t stop. I listened. I was broke but fueled by beats rumbled through AirPods as I stomped my way through crowded avenues. His unapologetic lyrics about heartbreak and empowerment had me doing a two-step between humility and confidence.

One memory stands out: tears in my eyes after a rejection email, I blasted Rosalía’s “Con Altura” in my teeny, windowless apartment. Did I feel chaotic for salsa-dancing by myself to lyrics I barely understood? Of course. Was it one of the most freeing moments of my adult life? Without question.

Takeaway: Every hard era demands a hype playlist. Music reminds you that no bad moment is permanent and sometimes, the best medicine is screaming lyrics in traffic—even if they don’t rhyme with your life yet.

4. Love, Letdowns & Beyoncé’s Sermons

Because no appropriately dramatic life playlist skips heartbreak, let me introduce you to my musical therapist: Beyoncé. After dating a guy who once said, “I think it’s weird you don’t like pineapple pizza” (!!!), we broke up shockingly fast. This low-key betrayal led me straight to Lemonade.

This wasn’t just “drop the mic” empowerment music; it was an education. “Hold Up” had me analyzing jealousy on a molecular level, while “Sorry” made me realize self-worth had been MIA in that relationship for a while. Sometimes, love’s soundtrack isn’t about violins—it’s about anthems that remind you how to hype yourself after life’s symphonies go silent.

And when love returned in healthier hues? Billie Eilish and Atahualpa Yupanqui entered my playlist in surprising synchronicity. (Nothing’s quite as magical as realizing someone shares your Spotify—but not your trauma playlist.)

Takeaway: Whatever phase love finds you, celebrate auditory growth. One breakup song morphs into the playlist that plays during your next first kiss. The evolution is where the beauty lies.

5. Back to Roots: The Legacy Playlist

About once a month, I drive from Miami Beach to my parents’ house in my trustworthy secondhand Nissan Altima. That drive is precious—and noisy. Wisin & Yandel? Check. DJ Khaled (Miami royalty)? Double check. Somewhere between Pitbull yelling, “Dale!” and Marc Anthony crooning about longing, I feel wildly me.

Legacy matters. I’m teaching my niece what “sabor” means via Spotify, bridging generations with the same songs my parents once danced to on hardwood floors. She laughed the first time I busted out Daddy Yankee’s “Gasolina,” but now she knows the words. See? Timeless.

Takeaway: Whatever culture or community you draw from, don’t lose its playlist—make it louder. Music has context, history, and the best way to honor it is by sharing it.

Life, with all its highs and heartbreaks, would be dull without a solid soundtrack. Whether you’re searching for flirty jams, crying to Son by Four, or finally celebrating yourself with Doja Cat, remember: music moves us forward—sometimes literally when a guy takes too long to text back.

Next time someone asks about your playlist, don’t play it off. That curated chaos? It’s pure magic.