Ten things: currently, April 2013

1. I’m pretty obsessed with JT’s latest single, “Mirrors.” It’s an epic, eight minute-long love song with a very catchy, Timbaland-esque sound to it – it’s been on repeat for the past couple of weeks on my iTunes rotation. The universe is totally laughing at me, right now, considering my last post was pretty negatively directed at Justin (read: exclusively/all/entirely hating him). Oh, well.

2. I’ve started following Shaun T’s 60-day “Insanity” workout. I’ve only gotten past the first two weeks so far, and I feel as though my relationship with all of this can be likened to, uh, a pretty abusive one. Basically, I look forward to seeing him fairly often, and when I do, he beats the shit out of me. Then, the very next day, I go back for more. (In all seriousness, though, and true to its name, it’s a pretty intense, crazy workout – but I feel great! It hurts, but I feel great).

3. My current indulgent drink is almond milk. It’s creamy, nutty (obvi), and so delicious. The only problem with it is that I’ve learned that the most accessible, mass-produced kinds that they sell in cartons at Trader Joe’s or Whole Foods or wherever contains a ton of preservatives that skews the flavor and real quality (you especially be on the lookout for an ingredient called carrageenan). But, the legit, fresh kind of almond milk is insanely pricey (around $8-10 for a 16oz bottle), and not easily found in retail stores because it’s so perishable (and expensive to make). Either that, or you can make it yourself at home, except it requires a Vitamix or some other really insanely expensive, high-power blender that I also can’t afford at the moment. So I make do with having it as an occasional treat. And, a yummy treat it is. Pressed Juicery (locations in LA and SF for those of you living in California) makes a pretty delicious vanilla or chocolate version (made with real vanilla or cacao beans and sweetened with dates). Mmmm.

4. Macklemore and Ryan Lewis are blowing up on the radio these days. At least all Bay Area radio stations. (For those of you who don’t know who I’m referring to, see: Thrift Shop). I still can’t decide if I hate their single because it’s obnoxious and annoying, or if it’s so insanely catchy and brilliant that I love it. At the very least, it’s definitely unique and fresh for mainstream Top 40, and I think that part of the reason it is is because they need to have a more daring and edgy entrance into the mainstream music scene because a. they’re a rap duo and b. they’re white.

I don’t know why I led with that whole spiel because the whole point of bringing them up was to recommend their song, “Same Love.” It’s a song about gay marriage and equality and, probably not ideal for a debut single, but amazing on all other counts: profound lyrics that send a great message backed up by a great melody.

5. Speaking of blowing up on the radio, I also can’t decide if I hate all Bruno Mars’ songs because they are so insanely overplayed, or if I just legitimately do not care for his music. I’m leaning toward a combination of both but more heavily toward the latter. Something about his style is too one-note and formulaic for me, and while he is talented and has a set of vocal chords, I just cannot stand that whine-y type of crooning at such a freaking constant. It really doesn’t help that all five radio stations that I have on rotation in my car will, more often than not, ALL be playing some BM song when I surf them. Gawd.

6. Instagram is probably my favorite social media outlet these days.

7. The Backstreet Boys recently celebrated their 20-year anniversary of officially being a group. They even got their own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. As a fangirl since I was in middle school, this makes me feel incredibly old. And proud. And still holding out hopes to marry one of them (technically not even legally possible at this point, unless Nick backs out of his engagement. What do you say, Carter?)

8. My two new favorite shows are Mindy Kaling’s “The Mindy Project,” on Fox, and Lena Dunham’s “Girls,” on HBO. I feel as though a quick blurb here on this list would not nearly do them the justice they deserve, so I won’t go into it too much at this moment. But, I will say that they are both hilarious, brilliant, and fresh. The two shows are actually nothing alike, but both these ladies are very dedicated to redefining the image of the female in their 20s-30s, and I have nothing but insane respect for that. That’s not to say they’re girly shows, however – guys and gals alike can enjoy them, I think.

9. My new goal is to visit at least 3-4 new countries or 1-2 new continents  before 2015. Once I get finances straightened out, I really would like to make this happen. On my short list are Thailand, Alaska (ok, not a country, I know. School is important), Peru, Taiwan, and somewhere in Europe. I’ve come to the realization that growing up and living in San Francisco has instilled this feeling of false worldliness in me. Because it’s such an insanely diverse city, I tend to forget that it’s still only just one city, and that I haven’t been to as many other places around the world as I’d like to. This is crucially important to growth and in life for me, so, I just need to put it down in words somewhere that I have this goal.

10. Chicago is also on my short list if we’re talking domestic (yes, I know I put Alaska up there, and no, I’m not going to remove it). It’s the last of the major metropolitan cities in the US that I’ve yet to experience.

Ten things: why Justin Timberlake kinda sucks.

I’ve kept this personal opinion to myself for a while, but I finally feel like it’s time to reveal publicly that . . . I cannot stand Justin Timberlake. I know that he’s beloved and adored by many, and likely a lot of people who end up reading this, but I’m definitely not a fan. In general I just find him overrated, overhyped, over-loved, pompous, and think that there’s a very artificial quality about the way he is that bugs me. Anyway, here’s my list of reasons expounding on that. Some points I think are fairly legitimate, some are definitely petty, and some are silly (but at one point, that I probably considered also legitimate).

1. His ridiculously self-aggrandizing announcement that he was finally ready to return to music was self-indulgent, obnoxious, totally unnecessary, and I doubt it gauged any new interest from those who weren’t already in his fanbase.

2. He gets so much insane praise for his songs – WHY? Yes, his music is cool, and it’s totally decent and catchy and I don’t question that he is without talent but, his debut single for one, after seven years, “Suit & Tie” is kinda crappy. It’s definitely not comeback music worthy, to me at least. But nobody is going to bash him for it because it features Jay-Z. And, well, obviously nobody is going to mess with Jay-Z. Well played, JT.

3. He had Ellen Degeneres and Beyonce introduce his performance at the Grammys this year. Are you serious? Possibly the two most powerful women in mainstream pop culture – one beloved, selfless, hilarious, the other just with ridiculously fierce stage presence with thunder thighs and a catwalk for days on end. And they commanded a standing ovation for him. Has Justin Timberlake really contributed that much to music and society? Not gonna lie, I’d applaud whoever Ellen told me to, it’s just . . . Justin Timberlake? Doesn’t really go in the same sentence as “standing ovation” to me. Somewhere in the audience, Prince and Madonna were not pleased.

4. For some reason, I suspect that he evades blame and responsibility on purpose at times. He comes off as immaculately polished, imperfectly perfect, and appears to be without a speck of drama on his rap sheet, despite having been in the business for years. I firmly believe in taking ownership of your faults and it’s just an unfortunate and incidental side effect that if you work in the media — the public eye, that others are going to catch wind of it. Some will support you, others will bash on you, but there’s generally a reaction – is that what you’re so afraid of, JT? Because how is it almost all radio silence when it comes to news about JT faltering or struggling. Why is that? I mean, come on, he’s been around for a good number of years (decades, even). He (rather seriously) dated Britney Spears for years and look how the media trampled all over her (love you, boo) while he seemed to just slither off, faultless.

5. Okay, since we’re on the topic of Britney, and even aside from the fact that I am clearly a huge advocate of anything she stands for, what the hell with writing a song about her (“Cry Me A River”)? Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say that during their relationship, she did cheat on him, and that is horrible, and they broke up thereafter and he’s crushed and hurt and devastated (seriously, benefit of the doubt, right?) But why is it that airing out your dirty laundry and casting essentially a blond stunt double so obviously meant to be B-Spears in a scathing, spiteful song and music video only seemed to have garnered him more critical praise and more hordes of fangirls? This is essentially trash-talking your ex in the most humiliating, public way ever. It’s not okay for Taylor Swift to write songs merely inspired by her ex-boyfriends and past relationships without being the brunt of a million jokes. But, if Justin does it, to the Queen of Pop no less, it’s cool? It’s. Not. Cool. IT’S NOT COOL. (Britney, I love you)

6. I have this theory that his role as Sean Parker in The Social Network (all-consumingly arrogant, paranoid, fake, and with a somewhat keen/smarmy business eye) is essentially how he is in real life. More proof of this is that this was the only role that he acted in that I found fairly decent, and I think otherwise he’s a pretty shitty actor. Ergo, it was because he wasn’t acting here, but playing himself. Right . . . right? Okay, maybe just me.

7. I generally hold a distaste for any privileged white boys who had cushy upbringings to a. act like they’re Black b. think they are as cool as Black people c. attempt to urbanize their style and tastes to align with those of the Black community. Please, just don’t. You were in the Mickey Mouse Club, okay?

8.  He cried like a bitch and ran to his mommy when Ashton Kutcher Punk’d him in the debut episode. Later on, JT also reported that he was high at the time. And that, ladies and gents, is the real Justin Timberlake.

9. This is an extension of an earlier point, but to continue on #4: it makes me very uncomfortable that he doesn’t seem to possess that “human” quality to him. Back when I blogged about my distaste for Lady Gaga, one of my main complaints was that she had stopped being accessible for me. That led to me just not caring about her product because I was not able to resonate, at all, with the artist putting it out. I feel the exact same way about JT and his (what appears to me as) fake humility. It makes me wonder what he has to hide, what kind of person he’s really like underneath his (again, what appears to me as a) facade, a representation that he’s carefully concocted and taken on solely for the public. Never mind the fact that he’s had no arrests, never shed a tear in public, or even have any melodramatic monologue segments we can cut from any Behind The Music-esque specials, but, again, why does he seem to repel any apparent struggles or faults off him like water? Let’s not even get back into the whole Britney thing. What about the Janet Jackson Superbowl debacle, where her career essentially took a huge nosedive while he seemed to walk away unscathed?

(Seriously, though, what about Britney?)

10. I’m pretty much done with this list, but for the sake of capping off on a lighter note and, as I mentioned above, a petty one, let me just put it out there that for the record, I was a huge, avid Backstreet Boys fangirl during the 90s and well into the early 2000s. I was seriously in love with them for the bulk of my high school years and to this day, I can shamelessly confess that I’m a committed fan. So, with that said, lol, NSYNC, BYE.

Just kidding, though. I respect NSYNC – enjoyed their music a lot, and thought they were a great group, also.

Oh. But, I’m not kidding about not liking Justin Timberlake. At all. See above.

in my closet (is this dress)

(Credit for the first image goes to Modcloth, the second one was taken at Intelligentsia in LA, third is from my brother’s graduation back in May.)

I have a serious obsession with dresses and skirts (especially ones with pockets). This is one of my favorites, that I purchased on a whim as soon as I saw it on Modcloth. The only unfortunate thing is that I don’t exactly have weather-appropriate tea parties and spring weddings lined up as often as I’d like in my planner, so it’s not an everyday dress that I’ve been able to put good use to. But I’ve managed to wear it whenever an occasion welcomes fancy floral dresses.

Wait, I lied, there’s actually two unfortunate things about this dress, the other being that I can’t pull it off without a jacket or cardigan, as the picture above will depict. Just because my pale, San Franciscan skin is almost quite literally the same color as the dress, so wearing it without a cover-up doesn’t look quite right. Oh thanks, genes.

Anyway, I just wanted to share an item from my closet that I think is worth posting, even if my life is devoid of Anthropologie-esque photoshoots.

memorable meals: the house, san francisco.

Because something along the lines of “stuffing my face” is mentioned in the hobbies/interest section of my resume, I often get asked what my favorite restaurant is. Instead, I answer with the last great restaurant I ate at. To date, it’s still The House – a really tiny, unassuming, and understated (but super popular) restaurant located in the North Beach district of San Francisco. I last dined there earlier this year in the spring, but first tried a couple years ago. Each time, I prepared myself for a decent meal. Each time, I was still impressed.

The House has always had a low-key but very consistent buzz surrounding it, so I don’t know why I was so surprised that it was as great as it was for me. I think, because their menu is filled with all these frou-frou sounding New American dishes with an Asian flare to it; and on top of that, there were a lot of fish dishes.

Asian fusion and cooked fish are two components of restaurant eating that I generally just haven’t been able to get down with.

My wariness over cooked fish dishes in restaurants I think is easy to explain. There’s Anthony Bourdain’s rule of never ordering fish on certain days because of the freshness factors and me never being able to keep straight what days those are because I’m not in the industry and usually too hungry/eager to eat delicious fish that I don’t care. On top of that, and mostly, it’s that it’s also a delicate protein so it’s really easy to overcook. Overcooked fish is garbage – it turns into this chewy mush that renders the dish almost inedible.

I generally don’t like Asian fusion because the very, very vast genre of Asian food and all its many, many subcategories is my favorite type of cuisine. That and, I think, very generally speaking, it’s that a lot of Asian food packs a punch with the flavors and spices. I also grew up with a lot of it, so on top of the flavor components that are familiar to me is the emotional and nostalgic connection that I have to it. Then, there’s American food, which I also love, as its own separate entity. I think it’s less complex, but comforting and easy to love. With Asian fusion, too often, the attempted mix of these two fall flat. It leaves me either wanting one or the other and questioning why the marriage had to happen.

Not at The House. Everything just worked. The fish (and all the other spotlighted proteins) were cooked perfectly – tender and delicious. The flavor and texture combinations of every dish had my taste buds praising halle-freakin’-lujah. I’m not going to attempt to delve into descriptive food writing because I know my capacity, and I just won’t be able to do it justice. I just wanted to chronicle the beauty of all the food of this restaurant.

(From top to bottom: 1. the placemat at the restaurant, 2. steak with wasabi noodles and a kimchi slaw 3. lobster tempura 4. deep fried salmon rolls with hot mustard dipping sauce 5. kurobuta pork chop with pomegranate currant sauce, asparagus, and mash 6. curry sea bass 7. grilled lamb chops with roasted cauliflower 8. miso cod with california roll. Other notes: I think the purple chip is taro, and the yellow is plantain)

Even in a culinary mecca like San Francisco, The House shines. That’s worth blogging about.

on gay couples raising children

Neil: we really, really wanted kids. We really had thought it through. Financially, emotionally, relationship-wise. We didn’t just accidentally get pregnant and decide that now, oh, we need to make this work.

Oprah: yeah. Yeah.

Neil: like, these kids come into our world with nothing but love, and—

Oprah: (interrupts abruptly) I just had a moment. It almost brought me to tears. You know what? I just realized what you were saying. I had an “a-ha” moment.

Neil: nice.

Oprah: Because same sex-couples, in order to have a child – it means you really, really, really gotta do a lot of work to make it happen.

David: oh, yeah.

Oprah: and, so, if you’re a same-sex couple who has a child, it means that child is so loved. And, so wanted.

* * *

This.

and, after all . . . (yet another one of my many odes to the 415)

So uh, I love San Francisco.

This should almost go without saying and might even reach the point of insulting to those who know me at all, for me to hammer in that point any further. My adoration for the city by the bay, much like my emotions and feelings in general, are fairly transparent. I also do guiltily admit to having spent a large chunk of my years devoted to having an aversion to LA. This (sometimes/mostly rather prejudicial view) is unfortunately very popular amongst many San Franciscans. While the same can be said vice versa, it seems to be far less apparent from the Angeleno side. My cousin brought up this point about the lack of reciprocity to me a couple days ago as she was proclaiming a newfound love for the City of Angels. I didn’t agree at first, probably because I always feel the need to defend any comment that sheds any bit of negativity on my beloved SF and its residents, but two things: my cousin is also an SF local, loves the city as dearly as I do, and . . . there’s actually much validity in her comment.

Let it be known that I’m basing that alleged accuracy purely off my own personal interactions with and observations of LA/Southern California folk. While much of the time they very commonly will display an expected allegiance toward their own city, they don’t simultaneously couple that loyalty with an unabashed “fuck your city,” on top of that, like many SF-ers will. Whoops. Anyway, I/we could very well be wrong, but in thinking about it some more these past couple of days, I think a part of the reason for that lack of a more mutual rivalry or distaste is because a. LA is easier to hate, in general – people generally don’t enjoy smog, traffic, or fake-Hollywood types. b. SF is easier to love, in general – a liberal culture, an eco-friendly mantra, beautiful big red bridges, and innovative technology are probably going to be more loved than hated. I just made some sweeping generalizations about how some may perceive the two cities, I know.

But, I’m now going to, begrudgingly, but most assuredly, proclaim a newfound appreciation for LA.

This comes from the fact that the city and county of Los Angeles has been home to many of my closest and dearest friends that I’ve made over the years – good people who I’d trust with my life in their hands. It also comes from the realization that Los Angeles and San Francisco, aside from being the two major metropolitan cities to reside in the (way too big) state of California, actually are not that similar in terms of layout, culture, and personality – at least not similar enough to be fairly compared. Also, this statement comes from my recent trip down south, where I took in the delicious salty breeze and relaxed amongst the beautiful sea blue waves at Hermosa beach, ate a tasty (and quite honestly, incredibly perfect) burger at Father’s Office, had some super flavorful peruvian food at another joint (paired with a yummy cocktail that tasted like a melon shake), also drank some delicious craft beers at some charming local establishments, admired the glittery skyline while almost comfortably situated in some mild LA traffic, and took in something that can only be classified as an unmistakable beauty from the Griffith Observatory that not even LA smog could mask. So, yes, fine, it’s not bad.

It’s not fair to say that I’ll never love LA as much as I love SF, because I’ve lived in San Francisco for well over 20 years of my life – I was born there, and I’ve spent most of my life there. But, I do believe that love is often subjective and with age comes being able to pinpoint and define when exactly we feel and know that we’re enveloped in it. San Francisco has me immersed in it.

I’ve just finished grad school, and it has me thinking that as I make plans and hopes that will pave the way toward the rest of my life, I know many more things – I know I want to travel more, I want to learn more, and I want to move forward and be as open as I possibly can be to other experiences, cultures, people, and ideas.

I also know this – San Francisco, I’m not done with you; and if I ever am, a part of my heart remains for always, and no other person or place can take that away from you.

* * *

(Something I wrote on Yelp as my 100th review, for the city of San Francisco, a couple years back in 2010):

#100. Also exactly how much of my heart this city holds in its hands.

My first steps were taken in your beautiful presence. My first words were uttered into your winds. My family, my friends, and my life are wrapped up protectively in your foggy blankets. My first kiss was guided by your backdrop. My first heartbreak was nurtured by you. You saw me at my best and you got me through my worst.

You breathe life into me in the best way possible.

I was going to spend an entire novel on this review, but we could be here for days. Instead, I’m just going to say that I’m never going to mean 5/5 stars for more than anything, ever, than this.

“Backbeat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out
I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, but you never really had a doubt
I don’t believe that anybody feels the way that I do about you now

And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don’t know how . . .

Because, maybe, you’re gonna be the one that saves me
And, after all, you’re my wonderwall.”

“Wonderwall” – Oasis.

what more hip-hop should aspire to be like

i believe jehovah jireh
i believe there’s heaven
i believe in war
i believe a woman’s temple gives her the right to choose
but baby don’t abort
i believe that marriage isn’t between a man and woman
but between love and love
and i believe you when you say that you’ve lost all faith
but you must believe in something, something, something
you gotta believe in something, something, something

i still believe in man
a wise one asked me why
cause i just don’t believe we’re wicked
i know that we sin but i do believe we try, we all try
the girls try, the boys try
women try, men try
you and i - try, try, we all try

i don’t believe in time travel
i don’t believe our nation’s flag is on the moon
i don’t believe our lives are simple
and i don’t believe they’re short
this is interlude
i don’t believe my hands are clean
can’t believe that you would let me touch your heart
she didn’t believe me when i said that i lost my faith
said you must believe in something, something, something
you gotta believe in something, something, something

i still believe in man
a wise one asked me why
cause i just don’t believe we’re wicked
i know that we sin but i do believe we try, we all try
the girls try, the boys try
women try, men try
you and i - try, try, we all try

“We All Try” – Frank Ocean.

* * *

Time and time again, I will rediscover this kid. And, time and time again, I’ll be totally smitten. Frank Ocean’s product is smart and beautifully thought-provoking. It has a complex dichotomy of being both cynical and optimistic, pulling at you from all emotions in that regard.

Very basically and very simply, though, it’s also just really good music. Highly recommended.

on skittles and arizona iced tea

My thoughts regarding the Trayvon Martin incident run ten-fold. Never mind the fact that the case itself is incredibly tragic, but unwarranted intervening parties and the general public reaction are all chiming in to exacerbate the situation. The emotional aspect of this story has (justifiably been) cranked up on hyperdrive. There’s both race and a death involved. Throw in a whole mess of press, and you have a circus. On one hand, I’m adamantly supportive of the public attention that the case is drawing, because it hopefully can only further or start the process of seeking justice for the late Martin. But, on the other hand, I’m also hesitant about it because I fear that the actual legal process, or process in general, of getting down to the heart of the issue will get lost in the wildfire that has been spreading. Well, what is the issue, exactly?

So, there are two main schools of thought on whether or not the incident was racially motivated. I attend the party that follows the belief of: “uh, YEAH race is a relevant factor, are you kidding me?” Especially given the facts that we already are aware of – Martin being a black teenager, namely. No struggle or fight, determined from the coroner’s report, to be found on his body. And, the fact that he was only armed with a can of Arizona iced tea and a bag of Skittles. If those facts alone don’t support a race-motivated killing (manslaughter, unintentional, self-defense or not), then the subsequent developments since the shooting certainly contribute to such. A soundbyte of the 911 call made by Zimmerman where he arguably sounds very much like he’s muttering “f–ing c***s (derogatory word) and “they always get away with this,” for one.

I find it hard-pressed to believe that they are suggesting anything otherwise (than a hate crime), though I do think that a lot of the stories are put out there laced with erroneous intentions (namely the misleading pictures of Trayvon and Zimmerman placed side by side – one version where Trayvon looks angelic and Zimmerman menacing in an orange jumpsuit, another where Trayvon is more grown and wearing black while Zimmerman is cleaned up and in a suit).

Cases like these are already comfortably wedged between a rock and a hard place, of course. But, what makes this one particularly noteworthy and appalling to me is the fact that Zimmerman hasn’t even been charged with anything yet. Is it not uncontested that he definitely used a gun and shot Martin? Is it not a fact that, despite that God-awful faulty Florida statute that would protect Zimmerman from a murder conviction if his acts would be deemed self-defense, that that has yet to be determined by a judge and jury? While I’m staunchly onboard with the fundamental beliefs that the American criminal justice system is founded on of being innocent until proven guilty, where is even the process that, at the VERY least, the Martin family and Trayvon himself deserves?

Furthermore, if nothing in the Constitution lends to any support that we are required to respond to a questioning police officer, we are for damn sure not obligated, let alone even customarily needed, to respond to an interrogating neighborhood watch man. How is any of this proper or called for, I fail to see.

I can see Zimmerman having obvious support too, though – even if you take the race card out of the situation, in that there are always two sides to a story. But frankly, the lack of even a charge and ergo any substantive progress being made in the direction of seeking justice on behalf of an uncalled for death lends itself to be, instead, an awful injustice at this point. It makes my stomach turn. Because meanwhile, you have the internet running rampant with alleged pictures of Trayvon looking menacing . . . and thus deserving of being killed because he was walking while Black? You also have members of white supremacist organizations hacking into his social networking accounts and email to post snippets of conversations that are meant to clearly depict the fact that he may have a juvenile record, again, this is clearly also because he’s Black. And had it coming. Thank you, random ignorant strangers. This is what I find totally unnecessary, irrelevant, and skew-ey to the process. Trading background, race, and crime stories until you’re blue in the face and have only just proven to widen the gap between two opposing sides while totally missing the point.

What is the point, then? The point is that if we want to put stock into the totally invasive process of going through a dead teenager’s email, you’ll find notices for scholarships, reminders for him to sign up for the upcoming SAT, and results from his college search. You’ll find huge, glaring remnants of what was a teenage boy gearing up for what should have been the rest of his life. You’ll find pieces of the Martin parents heart, shattered and permeating through every single fucking picture that others have disgustedly chosen to use to prove totally uncalled for factors. Strip away the fodder that we have for an alleged hate crime. Extract the ridiculous following that has developed for either side. Discard all the pictures, the soundbytes, the logged conversations – the extraneous albeit evidence. Let’s isolate all of that, and you’re left with a set of parents who have lost their seventeen-year-old son. You’re left with a girlfriend, who is likely to be heartbroken and scarred from not knowing that their last conversation was the last, oh, or that her seventeen year old boyfriend was shot. You have the person who was Trayvon Martin, who not only clearly had a past, but clearly had a fucking LIFE.

Take just that, and please can we do the proper thing and set ourselves on the path to justice? For the sake of just that, at least.

May you rest, Trayvon. Your tragedy has swept me away, and I hope nothing more than for your loved ones to find peace soon.

because she’s britney spears

I’m going to start an “artists I love” tag and hopefully build on it. This entry right here is, to say the least, a given.

So it’s really not a huge secret that I love Britney Spears. I don’t actually think that my reasons are that plainly obvious, though. There are the obligatory factors. Like, simply put, I really just enjoy her music. I think it’s fun, it’s catchy, it’s sexy, and well-produced. Admittedly, I don’t connect to it on any personal level, but most of her songs possess that extra ‘oomph’ factor that give them staying power, beyond the usual generic Disney tween or Bieber-esque stuff (yeah, I went there). Other contenders worth mentioning are that she’s gorgeous, she is a fantastic dancer, and she legitimately works really, really hard. I’ve never seen any holier-than-thou type of attitude from her, and she’s Britney mother-effing Spears.

Where my adoration for her actually gets personal, though, is not directly through her music, but is rooted in an almost, creepily enough, maternal kind of love. I watched her grow up, and stuck by her side throughout her many phases. It started off with just this teenage girl from a small town in Louisiana with a population of 2,500 entering onto the scene with some nonsensical catchy explosion of a song. It transformed her, over many years and many crazy fixations from the masses (her alleged breast implants, rumors/obsessions regarding her virginity, her coupling up perfectly with pop prince, Justin Timberlake) into one supreme female powerhouse of a star. There was no one like her. No one else, in present times, quite matches up to the level that Britney had reached regarding the fascination, the fixation, and the fandom.

Then, she and Justin broke up, she married Kevin Federline, she acted recklessly in public/in general, and, well, this list can be painfully drawn out and sliced however many ways you want it to be. But, in short – her pristine, pop-goddess image was shattered. But, aside from the hot mess of a person and career that came about during that period, then, was the very obvious fact that she fell apart for a bit. She fell into a dark place, and who was I to judge or to even begin to understand what that kind of fame would do to you? Aside from the fact that privacy was a completely foreign concept to her, she had risen to stardom before she even fully developed as a woman. She hadn’t even hit puberty yet when she became part of the Mickey Mouse Club, and was not even legal when “Baby One More Time” hit the scene. Going forward from there, her stardom only rose and any semblance of normalcy that was there to begin with in her life promptly went out the window. And that breaks my heart. Because all the money in the world can’t buy you a childhood or the nurture and process that you need in order to grow in those fundamental years of being an adolescent to a teenager to an adult.

So, with bated breath, I waited. I wasn’t even entirely sure of what I was waiting for, during her “break,” really, because her music was something that I probably could have lived without hearing any new developments from. I didn’t know her personally, so why did I want to see her better herself? Because I had decided to flimsily commit to her in 1998, and after years of being exposed to her and subsequently putting so much more emotional stock into that following, I refused to disengage myself from over a decade of what had turned into a full-blown dedication and loyalty. By then, it had gone beyond just any basic music fan liking an artist and their product. It became a personal investment. It became a love that knew no bounds. It still is just that.

In that same vein of the creepy mom-like love that I have for her, I ultimately just want her to be happy. I want her to come back onto the scene with her catchy pop-hits only if she wants to. I want her to tour on massively produced sets and all over the world if that’s what she legitimately enjoys doing. I want her to take time off and be with her kids because she now is a mother, on top of being a popstar celebrity. I’ve grown over the years, as she has, from first being exposed to her, to slowly realizing that the entity that we know as Britney Spears is a human being. That makes her no different than you or me. That makes her no less better, no less worse.

She is still pretty fuckin’ fabulous, though.

my least favorite “holiday”

I don’t know why I’m so vehemently against Halloween, but I am. In trying to dissect my seemingly irrational hatred down to more manageable and, well, actual reasons, I am hoping to realize that there are legitimate reasons for my disgust.

I think that most of the bad taste the day leaves in my mouth is attributed to the the fact that I don’t understand the holiday. I’ve been trying to get it for 20+ years of my life, so far. My first exposure to Halloween was when a trick-or-treater rang our doorbell. I was four and I thought we were getting robbed. Not a great start.

But, in all seriousness, I don’t understand Halloween at all. I get that its roots lay in the celebration of the dead and all that, and I understand remnants of it and the overall theme: spooky, bats, witches, ghouls, haunted houses, jack o’lanterns. I think trick or treating is a fun activity (apparently only meant for those 12 and under, much to my dismay). I don’t like anything else about it, though. I don’t like that the general sentiments of the holiday are to intentionally frighten people. I don’t like parading around, donning some get-up that’s completely and entirely separate from who I choose to be on a daily basis. I don’t see how that aligns with Halloween, at all. Also, I especially don’t like that the holiday, if there is any fundamental purpose to it, is completely shot to hell and lost amongst most people my age and we’re all expected to be a scantily clad version of whatever our costume is (for the ladies, especially) and/or to use the day/night to go out to get sloshed. I mean absolutely no disrespect for those who choose to drink as a means of having fun or in a social setting – I just fail to see the purpose or fun in doing so especially on Halloween. What are we celebrating, again?!

Maybe this has to do with the fact that I’m Asian, but I absolutely hate calling attention to myself for no apparent or justified reason. I believe in letting my product and work ethic in life speaking for itself; and while this entry may all of a sudden seem like it’s taking a grave turn, unnecessarily so, with me obnoxiously spewing out all my preachy life-beliefs from my high horse, it’s really just that I don’t believe in compromising my values just because it’s a so-called “holiday.” So, that’s where you’ll find any relevance. I just honestly don’t understand where the focal point of dressing up as someone you’re not (most of the time in a ridiculed or lingerie-ed fashion) came from, why it’s so pertinent to the holiday . . . and, just, what the holiday means, at all!

End tangent.

I don’t mean to chastise anyone who loves the holiday and looks forward to this day so much – more power to you for understanding and appreciating more than I do on that day. More power to you, if you don’t understand it either, for embracing the day while I would much rather just sit at home and wait until all candies with orange and black wrappers go on sale.

Happy Halloween. I can’t wait for Thanksgiving.