Angst No More

I first heard this song in 2001, the year it was released as a single. 2001 was the time that public musical tastes were switching from boy band bubblegum pop to so-called nü rock, sometimes called nü metal depending on the heaviness of the music. As my peers are familiar with, nü rock is a short-lived genre of rock primarily composed of songs with teen angst themes saturated in lyrics vague or ambiguous enough to pick up emotional issues relevant to the teenagers listening to them.

It was an age of self-discovery for me. I was thirteen, and it was the beginning of my tumultuous adolescence. Like my peers, I was persistently challenged by the demanding requirements of high school education lasting in the next four years. Scholastic responsibilities bore down on me along with bullying experiences that generally broke my motivation to excel at anything I was actually good at.

I was not one of those amazing “inspirational” personalities who overcame their limitations by going to the best universities despite all obstacles, boasting of marvelous academic accomplishments by the time they enter college. My own academic history was widely unremarkable, much to my own regret at present.

But at the time, I seriously felt like I was doing the best I could, and I got angry with my parents for being disappointed in me. And then, I heard this song.

If you’ve heard this song before, you probably already know it’s an anthem for teenagers who feel like their parents persistently criticize them without giving them a chance to feel their way through their daily existence—in other words, “let me make my decisions” so the youngster could learn what is right, by themselves. They feel this much anger because they feel that their parents don’t take them seriously; they feel that they “feel like I am nothing” to their parents.

The music video portrays a teenage boy dining out with his parents. Clips of him singing and screaming the song’s lyrics to his parents who practically ignore him are intercut with clips of them glancing at him only to find him in a calm but passive-aggressive demeanor. They come to the fast food diner where other small families with teenage children are also eating. It seems only the teenagers can “see” the boy in his anguish. By the bridge, all of the teenagers are screaming at their parents who, again, ignore them all—a visual representation of the line: “You don’t know how to listen.” Later, a waitress arrives to deliver food; the expression in her face hints that she somehow sensed the tension in the dining area only to find the customers eating quietly. After eating, the designated protagonist goes to an abandoned parking lot where he sees the Staind band playing until his parents call for him. Then, they go home, leaving the poor boy somewhat helpless—again, a visual representation of the line: “The silence gets us nowhere way too fast.”

Granted, there are abusive parents who shoot “insults and curses” at their children until they “feel like I’m not a person.” But the strange thing is that the kids who listen to this song are exactly the ones portrayed in the video: well-groomed and well-dressed kids with their parents in a steady relationship while they seem to earn quite enough that they afford dining out. In the case of the video’s designated protagonist, he has his own sturdy pair of headphones. It means the boy’s parents can afford giving him beautiful headphones with a portable CD player, and presumably the Staind CD he is listening to, which he probably only had to ask for.

At this point, let me just speak for myself because I now see how wrong I was for identifying with the video’s teenage characters at all. Like them, I felt like I wasn’t being taken seriously, like I was somehow worthless because nobody listened to me. Then, I watch this video again and realize I neglected one key point: I wasn’t even talking at all. Neither were the teenage characters in the video. So how were their parents supposed to know what they were feeling? How can they complain about not being listened to when they don’t even say anything? On that context, how could I?

Ten years later, I now realize I was wrong to feel that way. It was my fault my parents ever scolded me for my grades or lack of achievement; I didn’t accomplish as much as my capacity. It was my fault they didn’t know me; I didn’t talk with them. Things have been much better now. As an adult myself, I have enough practical imagination to realize it must be hard for them, too, to live for others more than their own selves. I love them very much, and I promise to love my children the same way someday. Somehow, I’ll make them understand me as much as I’ll try to understand them.

The Hunger Games Review

Maybe it's early for me to say that The Hunger Games was a disappointed; in fact, I'm disappointed with myself for being disappointed with it because I haven't even read the books and have only got the vital information on the story from my sister who recently downloaded and audio book and loved it. While I do not doubt the credibility of the book (I still intend to buy the full set to see if I might change my mind) or the skill of its author, I have quite a few problems with the characters.

Before I delve into the negative criticism, let me just point out that I do not hate The Hunger Games. I am actually impressed with this vision of a post-apocalyptic world. Although I have yet to understand why the Capitol wants to kill off a good chunk of the population that can rebuild human civilization, I like how it somehow becomes an allegory of the world today. I think it is socially relevant and really makes you think about how many governments leech out what's left of their nations' poor to exploit them as if it is a game.

This leads me to my strongest criticism of the story: I think it could have done well without a specific protagonist. I think it would have been better if each of the Tributes have their own place in the narrative, thus giving the plot more meat. By this I mean I think it would have been better if we focused on the Capitol's bullshit instead of one teenage girl's bullshit.

There, I said it: The Hunger Games' biggest flaw is its protagonist. While I understand her background and where she's coming from, I find myself not feeling for this character. As I watch as Katniss Everdeen pines for her hometown and she subsequently runs and fights for her life, I find myself idle. I don't feel like I care for this character.

Contrary to popular belief, good characterization is not all about 'relating' or identifying with her; I think it is more on caring for the character. It means you want her to succeed and survive and be happy by the end (or feel tortured for her failing). And I feel nothing like that for Katniss.

I do not hate Katniss, but I don't like her either. The first thing that turned me off about her was how she insults her mother just as she's saying goodbye. "No matter what you feel, you have to be there for her!" she orders her old lady. And before that, she is just dismissive on the woman. Okay, I understand Katniss is a teenager with her own brand of self-centeredness (this is not an insult; every teenager is self-centered at some degree). But just because she loves her sister like a daughter doesn't mean she is a wonderful, thoughtful, self-sacrificing martyr or something. If you want me to believe that, she has to understand the dynamics of loving someone; with her mother, apparently not.

The poor woman is devastated over the untimely death of her husband; while I can understand that Katniss would be angry with her for her subsequently becoming unsupportive of her two young daughters, leaving young Katniss to become the parent in the family, I think Katniss should have had better sense than to talk to her mother like that especially as she's literally facing the possibility of death. I know Katniss is not readily perceptive of the idea of falling in love. However, I think, as a woman, she should grasp better the idea of how awful it is to share your life, your soul, to someone who gives you two beautiful daughters, only to have him practically stolen from you by fate. While her mother definitely becomes halfway irresponsible, it would have been nice if Katniss stops to think: "Hey, this is my mother. I should cut her some slack now that I might never see her again."

Any chance of me giving a damn about Katniss spirals down further when I find myself rooting for some of the other characters, including seemingly antagonistic tributes like the older Black guy, the gorgeous blond guy, or the vicious knife-thrower. Despite their seeming cruelty, I find myself rooting for these characters (sorry I can't remember their names at the moment) because you have to remember that, like Katniss, they were brought to the Hunger Games against their will. They learned early on that they have to kill to survive. Despite how disgusting the concept is, I respect these characters because you just know that one basic fact, and it's enough. They don't need to resort to sob stories to take them seriously, like supposedly living in the "poorest town" of the "poorest district" where you support your family alone because your father died and your mother seemed to stop caring. But with Katniss, she seems to have all these hardships and still be awesome (with her hunting skills) and yet give me a reason to feel sorry for her. No, I'm not buying it.

And for a supposedly mature and cerebral young woman, she is extremely indecisive. I never really know what she wants in life. Sure, there are her responsibilities with her family, but other points in the plot seems to point to something involving romance. I accept that, so why can't this story just outright tell me that she's somehow interested in raising a family except she 's afraid to? Why resort to the Twilight standard "oh-I'll-just-play-with-this-other-guy's-feelings-to-test-if-I-feel-the-same-way" game?

This leads me to another peeve that irks even male fans of the franchise: Peeta is too wimpy to be taken seriously as a leading man. Don't give me that crap about him and Katniss "complementing" each other, because they don't. From the first time he and Katniss decide to be a team in the Hunger Games, all he ever does is whine and cry.

Look, I've seen men cry before, and it doesn't normally bother me. However, it does bother me that Peeta cries and Katniss is meant to become the strong one for him. While there are narratives pertaining to this type of situation, there are some narratives that do it well; The Hunger Games does not. If anything, its sole purpose is to make Katniss look good in contrast. A good writer should never have to resort to that contrived trick especially when you are dealing with a pair of characters of opposite sexes.

After some good exposure to feminist film and literature, I have since learned that so-called feminist authors are just as guilty as their male "adversaries" in demonizing the other sex. Is male demonization present in The Hunger Games? I can't tell yet. But there is definitely some Twilight-grade objectification. Peeta seems to exist to be an ornament for a contrived love triangle that shouldn't even exist when you already have something socially relevant and emotionally compelling like, you know, THE HUNGER GAMES!

Besides, if Katniss is interested in Gale, her friend from her hometown, she should have known better than to play with Peeta like that, especially when she already knows he has the hots for her. And again, why should I even bother paying attention with this subplot when I would have been happier to learn more about the other Tributes? Ugh…this is making me agitated. I think I'll write a Part 2.