I've read just now from a news article (link below) of an account of somebody's iPhone exploding in his face. It has been reported that similar occurrences have happened to iPods. This scared me, because I've been an iPod owner for almost a year. But the news article explained that the explosions are probably caused by overheated lithium batteries, which probably means that the iPods that exploded were probably overcharged.
Therefore, I advise fellow iPod users (iPhone users included) to check your devices when charging them. Be sure to unplug or disconnect them once they are fully charged to avoid overheating them.
http://ph.news.yahoo.com/afp/20090814/ttc-us-france-it-internet-telecom-apple-0de2eff.html
Friday, August 14, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
A Feminist Analysis of Ratatouille
Just for the record, I am not a feminist. Although I believe in the equality of the sexes, I do not believe in the adage, “A woman can do anything that a man can do.” Neither am I the kind of woman that would complain about Dolores Umbridge and Bellatrix Lestrange being the main villains of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and being second-in-command only to more powerful male villains. I don’t have a problem with having the desire to be taken care of. However, I have great respect for women—fictional or not—who know what they want and know how to get it, without letting any man to get in the way.
This brings my attention to the only female main character of the Pixar film Ratatouille, Colette Tatou. A chef in the kitchen of the gourmet restaurant Gusteau’s, Mademoiselle Colette is introduced as the mentor and partner of Alfredo Linguini, after he is mistakenly recognized as the creator of a fabulous new soup, which was really created by Remy the rat. “I am the only woman in this kitchen!” she says to Linguini on his first day of work. “I have been working too hard for too long to get here, and I am not going to jeopardize it for some garbage boy who got lucky!” (It is no surprise why she is an uptight nagger throughout the film. Tired women do that.)
It is clear that Colette has a strong personality. She can make Linguini shudder and recoil just by her mere presence. She initially sees Linguini as competition; it is her greatest misfortune to even be involved with him. “Haute cuisine is an antiquated hierarchy built upon rules written by stupid old men—rules designed to make it impossible for women to enter this world. But I’m still here,” she explains to him. To her, it shouldn’t matter that she is a woman; she can cook—and well, at that—and she is set to move beyond what the masculinist society dictates upon members of her gender.
Come to think of it, her motives are similar to Remy’s, who also wants to become more than what he really is. So now it bothers me that by the middle of the story, Linguini, under Remy’s control, has become the talk of the town just days after “his” soup’s popularity grew, and Colette lets it happen, putting her in the same position as she had been before. It bothers me even more that shortly after Gusteau’s reclaims its fame, she is shown to have given in to Linguini’s affections. It is implied that all she’s been looking for all along was love. She lowers her shield and lets an arrow pierce her, and that was it. All of a sudden, she is contented with being second place just when she’s halfway to her goal.
I understand that the theme of Ratatouille is “Anyone Can Cook.” Remy is a rat, and he has talent greater even than Colette’s. (His improvisation of the Sweet Bread a la Gusteau recipe became known as the “special order”; quite superior to the original, which was what Colette meant to serve; she was only following the rules.) Linguini, who cannot cook at all, is given a high position in the kitchen because people believe he can do it excellently. I understand that the audience loves the underdog. But doesn’t that make Colette, the only woman in the kitchen, sort of an underdog, too? I couldn’t accept that she’s been “working too hard for too long,” and suddenly it doesn’t matter because she fell in love. Who would have known that it would be a man that would soften her up?
And that’s another thing: Although I don’t have a real problem about women dreaming of someday having a stable family life with a man at their side to support them, I would agree that it is a masculinist notion that it is ideal that women would want exactly that. Walt Disney Pictures has been known to demonstrate through their films virtues that humanity holds dear—in the case of Ratatouille, perseverance against the odds. That being given, it could be deduced that even Colette’s behavior in the film was placed there that way on purpose. (Yeah, to make us go, “AWW…!” because she has a soft spot for Linguini—of all people.) That really seems disturbingly masculinist to me.
This brings my attention to the only female main character of the Pixar film Ratatouille, Colette Tatou. A chef in the kitchen of the gourmet restaurant Gusteau’s, Mademoiselle Colette is introduced as the mentor and partner of Alfredo Linguini, after he is mistakenly recognized as the creator of a fabulous new soup, which was really created by Remy the rat. “I am the only woman in this kitchen!” she says to Linguini on his first day of work. “I have been working too hard for too long to get here, and I am not going to jeopardize it for some garbage boy who got lucky!” (It is no surprise why she is an uptight nagger throughout the film. Tired women do that.)
It is clear that Colette has a strong personality. She can make Linguini shudder and recoil just by her mere presence. She initially sees Linguini as competition; it is her greatest misfortune to even be involved with him. “Haute cuisine is an antiquated hierarchy built upon rules written by stupid old men—rules designed to make it impossible for women to enter this world. But I’m still here,” she explains to him. To her, it shouldn’t matter that she is a woman; she can cook—and well, at that—and she is set to move beyond what the masculinist society dictates upon members of her gender.
Come to think of it, her motives are similar to Remy’s, who also wants to become more than what he really is. So now it bothers me that by the middle of the story, Linguini, under Remy’s control, has become the talk of the town just days after “his” soup’s popularity grew, and Colette lets it happen, putting her in the same position as she had been before. It bothers me even more that shortly after Gusteau’s reclaims its fame, she is shown to have given in to Linguini’s affections. It is implied that all she’s been looking for all along was love. She lowers her shield and lets an arrow pierce her, and that was it. All of a sudden, she is contented with being second place just when she’s halfway to her goal.
I understand that the theme of Ratatouille is “Anyone Can Cook.” Remy is a rat, and he has talent greater even than Colette’s. (His improvisation of the Sweet Bread a la Gusteau recipe became known as the “special order”; quite superior to the original, which was what Colette meant to serve; she was only following the rules.) Linguini, who cannot cook at all, is given a high position in the kitchen because people believe he can do it excellently. I understand that the audience loves the underdog. But doesn’t that make Colette, the only woman in the kitchen, sort of an underdog, too? I couldn’t accept that she’s been “working too hard for too long,” and suddenly it doesn’t matter because she fell in love. Who would have known that it would be a man that would soften her up?
And that’s another thing: Although I don’t have a real problem about women dreaming of someday having a stable family life with a man at their side to support them, I would agree that it is a masculinist notion that it is ideal that women would want exactly that. Walt Disney Pictures has been known to demonstrate through their films virtues that humanity holds dear—in the case of Ratatouille, perseverance against the odds. That being given, it could be deduced that even Colette’s behavior in the film was placed there that way on purpose. (Yeah, to make us go, “AWW…!” because she has a soft spot for Linguini—of all people.) That really seems disturbingly masculinist to me.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Björk vs. Lady Gaga
When I first heard Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face,” I thought it was an outrageous and ridiculous excuse for a song. I still do, and from then on, I refuse to ever like Lady Gaga or her songs.
Meanwhile, I hadn’t become a Björk fan until very recently, when I found myself quite fascinated with the eccentric imagery in her music videos and also the honest sensuality in her lyrics. I didn’t like her before because what she’s doing doesn’t sound like proper singing. The first videos of her that I’ve seen were “Big Time Sensuality,” “Pagan Poetry,” “Cocoon,” “Hunter” and another video that features what looked like two sea mollusks mating to form a human embryo in the end. What made me like her was when I was driven by curiosity and watched almost her music videos on YouTube and was just struck.
Björk’s eccentricity is somewhat comparable to Lady Gaga’s. Like Björk, Lady Gaga stands out with her rather outlandish style of hair, makeup and clothes. Also like Björk, Lady Gaga frequently wears her costumes in public as a fashion statement.
But the contrasts about them are more obvious. Lady Gaga seems to be just a little more upfront about her eccentricity; Björk doesn’t always come out wearing a ridiculous costume. Although both singers are honest about their sexuality, their manner of expressing it in their music videos is slightly different.
Lady Gaga is sexy, and she shows it unabashedly. She displays her body and moves like a snake, not unlike Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera at the height of their career.
Björk, on the other hand, have been known to appear nude in a music video but is not trying to be sexy. In the music video of “Cocoon,” she is shown totally nude with red threads coming out of her nipples; in relation to the song, which is about sex and love, her bare body shows the persona welcoming the sensuality, and the red threads symbolizes the emotion bursting out of her and then engulfing her.
Meanwhile, “Pagan Poetry” shows heavily distorted images of—according to Wikipedia—sexual intercourse, fellatio and pearls being sewn into skin (perhaps a euphemism for semen and penetration?), and Björk wearing a dress covering only her lower half. She has pearls on her skin. Her breasts are bare. “Pagan Poetry” bears the same themes as “Cocoon,” and the persona is preparing herself for marriage and sex. I'm guessing the symbolism is similar. The nudity is a statement—a sexually explicit one, but not with the purpose of sexually exciting an audience.
Both Björk and Lady Gaga appeal to the lowest instincts of humanity. Their sexual honesty opens the audience's minds to the intimate points in their being that society tries to conceal in an effort to make us less like the "lower" species of this planet. They just showed people that they don't have to deny their animal instincts to be human.
However, I would like to stress that Lady Gaga's sexual appeal seems to be a little too distracting to get her message across—Björk's nudism, although also distracting, is more mind-provoking due to the fact that you don't see her going all over a group of sexy men. Her sexuality is not overblown that she would resemble a showgirl. Perhaps that's also what Lady Gaga is trying to put off: making people see the substance beneath the seeming lack of it.
Meanwhile, I hadn’t become a Björk fan until very recently, when I found myself quite fascinated with the eccentric imagery in her music videos and also the honest sensuality in her lyrics. I didn’t like her before because what she’s doing doesn’t sound like proper singing. The first videos of her that I’ve seen were “Big Time Sensuality,” “Pagan Poetry,” “Cocoon,” “Hunter” and another video that features what looked like two sea mollusks mating to form a human embryo in the end. What made me like her was when I was driven by curiosity and watched almost her music videos on YouTube and was just struck.
Björk’s eccentricity is somewhat comparable to Lady Gaga’s. Like Björk, Lady Gaga stands out with her rather outlandish style of hair, makeup and clothes. Also like Björk, Lady Gaga frequently wears her costumes in public as a fashion statement.
But the contrasts about them are more obvious. Lady Gaga seems to be just a little more upfront about her eccentricity; Björk doesn’t always come out wearing a ridiculous costume. Although both singers are honest about their sexuality, their manner of expressing it in their music videos is slightly different.
Lady Gaga is sexy, and she shows it unabashedly. She displays her body and moves like a snake, not unlike Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera at the height of their career.
Björk, on the other hand, have been known to appear nude in a music video but is not trying to be sexy. In the music video of “Cocoon,” she is shown totally nude with red threads coming out of her nipples; in relation to the song, which is about sex and love, her bare body shows the persona welcoming the sensuality, and the red threads symbolizes the emotion bursting out of her and then engulfing her.
Meanwhile, “Pagan Poetry” shows heavily distorted images of—according to Wikipedia—sexual intercourse, fellatio and pearls being sewn into skin (perhaps a euphemism for semen and penetration?), and Björk wearing a dress covering only her lower half. She has pearls on her skin. Her breasts are bare. “Pagan Poetry” bears the same themes as “Cocoon,” and the persona is preparing herself for marriage and sex. I'm guessing the symbolism is similar. The nudity is a statement—a sexually explicit one, but not with the purpose of sexually exciting an audience.
Both Björk and Lady Gaga appeal to the lowest instincts of humanity. Their sexual honesty opens the audience's minds to the intimate points in their being that society tries to conceal in an effort to make us less like the "lower" species of this planet. They just showed people that they don't have to deny their animal instincts to be human.
However, I would like to stress that Lady Gaga's sexual appeal seems to be a little too distracting to get her message across—Björk's nudism, although also distracting, is more mind-provoking due to the fact that you don't see her going all over a group of sexy men. Her sexuality is not overblown that she would resemble a showgirl. Perhaps that's also what Lady Gaga is trying to put off: making people see the substance beneath the seeming lack of it.
A Lamentation
I love my country. I love it for what I have seen that is good about it. No matter how willing I am to leave it, I know deep in my heart that it would be just as willing to go back when I would have left it. It is my home, after all. When I do leave the Philippines, I want to show other peoples that I, who was born and raised in a country wrought with political and economic instability, could still be somebody who can bring something to the world.
I'm a little sad that I might sound hypocritical right now for saying that after all the stuff that I’ve said about my own country in previous blog entries. But to be honest, although I'm quite disillusioned to the point that I would be quite ashamed to be from a country run with sheer mediocrity, I am satisfied that beyond the ugliness of it all, I have been lucky enough to see parts of it that is still worth fighting for.
When I write my novel, I think about the Philippines that I have learned to love and treasure—the smiling faces of my people, the idealism of my peers and of those in the military (including members of my family) … the land that somehow still boasts of friendly, hospitable, prayerful and industrious people—that I feel is still there somewhere—or at least, I hope so.
I shudder to think that from the nation that our foreign neighbors once looked up to for holding a “peaceful, bloodless revolution,” we have become the subject of ridicule. I have immersed myself in the company of visitors of different nations, and I have heard them complain that they, too, have been disillusioned about what the Philippines could offer. Instead of respect and tolerance, they have been met with racial stereotyping and apathy brought on by ignorance. Sometimes, I tell myself that perhaps they had been expecting too much from a country they don’t even know; different nations have different values. But that would be unfair of me to think, because the Philippines is advertised to be … as I have said above. The Filipino word for “foreigner” is dayuhan, from the root word dayo, literally “visit”; dayuhan means “visitor” or “guest,” and they must be treated as such. It breaks my heart, knowing that the values that this nation hold dear are being twisted or ignored.
This brings me to Encyclopedia Dramatica, which is a website parodying Wikipedia. Although ED typically defames nearly everything under the sun with explicit language and sometimes untrue statements for the sake of humor, it is often believable and accurate to reality. I recently bumped into one article about the Philippines. Nearly everything in it is true, about as true as nearly everything is in the article about Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight. I am not proud and arrogant enough to find it completely offensive (it’s not offensive if it’s true; at least, to me). It just scares me, to be an individual from a country falling behind her neighbors. It frightens me to imagine about what other peoples really think about us.
I try my best to be a good representative of my country. Already, I look forward to publishing my novel and showing other people the Philippines as I know it. I just fear that by now, it seems that people of other nations wouldn’t take me seriously anymore because I am Filipino, unless they really know who I am.
I know my identity. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But if that identity meant being associated with hypocritical behavior and mediocre standards, I guess I'm gonna have to work hard to be the best I can be, despite my dystopic origins.
I'm a little sad that I might sound hypocritical right now for saying that after all the stuff that I’ve said about my own country in previous blog entries. But to be honest, although I'm quite disillusioned to the point that I would be quite ashamed to be from a country run with sheer mediocrity, I am satisfied that beyond the ugliness of it all, I have been lucky enough to see parts of it that is still worth fighting for.
When I write my novel, I think about the Philippines that I have learned to love and treasure—the smiling faces of my people, the idealism of my peers and of those in the military (including members of my family) … the land that somehow still boasts of friendly, hospitable, prayerful and industrious people—that I feel is still there somewhere—or at least, I hope so.
I shudder to think that from the nation that our foreign neighbors once looked up to for holding a “peaceful, bloodless revolution,” we have become the subject of ridicule. I have immersed myself in the company of visitors of different nations, and I have heard them complain that they, too, have been disillusioned about what the Philippines could offer. Instead of respect and tolerance, they have been met with racial stereotyping and apathy brought on by ignorance. Sometimes, I tell myself that perhaps they had been expecting too much from a country they don’t even know; different nations have different values. But that would be unfair of me to think, because the Philippines is advertised to be … as I have said above. The Filipino word for “foreigner” is dayuhan, from the root word dayo, literally “visit”; dayuhan means “visitor” or “guest,” and they must be treated as such. It breaks my heart, knowing that the values that this nation hold dear are being twisted or ignored.
This brings me to Encyclopedia Dramatica, which is a website parodying Wikipedia. Although ED typically defames nearly everything under the sun with explicit language and sometimes untrue statements for the sake of humor, it is often believable and accurate to reality. I recently bumped into one article about the Philippines. Nearly everything in it is true, about as true as nearly everything is in the article about Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight. I am not proud and arrogant enough to find it completely offensive (it’s not offensive if it’s true; at least, to me). It just scares me, to be an individual from a country falling behind her neighbors. It frightens me to imagine about what other peoples really think about us.
I try my best to be a good representative of my country. Already, I look forward to publishing my novel and showing other people the Philippines as I know it. I just fear that by now, it seems that people of other nations wouldn’t take me seriously anymore because I am Filipino, unless they really know who I am.
I know my identity. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But if that identity meant being associated with hypocritical behavior and mediocre standards, I guess I'm gonna have to work hard to be the best I can be, despite my dystopic origins.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
About Cory Aquino
I was born in 1988, two years after the historical People Power Revolution that ended the reign of Dictator Ferdinand Marcos after 20 years. By the time that I was old enough to care about what was going on in the world, Fidel V. Ramos was president. That is to say that I never truly appreciated Corazon C. Aquino as the first woman president of the Philippines except from what I would learn later on in school.
I only know that it was on her time of office that democracy was brought back to the Philippines. As I was taught in school, democracy had to be the best form of government because the common man has a part in the way things are run in the country. Thus, people seem to claim that President Aquino was a sort of a hero for standing up for the rights of her people to freedom of speech and press … and all the benefits of a democratic rule.
Considering the condition of the Philippines now, after almost 25 years of democracy, I was gravely disillusioned—more so when a college professor of mine once ranted how President Aquino was not even the best ruler she could possibly be. He told us about how she was not even properly qualified to become president because she was a housewife who was educated in France—with a degree for French cuisine. I also heard that she appointed into office not those who would be good in the job but her friends—including her stylist, manicurist, et cetera.
All those combined, I am sorry to say that I feel rather indifferent about the death of the Lady in Yellow. I admit that I feel quite guilty that, even in her death, I still blame her for the gradual decline of this country. As I have seen in the memorial service dedicated to her, she was a nice person who was possibly just defamed by opposition during her time in office. But I am sad to say that the damage was done; what I’ve heard cannot be unheard. I know I’m supposed to feel sad about her passing, but I just don’t feel anything. I’m not even grateful toward her for bringing democracy back into this country. I feel bad, not because she is gone, but because I don’t feel bad about her being gone. It’s frustrating.
I could only say that I do hope that the former president Ma. Corazon Cojuangco-Aquino would rest in peace, along with her husband Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino in the afterlife. With that, I also hope that the legacy they supposedly left for the Philippines did not die with them.
I only know that it was on her time of office that democracy was brought back to the Philippines. As I was taught in school, democracy had to be the best form of government because the common man has a part in the way things are run in the country. Thus, people seem to claim that President Aquino was a sort of a hero for standing up for the rights of her people to freedom of speech and press … and all the benefits of a democratic rule.
Considering the condition of the Philippines now, after almost 25 years of democracy, I was gravely disillusioned—more so when a college professor of mine once ranted how President Aquino was not even the best ruler she could possibly be. He told us about how she was not even properly qualified to become president because she was a housewife who was educated in France—with a degree for French cuisine. I also heard that she appointed into office not those who would be good in the job but her friends—including her stylist, manicurist, et cetera.
All those combined, I am sorry to say that I feel rather indifferent about the death of the Lady in Yellow. I admit that I feel quite guilty that, even in her death, I still blame her for the gradual decline of this country. As I have seen in the memorial service dedicated to her, she was a nice person who was possibly just defamed by opposition during her time in office. But I am sad to say that the damage was done; what I’ve heard cannot be unheard. I know I’m supposed to feel sad about her passing, but I just don’t feel anything. I’m not even grateful toward her for bringing democracy back into this country. I feel bad, not because she is gone, but because I don’t feel bad about her being gone. It’s frustrating.
I could only say that I do hope that the former president Ma. Corazon Cojuangco-Aquino would rest in peace, along with her husband Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino in the afterlife. With that, I also hope that the legacy they supposedly left for the Philippines did not die with them.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Something to Be Proud of
I'm not usually this passionate about my origins, but let me show you a glimpse of my ancestors' hometown.
http://proud-to-be-pinoy.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html
http://proud-to-be-pinoy.blogspot.com/2007_01_01_archive.html
Friday, July 10, 2009
Rock ≠ Conformity?
Freaky Friday is not particularly one of my favorite Disney movies, but when I watched it again last night on DVD, I couldn’t help admiring it for “treating rock music with respect.” Like School of Rock, it frequently references “classic” examples of rock, while the music that Anna Coleman’s band plays is reminiscent of punk in its root form.
I am the kind of music lover who listens to whatever is on the radio. Having been born in 1988, my musical experience began in the early 90’s, when I enjoyed Michael Learns to Rock and some Bon Jovi and Aerosmith, and Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston, boy bands such as the Backstreet Boys, ‘N Sync, 5ive and Boyzone, and female singer-songwriters like Alanis Morissette, Natalie Imbruglia and Chantal Kreviazuk.
Let’s not forget the Disney movies—I am a huge Disney girl. As a child, I watched the fairy tales, Robin Hood, Alice in Wonderland, The Nightmare Before Christmas (if you count that as Disney), The Lion King, Pocahontas, Mulan, Hercules and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. (Tarzan was good, but I look at it as the weak link in the chain of Disney classics, because it was in the milieu that spawned non-musical animated features, cheesy Disney Channel Original Movies and poor and unnecessary sequels.)
Given this background, I am positively embarrassed to say that although I am a fan of rock music, I haven’t listened to the bands that “decent” rock fans uphold as the true rockers. Although I respect that the Stone Temple Pilots, The Ramones, Black Sabbath, Radiohead, Kiss, Queen, AC/DC or Marilyn Manson are among those that are hailed as the epitome of rock, I haven’t listened to them. Nirvana, Aerosmith and Bon Jovi are among the few bands that I have listened to. Growing up, the closest I have been to rock was through alternative bands like Garbage, Oasis and No Doubt, which is sometimes considered to be pop.
I am also ashamed to call myself a rock fan when I was among the millions of pubescent girls who screamed over boy bands during what I call the bubblegum boom in the late 90’s. But when Linkin Park came out in 2001, which was the decline of boy bands, I tried my ears with “nu rock,” which is the classification of bands like Incubus, POD and Staind. I loved these bands, and their angsty content inspired me to become a writer; Linkin Park is my favorite, because they managed to express anger without being dependent on swearwords.
To my surprise, nu rock is deplorable and inferior in the opinion of fans of the “classic” bands listed above. But at the time, I was not aware of such a hierarchy.
In the years that followed, pop rock became popular. Michelle Branch and Vanessa Carlton started the trend in rebellion against bubblegum pop, but Ashlee Simpson, Avril Lavigne and Kelly Clarkson were the genre’s most celebrated by 2005.
Also around the time that Avril Lavigne came out, pop punk took the place of nu rock. Good Charlotte, Green Day and Simple Plan became fan favorites.
Evanescence came out of nowhere and became an instant success in 2003. It seemed to be one of a kind; ignorant music listeners called it gothic rock. But real Goths didn’t think so, so I respect their opinion and have since refused to call Evanescence gothic. Amy Lee wasn’t even a real Goth, after all; she just likes wearing dark clothes and black makeup.
As I have been in my childhood, I liked whatever was on the radio, so I listened to these bands and singers despite complaints from traditionalists, who called these musicians posers. I ignored those complaints: Avril Lavigne and her contemporaries are pop singers anyway; I looked at Good Charlotte, Blink-182, Green Day and Simple Plan’s music to be a new version of punk rather than a different kind of music labeled as punk, which is what traditionalists claim. Evanescence is only labeled by the media as goth, but they really aren’t.
I entered college, just as emo music became all the rage. Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! At the Disco, Dashboard Confessional and the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, among others came into the spotlight. At first, I thought this was a new wave of pop punk bands, but I discovered through some research that this is a different genre altogether. An offshoot of punk, emo is characterized by depressing lyrics, a combination of red and black clothes (not to be confused with the White Stripes, who wear red and white clothes), eyeliner (even on men), black- or red-framed eyeglasses (this fell out of trend within a year of its popularity) and sleek, overgrown bangs that cover one or both eyes. In the Internet, some people include some nu rock bands like Linkin Park and Staind in the label “emo,” as their lyrics are commonly angry, depressing, and repeatedly so.
I am not a fan of emo music (i.e. MCR, FOB, etc.), but I admit to listening to some of their songs. However, I am not one to actually buy their albums.
As you have probably figured out by now, I am pretty much a conformist. I got good grades in school, and never skipped classes on purpose. My academic performance is not my best, but only because I am lazy. I go to church and sing there, prompting me to be punctual and committed to attending Mass services. I am not what you would call a Jesus freak but I have significant knowledge of the Bible, Salvation History, and some Church doctrines; I get uncomfortable when I don’t get to go to Mass on my birthday or on Ash Wednesday. When it comes to religion, I am a devout Catholic, although I do not believe that Mary stayed a virgin after having Jesus, who I also believe married Mary Magdalene. Whoever this particular Magdalene was, she was most probably Mary of Magdala, not to be confused with the one who washed Jesus’s feet (that was Mary of Bethany); whether or not this Magdalene was the adulterer, I don’t quite know.
My conformity is the same with my taste in music, which makes me worry a bit. I listen to bands that are labeled inferior posers, and yet I admire “classic” rock bands without listening to them—am I hypocritical or just open-minded? I just don’t want traditionalists to shoot at me.
I am the kind of music lover who listens to whatever is on the radio. Having been born in 1988, my musical experience began in the early 90’s, when I enjoyed Michael Learns to Rock and some Bon Jovi and Aerosmith, and Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston, boy bands such as the Backstreet Boys, ‘N Sync, 5ive and Boyzone, and female singer-songwriters like Alanis Morissette, Natalie Imbruglia and Chantal Kreviazuk.
Let’s not forget the Disney movies—I am a huge Disney girl. As a child, I watched the fairy tales, Robin Hood, Alice in Wonderland, The Nightmare Before Christmas (if you count that as Disney), The Lion King, Pocahontas, Mulan, Hercules and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. (Tarzan was good, but I look at it as the weak link in the chain of Disney classics, because it was in the milieu that spawned non-musical animated features, cheesy Disney Channel Original Movies and poor and unnecessary sequels.)
Given this background, I am positively embarrassed to say that although I am a fan of rock music, I haven’t listened to the bands that “decent” rock fans uphold as the true rockers. Although I respect that the Stone Temple Pilots, The Ramones, Black Sabbath, Radiohead, Kiss, Queen, AC/DC or Marilyn Manson are among those that are hailed as the epitome of rock, I haven’t listened to them. Nirvana, Aerosmith and Bon Jovi are among the few bands that I have listened to. Growing up, the closest I have been to rock was through alternative bands like Garbage, Oasis and No Doubt, which is sometimes considered to be pop.
I am also ashamed to call myself a rock fan when I was among the millions of pubescent girls who screamed over boy bands during what I call the bubblegum boom in the late 90’s. But when Linkin Park came out in 2001, which was the decline of boy bands, I tried my ears with “nu rock,” which is the classification of bands like Incubus, POD and Staind. I loved these bands, and their angsty content inspired me to become a writer; Linkin Park is my favorite, because they managed to express anger without being dependent on swearwords.
To my surprise, nu rock is deplorable and inferior in the opinion of fans of the “classic” bands listed above. But at the time, I was not aware of such a hierarchy.
In the years that followed, pop rock became popular. Michelle Branch and Vanessa Carlton started the trend in rebellion against bubblegum pop, but Ashlee Simpson, Avril Lavigne and Kelly Clarkson were the genre’s most celebrated by 2005.
Also around the time that Avril Lavigne came out, pop punk took the place of nu rock. Good Charlotte, Green Day and Simple Plan became fan favorites.
Evanescence came out of nowhere and became an instant success in 2003. It seemed to be one of a kind; ignorant music listeners called it gothic rock. But real Goths didn’t think so, so I respect their opinion and have since refused to call Evanescence gothic. Amy Lee wasn’t even a real Goth, after all; she just likes wearing dark clothes and black makeup.
As I have been in my childhood, I liked whatever was on the radio, so I listened to these bands and singers despite complaints from traditionalists, who called these musicians posers. I ignored those complaints: Avril Lavigne and her contemporaries are pop singers anyway; I looked at Good Charlotte, Blink-182, Green Day and Simple Plan’s music to be a new version of punk rather than a different kind of music labeled as punk, which is what traditionalists claim. Evanescence is only labeled by the media as goth, but they really aren’t.
I entered college, just as emo music became all the rage. Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! At the Disco, Dashboard Confessional and the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, among others came into the spotlight. At first, I thought this was a new wave of pop punk bands, but I discovered through some research that this is a different genre altogether. An offshoot of punk, emo is characterized by depressing lyrics, a combination of red and black clothes (not to be confused with the White Stripes, who wear red and white clothes), eyeliner (even on men), black- or red-framed eyeglasses (this fell out of trend within a year of its popularity) and sleek, overgrown bangs that cover one or both eyes. In the Internet, some people include some nu rock bands like Linkin Park and Staind in the label “emo,” as their lyrics are commonly angry, depressing, and repeatedly so.
I am not a fan of emo music (i.e. MCR, FOB, etc.), but I admit to listening to some of their songs. However, I am not one to actually buy their albums.
As you have probably figured out by now, I am pretty much a conformist. I got good grades in school, and never skipped classes on purpose. My academic performance is not my best, but only because I am lazy. I go to church and sing there, prompting me to be punctual and committed to attending Mass services. I am not what you would call a Jesus freak but I have significant knowledge of the Bible, Salvation History, and some Church doctrines; I get uncomfortable when I don’t get to go to Mass on my birthday or on Ash Wednesday. When it comes to religion, I am a devout Catholic, although I do not believe that Mary stayed a virgin after having Jesus, who I also believe married Mary Magdalene. Whoever this particular Magdalene was, she was most probably Mary of Magdala, not to be confused with the one who washed Jesus’s feet (that was Mary of Bethany); whether or not this Magdalene was the adulterer, I don’t quite know.
My conformity is the same with my taste in music, which makes me worry a bit. I listen to bands that are labeled inferior posers, and yet I admire “classic” rock bands without listening to them—am I hypocritical or just open-minded? I just don’t want traditionalists to shoot at me.
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