American Idol Aftermath
To most Filipinos, this season of
American Idol had the most tuned-in and interesting and infuriating and frustrating finale ever. Everyone had been so hopeful that the 16-year-old, half-Filipino, half-Mexican contestant named
Jessica Sanchez would win, given her amazing vocal chops and… amazing vocal chops. And of course, every Filipino wanted her to win because she’s a Filipino! When a Filipino joins an international singing competition, he should win because he’s a Filipino! He is the best singer in that show because he’s a Filipino! His competition would stand pale next to him because he’s a Filipino! And when that Filipino doesn’t win, well, this show sucks and/or a manipulation must have happened. How can a Filipino not win? God, this show really
sucks.
Hello,
us. Hello, Filipino mentality.
I’ve tuned in to
American Idol for almost five years, beginning season 7. I’ve witnessed three Filipinos made it to the live shows: two got eliminated halfway of the competition (i.e.
Ramiele Malubay and
Thia Megia) and the last one almost won. She was almost there – she almost raised the flag to the top. Only, it stopped a shy away. Sucks for us, really.
Sucks
more for the
Idol winner.
I know I shouldn’t be writing about singing competitions and the hoolahs that come with it – and especially, I don’t get to say who should win and who should not because I am not a singer and I’m basically tone deaf. But this is
American Idol (and not
Filipino Idol), even if I don’t live in either of the fifty glorious states that gets to vote, there’s this television trend called “match airing” where the networks can air a show within hours after it was shown in America (or somewhere) via satellite. It’s pathetic, really, how I get hooked to this show even if I can’t contribute to an
Idol hopeful’s destiny. But then I’m pathetic; we are
all pathetic.
Getting hooked to this show and rooting for a particular contestant and hopelessly crossing fingers to make sure he/she doesn’t get eliminated are some of the reasons why we ultimately hate the show after the finale and our rooted contestant doesn’t win. These are also the reasons why we hate not only the show, but also the
Idol winner. See? It sucks more for him/her.
This is the perfect time for me to insert the undying line, “You cannot please everybody”. It annoys me how people (majority of us, Filipinos) keep pushing that Jessica should have won and not the white guy with the guitar named
Phillip Phillips. If you can recall, when a result has been announced, it can’t ever be taken back (this only happens in
The Bachelor). And if you can also recall, this show is based on votes: the person with the most votes wins. This means we can’t put the blame on either Phillip Phillips or the show. You know who to put the blame to? The voters who tirelessly voted for Phillip to win. But then you can’t really blame them for not going gaga over Jessica – it’s their choice.
So if we just please stop sending hate mails to them? Could we please stop saying that America got it wrong, that Jessica is better than Phillip and that she should have won, that
American Idol sucks and such a cheater (because it really isn’t)? What can your rants do, really? It’s not like
American Idol would undo everything and alter the results. If you believe that the contestant with the biggest voice and most number of standing ovation should win,
Joshua Ledet shouldn’t have been eliminated, knocked everyone down and simply took over the competition… and so is
Adam Lambert or
Jacob Lusk
And what’s up with the “
American Idol shouldn’t be named
American Idol – it should be
White Guys With Guitars Idol”. So what if there’s a male trend in
Idol? It can be called as a mere coincidence… or that Americans just love laidback performers better. So maybe, umm, stop posting posters online of “How To Win in American Idol: 1) Must be a white guy; 2) Must know how to play guitar; 3) Must look good; 4) Must have the “underdog aura”; 5) Must basically be charismatic”. That’s just plain pathetic and bitter.
In a lighter mood, I rooted for this particular awesome guy named
Colton Dixon. (My early favorites
list.) I am basically in love with him, to be simple. I swear I always prayed and believed that he would win… only he didn’t. He got eliminated, placing 7th in the competition. It was heartbreaking, so heartbreaking I cried when he sang his last song, and asked my mom to stop watching the replays. I called it “my first
American Idol heartbreak”. After that I barely watched the show (I only saw it again when he performed on the finale). I didn’t hate America for not voting for my guy; I didn’t hate
American Idol for not having a second set of “save” for him. I just stopped watching the show because, honestly, he was the only one whom my attention was given to. After watching his performance from the first week of the live shows, I basically turn off the television, collapse on my bunk, fangirl and log in to Tumblr the next day to reblog photos of his performance. You can say it was biased, but really, err…
okay, it was biased. When he got eliminated, I still kept track of his career. I’ve learned that he
worked a little with Lifehouse, got invited to a ball in White House, met several famous artists along the way, got a
photo with the wax replica of Marilyn Monroe, and went back to his town, Murfreesboro, Tennessee, to
write his songs. To write his songs. To write his songs for his first solo
album. His first solo album. And in that moment, my prayers were answered:
he won.
This story is just one of the many evidences that an
Idol hopeful’s career won’t stop even if he doesn’t win. The life after the competition is just the start. If he is really good, he would make it far. And having an
Idol title isn’t basically necessary. Of course, it is important, but what’s more important is the passion an artist has to chase his dreams of winning a recording contract and having a platinum album.
So,
American Idol winner or not, Jessica Sanchez will make it big. And so will Phillip Phillips and everyone else from the competition – it’s just a matter of perseverance and hard work, really. Can we now all move on and hug each other?
The Lady Gaga Fireball
The recently-concluded Lady Gaga “Born This Way Ball” concert tour burned like a massive beacon in the night that even sleeping and we-don’t-give-a-damn people woke up and started giving a damn. It added so many sparks in the growing wild fire of morality issue, in a country where it’s still tipping the balance between conservatism and liberalism. Everyone had been talking about this particular issue that it even landed its own spot in the headlines next to Chief Justice Renato Corona’s impeachment trial and Jessica Sanchez’s
American Idol escapade. Funny, people are starving in the corner and dying all over, and we still give our attention to an international pop sensation with her crazy hair, barely-there clothes (or costumes, perhaps) and explicit but artful music. This is exactly what not having a
proper life means.
For the sake of my international readers (I hope there is any), the issue was about the Christian and other religious groups protesting against Lady Gaga and her music. They remonstrated to have the singer’s two-night concert stopped because she is a provocative artist and her music is upsetting their religious views and beliefs, that the lyrics, imagery and theme of some of her songs directly attack Jesus Christ. The song,
Judas, with the eyebrow-raising words, “I’m just a holy fool, oh baby it’s so cruel, but I’m still in love with Judas baby”, specifically called the attention of the conservative religious groups. It was stated that the particular song was blasphemous and insulting to the laws of God and the Bible. A group leader of the protesters even said that he would file a case against Lady Gaga if she performs the song in either of her concerts in Manila.
They also didn’t favor her way of dressing, saying that she is always half-naked and very sensual. They are concerned that her music would taint the youth’s moral fiber and faith. They protested on the first night of the concert while keeping safe distance from the venue and conducting a prayer vigil. There were no more protests the next night.
On the other hand, Lady Gaga’s representatives defended her by stating that she is not anti-Christ, and by assuring the public that the performances would not serve as a threat at marring the youth’s morality and conduct. “Those who criticize Lady Gaga are the ones who won’t be watching her concert anyway. Those watching will watch no matter what because they know that things said about Lady Gaga is pure nonsense,” Ovation Productions chief Renen de Guia said.
On the first night of the Born This Way Ball, Lady Gaga became emotional, firmly saying these words: “I’m not an alien, I’m not a woman, I’m not a man, and I’m not a creature of your government, Manila. I’m all your dreams and I’m all your potential. Let me be all your insecurities and your fears. I’m your future… I’m everything that makes you sad and angry. I’m you, little monsters. Tonight’s not about making a statement. Tonight’s us all coming together because we believe we were all born this way. Some people say I stand for things that are bad. The truth is: I want the best for every single one of you.” And she still sang her controversial song despite the clamor against it.
And here goes my views.
To be honest, I’m not Lady Gaga’s biggest fan. Even if you collect all my friends and I and rank us according to “How Gaga Are You For Gaga”, I’d probably be in the last place – or in second to the last. It’s not that I don’t like her, she’s just one of those people whom her taste and my taste don’t actually equal. But I respect her; I think her appreciation for arts and music is phenomenal. I love how artistic she is, and that she doesn’t give a damn if people think her style is only acceptable in places like Halloween Town. Yes, she is really provocative – maybe one of the most bizarrely styled artists, with the most decode-the-hidden-message song lyrics. But do I think she’s anti-Christ? Nope. Do I think she and her songs are blasphemous? Nope. Do I think her moniker “Mother Monster” literally lives inside her, a scary unfathomable being sending Satan’s evilness to mankind? Heck, no.
I’m not against Lady Gaga. I’m not against the Christian and religious community. I’m not against anybody on this issue. I am all for respect, identity and freedom of speech and arts. Both sides have their own points and their own reasons. What I’m upset about is the judgment a person like Lady Gaga receives from those who believe that she is a messenger of Satan. Oh, really? So Satan had chosen her – out of all people – to be his human medium for world domination and spreading evilness? How can you say that she is an atheist if she wrote her most famous song with the words, “I’m beautiful in my way ‘cause God makes no mistake”? That doesn’t sound like someone who hates the Great Man. And if you truly believe she is one, well news flash: So is Mark Zuckerberg, and yet you still use Facebook.
And what’s with the entire clamor against her song Judas? Haven’t you noticed before that this song had been playing on the radio and its video had been seen on your televisions a hundred times now? Now that she came back to entertain her little monsters, you suddenly realized that, oh, Judas is a bad song. She said before that the song is for some guy she dated before, not to attack religion and Jesus. This is called “arts”.
The Bible teaches us to accept and love people for who they really are, be them gay, lesbian, liberal, conservative, weird, chaotic and/or different. It also reminds us to not judge people because, really, who are we to judge? You’re not God. You’re His creation, and so is Lady Gaga. And that fact makes us all equal. No matter how unfair life is, we are all
equal.
So okay, maybe this is a little biased. I’m a Catholic; I pray and believe in God… but I’m also considerate. And I do not tolerate looking down at people and judging them just because they dress in some weird and uncensored way and just because they are hard to be understood. I’m all for God and self-expression.
Notes:
- News articles {1} {2} {3} {4}
- Photos {1} {2} {3} {4}
PBB: House of Chaos
So we have this show on TV which is entitled Pinoy Big Brother (PBB), a franchise of
Big Brother, and produced by Endemol. This reality show is such a hit that its producers worked their asses off to open a new season a week after the last one ended. Indeed, Filipinos love to watch people get down and dirty on live television, and talk about them when there’s nothing worth talking about… well, other than people getting down and dirty on live television. Perhaps reality TV is now part of the Filipino tradition: we won’t know what to do without it. Even psychologist or psychiatrist or whatever sees this as a cause of some drug-induced criminal acts with the involvement of cameras and killing people while recording the gruesome incident… and winking like a maniac at the end of the “successful reality act”. (This is not to tolerate such stupid acts; all my heart goes to every victim who had undergone such unfortunate death).
Going back to PBB. The latest season airing in our boob tubes right now is the Teen Edition: gathering a bunch of kids aging from 13 to 17 years old with the most bizarre personalities and dumping them inside the now-famous mansion of a phantom called “Kuya”. This is basically like The Hunger Games, without the killings and silver parachutes. Right now the teenagers are in a circle of chaos. There’s this issue with – for heaven’s sake – rationing of
food amongst the hormonally imbalanced housemates. In the center of it all is the “Alpha Goggles”, which I learned from Twitter Trending Topics, is a fraternity-slash-clique-slash-something formed inside the Big Brother house by these housemates named Kit, Ryan, Roy and Tom. As far as I know (which isn’t much since I barely tune in to this petty drama), the Alpha Goggles doesn’t divide the food equally and takes the biggest part of the cake. And why is that? Because they’re the ones who basically work in the kitchen because the girls (ironically) aren’t that good of a cook than these boys are. You get the most because you give the most. It seems rational, right?
I think it’s half-rational and half-irrational.
I’m not much of critic and a guru of moral values (because I believe I have the blood of a Slytherin), so I have no say of how they should behave or who is right or wrong. But then I have the beliefs of a Ravenclaw, which means I – mostly – think logically, without giving a damn about people’s feelings. I’m not a Hufflepuff, so basically I don’t care about emotions and fear of hurting others. (This is how I see the Hogwarts Houses, I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet yours.) So again, if you look at it logically, the Alpha Goggles is right about one thing: they eat more because they’re the ones who make and prepare the food. And then wrong about one, too: they keep some food to themselves because… I don’t know really. They’ve all worked hard for the weekly budget so they all should equally benefit from it.
But then I didn’t write this semi-review because of what’s happening inside, but outside, over the Internet (because I don’t fully know what the real score is, and because what I only notice are the reactions from
PBB enthusiasts). Let’s leave the verdict to Paco and Kuya, shall we?
It’s so annoying how people on Twitter get all jumpy when they see
PBB and maniacally tweet their hearts out because, hey, we hold the freedom of speech. I respect all the freedom and rights people have, but how about the housemates’? You can’t just tweet about how “Kit should be evicted, Ryan and Roy should be nominated, and Tom should be spared because he’s a good boy (and he looks cute) anyway”. What are the hate tweets for,
really? It’s not as if the
PBB people will read all your tweets – and if they do, there’s a point zero, zero probability that they’d execute what you want them to execute.
You are not their boss. Okay, you are their target market; they should meet your expectations and your reality TV fetish, but great heavens! You are
not Ms. Charo Santos-Concio; you are
not Mr. Laurenti Dyogi. You are just one of their euphoric spectators who makes money for them.
And why all the effort to ridicule and judge Alpha Goggles – and the other housemates – when you don’t even know what truly happened. I’m not backing the Alpha Goggles up; I also think some of their principles are fundamentally not acceptable. You’re not living with them; you are not inside the house. Even watching the live stream (which I think is ridiculous – you haven’t any life, have you?) doesn’t give you the full and true score of what really is happening. It’s the television: everything can be edited. I saw this tweet saying how “Kit and Ryan are assholes and disrespectful” and that “Roy is just a construction worker”. Oh, really? Have you looked at yourself lately, or say, after you send that tweet? So who’s disrespectful now? And how dare you look down at Roy’s decent work, the work that helps him feed his family and send his siblings to school?
And what if their parents or their relatives or someone they care about are also on Twitter or any social networking site and read those posts? It wouldn’t be hard anyway since it’s
trending. Trending. Just a click away from all the hate tweets. Have you learned the word “consideration” in school? How about “discretion”?
I’m not being a hypocrite and all. To be honest, I’ve done that before: bashing on someone I don’t like. But then I realized it’s bad. I didn’t like Charice before, and until now I’m not her fan, but at least I
respect her and I’ve stopped talking shits about her ever since. I don’t like The Wanted, so as much as possible I don’t listen to their songs so I won’t have anything to say about them and their music. I agree with that one Youtube comment that Jessica Sanchez has the “personality of a brick”. But then she’s a Filipino and she’s really good (but not my type) so I just leave her alone. It won’t do me any good. I’m just wasting all my effort hating on them. I’d rather read and fangirl over the people I adore; I’d rather have a
life. I don’t hate them anyway; they’re just not my favorite people in the world.
So I just hope you’d think first before clicking that Send button. Who knows, that I-think-this-is-harmless post might hurt somebody who the housemates (or anybody) cares about. Think. Consider. Edit. Think again. Send. Or just leave it alone and move on with your life.
PS: I love you, guys. Really.
Summer Bummer
“That moment when you’re already sleepy, then ideas suddenly flow like a waterfall... but when you had lots of time, got no ideas. Rawr.”
That, ladies and gentlemen, is so true it could be my life mantra (except for the “rawr” of course). I’ve been trying to blog about something –
anything – for the past couple of days but got into nothing because, I don’t know, there’s just something about summer that eats our brain and leads us to a massive need for procrastination. I’ve been so desperate to feed my blog with sensible words that I even started asking people for worthy topics to write about. (“Write about electricity failure,” my niece said; “Write about us,” a vain friend of mine said.) I spent the whole day yesterday trying to squeeze my brain for some blogging capabilities I once had. It’s ironic, isn’t it? That it’s summer and I can have all the time I need but still
can’t blog? This is even worse than having classes. So last night, just as the moment I closed my eyes, these phrases just ran like torrent in my mind and it annoyed me so much I started slapping my forehead. Now I’m trying to remember those phrases and collect them together to compose a decent entry.
I thought, “Why not write about how lame my summer is?” But then I realized that it’s so cliché that it could lead to my losing of followers (which isn’t a lot). I asked someone on Twitter if writing about one’s self sounds egotistic. She said, “No, it’s your blog anyway.” Yes, it’s my blog anyway. And since I can’t write about the whole scientific reasons behind the power failure we experience in our place, and since I don’t give a
damn about stirring my sleeping memories of how I met my friends slash part-time band mates, yes guys, I will write about how lame my summer is. What else is there to write, really (well, aside from my unfinished essay about insecurities)? And why can’t we have a summer like these kids
here and
here? Smh.
The time flies so fast that, in just a couple of weeks, school will start again. While some find this extra depressing, most of us, especially those who can’t seem to focus on anything, regard this as good news. My summer, in particular, is so lame that I don’t want to do anything to make it less of a lame anymore. If lame is my summer, then lame it is. I spend my waking hours thinking what to do, but my laziness kills all my will and I’d end the day with an unfinished business and a gradually decaying body. I know, “we are the pilot of our own destiny”, but if our plane doesn’t have enough fuel and there’s nowhere to fly to, we’d ditch this pilot crap and resign from our work.
You may ask, “Why so pessimistic? What’s so bad with summer that you’d wish for school already?” Let’s see. I can give you all the reasons I can think of but that would take a lot of time (and I don’t want to have a really, really long blog post). But here, these are the reasons why my “summer” is becoming a “bummer”.
The heat. What’s summer without heat? Of course, summer should be hot so we could sunbathe clad in our bikini and brag our tans to our friends. But really, this heat is scorching everyone can pass out because of heat stroke. We’ve had enough of tropical-ness in this tropical country of ours. The heat isn’t
normal. Our little Summer Paradise is just one degree Celsius shy away from Summer Hellhole.
And the rain. How abnormal can our weather be? News flash: Global warming. Bipolar weather leads to bipolar people.
Distractions. A big problem of mine. When I was in school, I can at least write something for my blog once week. But now, there’s just too many interesting stuff to give my attention to, too many movies to watch, too many boys to stalk online. I can’t seem to focus on anything lately. I’d be all interested in one thing, but just one click in New Tab, the former interest will be a lost cause. Even my reading is affected by distractions. I’m still on the third chapter of
Passion, the third novel from the
Fallen Series (Lauren Kate). In normal circumstances, I’d have finished it in a day or two (what with all the sexiness fallen angels exude). Right now I can’t read anything other than Twitter feeds and blog posts and
One Direction video comments. (I’m not a Directioner, I just like
Zayn Malik... but maybe I am).
Broke. Need I say more?
Reflections. Reflecting once in a while is good unless you contemplate the bad ones. Which is precisely my thing. I’ve looked at all the sides but I can’t see the brighter one; it’s always the dark. I love being alone, yes, but my isolation forces me to think about things which aren’t always colorful and about cute kittens and unicorns. It forces me to think ill of myself, and when I get tired of my round of self-pity, I think ill of the people around me. It’s so bad I’m starting to think that if there’s Heaven, I don’t belong there. My reflections cause me to be badly insecure, and my only way to get pass it is to either ridicule myself or think that “others have it worse”, which is
basically thinking ill. I’m such a troubled, distraught kid.
Maybe I can still make this work. It’s all in the mind anyway, and I’m still the pilot with the rustiest and lamest plane ever, with the smallest net worth. But – I can’t believe I’m saying this – I’m really looking forward to the next school year. I guess this is really bad.
Dead Days Are Over
After all the depressing moments and days I had, I still haven’t got an idea why God – or someone – hasn’t invented “Dead Days” yet: days when you can just laze around and nobody will notice you until the next morning comes. Dead days aren’t just the I’m-locking-myself-up-in-my-room-all-day or the don’t-disturb-me-just-call-me-when-needed days. Dead days are those days when you just feel like you’re dead: nobody notices you; you can go around naked and nobody would care; you won’t hear your mother nag or your father pestering you with awkward questions. Dead days are just dead days. After those days, you will be alive again. It’s not like what happened to Jesus Christ when he died, not like resurrecting after the third day. You can choose when your Dead Days would end and when you will rise again.
It’s a cool thing, being able to do that. It’s annoying when your family is in chaos or when you broke up with the one you love, and you feel like you want to die, but you can’t because it’s a sin. When Dead Days are allowed or are invented, you can choose to live or not to live through that horrible day. It’s like committing suicide; the good thing about it is that you won’t really die or suffer from terrible consequences if ever you survived (like trauma or depression or shame). In Dead Days, when you commit suicide, you only die one or two days and you live again the next. You guys get what I mean?
Dead Days will be very helpful during annoying, hurting, awful times – especially to struggling teenagers with their crazy hormones taking over. Most teenagers, when faced with these circumstances, either say, “Life sucks” or say, “I want to die right now”. Teenagers with a positive outlook, on the other hand, has “Everything will get better” as their unfaltering life mantra. But, reality check, it’s safer to say that there are more pessimistic and angry teenagers than the optimistic and happy-like-kittens ones. There are more teenagers who did not have a happy childhood and grew and lived with little source of happiness, than those who had dollhouses and birthday bashes even if they didn’t know who their guests were and cried at the sight of horrible clowns. Don’t believe me? Take a look around a mob full of teenagers. How many of them are happy – and I meant
really happy? Two? Three? How many of them are worried but putting on a happy face? Oh, you don’t know. How would you? They’re faking it. How many of them are all-out, no putting-a-happy-fake-face troubled? What? Almost everyone? See? My rough statistics is almost accurate.
I like it when young people know when they are happy or when they are sad. It’s a good sign that they know how to express themselves and are not faking everything just to look cool or be “in”. I’m not saying that they thrash around and “Avada Kedavra” every living person on their way. I’m just saying that I like people better when they tell you they’re mad or when they have a problem or when they feel shitty and flip you off. At least, that way, you know where you stand and need to stand. It’s less frustrating than when girls give guys subtle hints that only the other side can understand. Being angry is not always being mad… it’s just steaming off all the piled up frustrations. It’s the need to have Dead Days. Tada!
Dead Days, to these angry, troubled, struggling teenagers, are heaven. No pun intended.
If one of their days is like an avalanche full of shit, they can just play the Dead Days card and stop the shits from rolling down and finally burying them. It’s like pulling a lever to close the cell they’re living in. It’s like putting on really big beats and playing loud music till they hear nothing. It’s like becoming a dead fly on the wall – hearing nothing, seeing nothing, caring for nothing. It’s like finally having the opportunity to take a break from all the problems that may shatter them when pushed some more. We all need that break – break from worrying too much about our final grades or about meeting and/or exceeding the monster that is called expectations. It’s a way to stop things from falling apart when their falling apart is never needed by anyone, when putting them back to one piece will take forever.
It’s like giving up but not entirely giving up – just surrendering for one day or two.
But then Dead Days are impossible to ever occur. They can’t be given to us by God or Hades when we feel like we’re being broken down to pieces in an excruciatingly slow process, and the only way to end the agony is by playing dead. I don’t know why that’s the case, but that’s the painful reality of it – life’s messy and never fair… but we never run out of second chances to make it less messy and barely fair. There’s always hope… until we’re dead.
Maybe that’s why there are no Dead Days – because being dead doesn’t necessarily make things better. Dead days just
halt things but
don’t stop it. Just hitting pause on the record player, where eventually, we’d need to push play again… and stop when everything’s over. There’s no stopping, just slowing things down; feeling like a dead person, but needing to wake up again.
Maybe that’s why we only have the bad days, good days, lucky days, red days (for girls), bad hair days, dog days, etc.
Because life is life, and it goes on and on.
Sorry, this is such a pessimistic post.
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
American Idol Aftermath
To most Filipinos, this season of
American Idol had the most tuned-in and interesting and infuriating and frustrating finale ever. Everyone had been so hopeful that the 16-year-old, half-Filipino, half-Mexican contestant named
Jessica Sanchez would win, given her amazing vocal chops and… amazing vocal chops. And of course, every Filipino wanted her to win because she’s a Filipino! When a Filipino joins an international singing competition, he should win because he’s a Filipino! He is the best singer in that show because he’s a Filipino! His competition would stand pale next to him because he’s a Filipino! And when that Filipino doesn’t win, well, this show sucks and/or a manipulation must have happened. How can a Filipino not win? God, this show really
sucks.
Hello,
us. Hello, Filipino mentality.
I’ve tuned in to
American Idol for almost five years, beginning season 7. I’ve witnessed three Filipinos made it to the live shows: two got eliminated halfway of the competition (i.e.
Ramiele Malubay and
Thia Megia) and the last one almost won. She was almost there – she almost raised the flag to the top. Only, it stopped a shy away. Sucks for us, really.
Sucks
more for the
Idol winner.
I know I shouldn’t be writing about singing competitions and the hoolahs that come with it – and especially, I don’t get to say who should win and who should not because I am not a singer and I’m basically tone deaf. But this is
American Idol (and not
Filipino Idol), even if I don’t live in either of the fifty glorious states that gets to vote, there’s this television trend called “match airing” where the networks can air a show within hours after it was shown in America (or somewhere) via satellite. It’s pathetic, really, how I get hooked to this show even if I can’t contribute to an
Idol hopeful’s destiny. But then I’m pathetic; we are
all pathetic.
Getting hooked to this show and rooting for a particular contestant and hopelessly crossing fingers to make sure he/she doesn’t get eliminated are some of the reasons why we ultimately hate the show after the finale and our rooted contestant doesn’t win. These are also the reasons why we hate not only the show, but also the
Idol winner. See? It sucks more for him/her.
This is the perfect time for me to insert the undying line, “You cannot please everybody”. It annoys me how people (majority of us, Filipinos) keep pushing that Jessica should have won and not the white guy with the guitar named
Phillip Phillips. If you can recall, when a result has been announced, it can’t ever be taken back (this only happens in
The Bachelor). And if you can also recall, this show is based on votes: the person with the most votes wins. This means we can’t put the blame on either Phillip Phillips or the show. You know who to put the blame to? The voters who tirelessly voted for Phillip to win. But then you can’t really blame them for not going gaga over Jessica – it’s their choice.
So if we just please stop sending hate mails to them? Could we please stop saying that America got it wrong, that Jessica is better than Phillip and that she should have won, that
American Idol sucks and such a cheater (because it really isn’t)? What can your rants do, really? It’s not like
American Idol would undo everything and alter the results. If you believe that the contestant with the biggest voice and most number of standing ovation should win,
Joshua Ledet shouldn’t have been eliminated, knocked everyone down and simply took over the competition… and so is
Adam Lambert or
Jacob LuskAnd what’s up with the “
American Idol shouldn’t be named
American Idol – it should be
White Guys With Guitars Idol”. So what if there’s a male trend in
Idol? It can be called as a mere coincidence… or that Americans just love laidback performers better. So maybe, umm, stop posting posters online of “How To Win in American Idol: 1) Must be a white guy; 2) Must know how to play guitar; 3) Must look good; 4) Must have the “underdog aura”; 5) Must basically be charismatic”. That’s just plain pathetic and bitter.
In a lighter mood, I rooted for this particular awesome guy named
Colton Dixon. (My early favorites
list.) I am basically in love with him, to be simple. I swear I always prayed and believed that he would win… only he didn’t. He got eliminated, placing 7th in the competition. It was heartbreaking, so heartbreaking I cried when he sang his last song, and asked my mom to stop watching the replays. I called it “my first
American Idol heartbreak”. After that I barely watched the show (I only saw it again when he performed on the finale). I didn’t hate America for not voting for my guy; I didn’t hate
American Idol for not having a second set of “save” for him. I just stopped watching the show because, honestly, he was the only one whom my attention was given to. After watching his performance from the first week of the live shows, I basically turn off the television, collapse on my bunk, fangirl and log in to Tumblr the next day to reblog photos of his performance. You can say it was biased, but really, err…
okay, it was biased. When he got eliminated, I still kept track of his career. I’ve learned that he
worked a little with Lifehouse, got invited to a ball in White House, met several famous artists along the way, got a
photo with the wax replica of Marilyn Monroe, and went back to his town, Murfreesboro, Tennessee, to
write his songs. To write his songs. To write his songs for his first solo
album. His first solo album. And in that moment, my prayers were answered:
he won.
This story is just one of the many evidences that an
Idol hopeful’s career won’t stop even if he doesn’t win. The life after the competition is just the start. If he is really good, he would make it far. And having an
Idol title isn’t basically necessary. Of course, it is important, but what’s more important is the passion an artist has to chase his dreams of winning a recording contract and having a platinum album.
So,
American Idol winner or not, Jessica Sanchez will make it big. And so will Phillip Phillips and everyone else from the competition – it’s just a matter of perseverance and hard work, really. Can we now all move on and hug each other?
The Lady Gaga Fireball
The recently-concluded Lady Gaga “Born This Way Ball” concert tour burned like a massive beacon in the night that even sleeping and we-don’t-give-a-damn people woke up and started giving a damn. It added so many sparks in the growing wild fire of morality issue, in a country where it’s still tipping the balance between conservatism and liberalism. Everyone had been talking about this particular issue that it even landed its own spot in the headlines next to Chief Justice Renato Corona’s impeachment trial and Jessica Sanchez’s
American Idol escapade. Funny, people are starving in the corner and dying all over, and we still give our attention to an international pop sensation with her crazy hair, barely-there clothes (or costumes, perhaps) and explicit but artful music. This is exactly what not having a
proper life means.
For the sake of my international readers (I hope there is any), the issue was about the Christian and other religious groups protesting against Lady Gaga and her music. They remonstrated to have the singer’s two-night concert stopped because she is a provocative artist and her music is upsetting their religious views and beliefs, that the lyrics, imagery and theme of some of her songs directly attack Jesus Christ. The song,
Judas, with the eyebrow-raising words, “I’m just a holy fool, oh baby it’s so cruel, but I’m still in love with Judas baby”, specifically called the attention of the conservative religious groups. It was stated that the particular song was blasphemous and insulting to the laws of God and the Bible. A group leader of the protesters even said that he would file a case against Lady Gaga if she performs the song in either of her concerts in Manila.
They also didn’t favor her way of dressing, saying that she is always half-naked and very sensual. They are concerned that her music would taint the youth’s moral fiber and faith. They protested on the first night of the concert while keeping safe distance from the venue and conducting a prayer vigil. There were no more protests the next night.
On the other hand, Lady Gaga’s representatives defended her by stating that she is not anti-Christ, and by assuring the public that the performances would not serve as a threat at marring the youth’s morality and conduct. “Those who criticize Lady Gaga are the ones who won’t be watching her concert anyway. Those watching will watch no matter what because they know that things said about Lady Gaga is pure nonsense,” Ovation Productions chief Renen de Guia said.
On the first night of the Born This Way Ball, Lady Gaga became emotional, firmly saying these words: “I’m not an alien, I’m not a woman, I’m not a man, and I’m not a creature of your government, Manila. I’m all your dreams and I’m all your potential. Let me be all your insecurities and your fears. I’m your future… I’m everything that makes you sad and angry. I’m you, little monsters. Tonight’s not about making a statement. Tonight’s us all coming together because we believe we were all born this way. Some people say I stand for things that are bad. The truth is: I want the best for every single one of you.” And she still sang her controversial song despite the clamor against it.
And here goes my views.
To be honest, I’m not Lady Gaga’s biggest fan. Even if you collect all my friends and I and rank us according to “How Gaga Are You For Gaga”, I’d probably be in the last place – or in second to the last. It’s not that I don’t like her, she’s just one of those people whom her taste and my taste don’t actually equal. But I respect her; I think her appreciation for arts and music is phenomenal. I love how artistic she is, and that she doesn’t give a damn if people think her style is only acceptable in places like Halloween Town. Yes, she is really provocative – maybe one of the most bizarrely styled artists, with the most decode-the-hidden-message song lyrics. But do I think she’s anti-Christ? Nope. Do I think she and her songs are blasphemous? Nope. Do I think her moniker “Mother Monster” literally lives inside her, a scary unfathomable being sending Satan’s evilness to mankind? Heck, no.
I’m not against Lady Gaga. I’m not against the Christian and religious community. I’m not against anybody on this issue. I am all for respect, identity and freedom of speech and arts. Both sides have their own points and their own reasons. What I’m upset about is the judgment a person like Lady Gaga receives from those who believe that she is a messenger of Satan. Oh, really? So Satan had chosen her – out of all people – to be his human medium for world domination and spreading evilness? How can you say that she is an atheist if she wrote her most famous song with the words, “I’m beautiful in my way ‘cause God makes no mistake”? That doesn’t sound like someone who hates the Great Man. And if you truly believe she is one, well news flash: So is Mark Zuckerberg, and yet you still use Facebook.
And what’s with the entire clamor against her song Judas? Haven’t you noticed before that this song had been playing on the radio and its video had been seen on your televisions a hundred times now? Now that she came back to entertain her little monsters, you suddenly realized that, oh, Judas is a bad song. She said before that the song is for some guy she dated before, not to attack religion and Jesus. This is called “arts”.
The Bible teaches us to accept and love people for who they really are, be them gay, lesbian, liberal, conservative, weird, chaotic and/or different. It also reminds us to not judge people because, really, who are we to judge? You’re not God. You’re His creation, and so is Lady Gaga. And that fact makes us all equal. No matter how unfair life is, we are all
equal.
So okay, maybe this is a little biased. I’m a Catholic; I pray and believe in God… but I’m also considerate. And I do not tolerate looking down at people and judging them just because they dress in some weird and uncensored way and just because they are hard to be understood. I’m all for God and self-expression.
Notes:
- News articles {1} {2} {3} {4}
- Photos {1} {2} {3} {4}
PBB: House of Chaos
So we have this show on TV which is entitled Pinoy Big Brother (PBB), a franchise of
Big Brother, and produced by Endemol. This reality show is such a hit that its producers worked their asses off to open a new season a week after the last one ended. Indeed, Filipinos love to watch people get down and dirty on live television, and talk about them when there’s nothing worth talking about… well, other than people getting down and dirty on live television. Perhaps reality TV is now part of the Filipino tradition: we won’t know what to do without it. Even psychologist or psychiatrist or whatever sees this as a cause of some drug-induced criminal acts with the involvement of cameras and killing people while recording the gruesome incident… and winking like a maniac at the end of the “successful reality act”. (This is not to tolerate such stupid acts; all my heart goes to every victim who had undergone such unfortunate death).
Going back to PBB. The latest season airing in our boob tubes right now is the Teen Edition: gathering a bunch of kids aging from 13 to 17 years old with the most bizarre personalities and dumping them inside the now-famous mansion of a phantom called “Kuya”. This is basically like The Hunger Games, without the killings and silver parachutes. Right now the teenagers are in a circle of chaos. There’s this issue with – for heaven’s sake – rationing of
food amongst the hormonally imbalanced housemates. In the center of it all is the “Alpha Goggles”, which I learned from Twitter Trending Topics, is a fraternity-slash-clique-slash-something formed inside the Big Brother house by these housemates named Kit, Ryan, Roy and Tom. As far as I know (which isn’t much since I barely tune in to this petty drama), the Alpha Goggles doesn’t divide the food equally and takes the biggest part of the cake. And why is that? Because they’re the ones who basically work in the kitchen because the girls (ironically) aren’t that good of a cook than these boys are. You get the most because you give the most. It seems rational, right?
I think it’s half-rational and half-irrational.
I’m not much of critic and a guru of moral values (because I believe I have the blood of a Slytherin), so I have no say of how they should behave or who is right or wrong. But then I have the beliefs of a Ravenclaw, which means I – mostly – think logically, without giving a damn about people’s feelings. I’m not a Hufflepuff, so basically I don’t care about emotions and fear of hurting others. (This is how I see the Hogwarts Houses, I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet yours.) So again, if you look at it logically, the Alpha Goggles is right about one thing: they eat more because they’re the ones who make and prepare the food. And then wrong about one, too: they keep some food to themselves because… I don’t know really. They’ve all worked hard for the weekly budget so they all should equally benefit from it.
But then I didn’t write this semi-review because of what’s happening inside, but outside, over the Internet (because I don’t fully know what the real score is, and because what I only notice are the reactions from
PBB enthusiasts). Let’s leave the verdict to Paco and Kuya, shall we?
It’s so annoying how people on Twitter get all jumpy when they see
PBB and maniacally tweet their hearts out because, hey, we hold the freedom of speech. I respect all the freedom and rights people have, but how about the housemates’? You can’t just tweet about how “Kit should be evicted, Ryan and Roy should be nominated, and Tom should be spared because he’s a good boy (and he looks cute) anyway”. What are the hate tweets for,
really? It’s not as if the
PBB people will read all your tweets – and if they do, there’s a point zero, zero probability that they’d execute what you want them to execute.
You are not their boss. Okay, you are their target market; they should meet your expectations and your reality TV fetish, but great heavens! You are
not Ms. Charo Santos-Concio; you are
not Mr. Laurenti Dyogi. You are just one of their euphoric spectators who makes money for them.
And why all the effort to ridicule and judge Alpha Goggles – and the other housemates – when you don’t even know what truly happened. I’m not backing the Alpha Goggles up; I also think some of their principles are fundamentally not acceptable. You’re not living with them; you are not inside the house. Even watching the live stream (which I think is ridiculous – you haven’t any life, have you?) doesn’t give you the full and true score of what really is happening. It’s the television: everything can be edited. I saw this tweet saying how “Kit and Ryan are assholes and disrespectful” and that “Roy is just a construction worker”. Oh, really? Have you looked at yourself lately, or say, after you send that tweet? So who’s disrespectful now? And how dare you look down at Roy’s decent work, the work that helps him feed his family and send his siblings to school?
And what if their parents or their relatives or someone they care about are also on Twitter or any social networking site and read those posts? It wouldn’t be hard anyway since it’s
trending. Trending. Just a click away from all the hate tweets. Have you learned the word “consideration” in school? How about “discretion”?
I’m not being a hypocrite and all. To be honest, I’ve done that before: bashing on someone I don’t like. But then I realized it’s bad. I didn’t like Charice before, and until now I’m not her fan, but at least I
respect her and I’ve stopped talking shits about her ever since. I don’t like The Wanted, so as much as possible I don’t listen to their songs so I won’t have anything to say about them and their music. I agree with that one Youtube comment that Jessica Sanchez has the “personality of a brick”. But then she’s a Filipino and she’s really good (but not my type) so I just leave her alone. It won’t do me any good. I’m just wasting all my effort hating on them. I’d rather read and fangirl over the people I adore; I’d rather have a
life. I don’t hate them anyway; they’re just not my favorite people in the world.
So I just hope you’d think first before clicking that Send button. Who knows, that I-think-this-is-harmless post might hurt somebody who the housemates (or anybody) cares about. Think. Consider. Edit. Think again. Send. Or just leave it alone and move on with your life.
PS: I love you, guys. Really.
Summer Bummer
“That moment when you’re already sleepy, then ideas suddenly flow like a waterfall... but when you had lots of time, got no ideas. Rawr.”
That, ladies and gentlemen, is so true it could be my life mantra (except for the “rawr” of course). I’ve been trying to blog about something –
anything – for the past couple of days but got into nothing because, I don’t know, there’s just something about summer that eats our brain and leads us to a massive need for procrastination. I’ve been so desperate to feed my blog with sensible words that I even started asking people for worthy topics to write about. (“Write about electricity failure,” my niece said; “Write about us,” a vain friend of mine said.) I spent the whole day yesterday trying to squeeze my brain for some blogging capabilities I once had. It’s ironic, isn’t it? That it’s summer and I can have all the time I need but still
can’t blog? This is even worse than having classes. So last night, just as the moment I closed my eyes, these phrases just ran like torrent in my mind and it annoyed me so much I started slapping my forehead. Now I’m trying to remember those phrases and collect them together to compose a decent entry.
I thought, “Why not write about how lame my summer is?” But then I realized that it’s so cliché that it could lead to my losing of followers (which isn’t a lot). I asked someone on Twitter if writing about one’s self sounds egotistic. She said, “No, it’s your blog anyway.” Yes, it’s my blog anyway. And since I can’t write about the whole scientific reasons behind the power failure we experience in our place, and since I don’t give a
damn about stirring my sleeping memories of how I met my friends slash part-time band mates, yes guys, I will write about how lame my summer is. What else is there to write, really (well, aside from my unfinished essay about insecurities)? And why can’t we have a summer like these kids
here and
here? Smh.
The time flies so fast that, in just a couple of weeks, school will start again. While some find this extra depressing, most of us, especially those who can’t seem to focus on anything, regard this as good news. My summer, in particular, is so lame that I don’t want to do anything to make it less of a lame anymore. If lame is my summer, then lame it is. I spend my waking hours thinking what to do, but my laziness kills all my will and I’d end the day with an unfinished business and a gradually decaying body. I know, “we are the pilot of our own destiny”, but if our plane doesn’t have enough fuel and there’s nowhere to fly to, we’d ditch this pilot crap and resign from our work.
You may ask, “Why so pessimistic? What’s so bad with summer that you’d wish for school already?” Let’s see. I can give you all the reasons I can think of but that would take a lot of time (and I don’t want to have a really, really long blog post). But here, these are the reasons why my “summer” is becoming a “bummer”.
The heat. What’s summer without heat? Of course, summer should be hot so we could sunbathe clad in our bikini and brag our tans to our friends. But really, this heat is scorching everyone can pass out because of heat stroke. We’ve had enough of tropical-ness in this tropical country of ours. The heat isn’t
normal. Our little Summer Paradise is just one degree Celsius shy away from Summer Hellhole.
And the rain. How abnormal can our weather be? News flash: Global warming. Bipolar weather leads to bipolar people.
Distractions. A big problem of mine. When I was in school, I can at least write something for my blog once week. But now, there’s just too many interesting stuff to give my attention to, too many movies to watch, too many boys to stalk online. I can’t seem to focus on anything lately. I’d be all interested in one thing, but just one click in New Tab, the former interest will be a lost cause. Even my reading is affected by distractions. I’m still on the third chapter of
Passion, the third novel from the
Fallen Series (Lauren Kate). In normal circumstances, I’d have finished it in a day or two (what with all the sexiness fallen angels exude). Right now I can’t read anything other than Twitter feeds and blog posts and
One Direction video comments. (I’m not a Directioner, I just like
Zayn Malik... but maybe I am).
Broke. Need I say more?
Reflections. Reflecting once in a while is good unless you contemplate the bad ones. Which is precisely my thing. I’ve looked at all the sides but I can’t see the brighter one; it’s always the dark. I love being alone, yes, but my isolation forces me to think about things which aren’t always colorful and about cute kittens and unicorns. It forces me to think ill of myself, and when I get tired of my round of self-pity, I think ill of the people around me. It’s so bad I’m starting to think that if there’s Heaven, I don’t belong there. My reflections cause me to be badly insecure, and my only way to get pass it is to either ridicule myself or think that “others have it worse”, which is
basically thinking ill. I’m such a troubled, distraught kid.
Maybe I can still make this work. It’s all in the mind anyway, and I’m still the pilot with the rustiest and lamest plane ever, with the smallest net worth. But – I can’t believe I’m saying this – I’m really looking forward to the next school year. I guess this is really bad.
Dead Days Are Over
After all the depressing moments and days I had, I still haven’t got an idea why God – or someone – hasn’t invented “Dead Days” yet: days when you can just laze around and nobody will notice you until the next morning comes. Dead days aren’t just the I’m-locking-myself-up-in-my-room-all-day or the don’t-disturb-me-just-call-me-when-needed days. Dead days are those days when you just feel like you’re dead: nobody notices you; you can go around naked and nobody would care; you won’t hear your mother nag or your father pestering you with awkward questions. Dead days are just dead days. After those days, you will be alive again. It’s not like what happened to Jesus Christ when he died, not like resurrecting after the third day. You can choose when your Dead Days would end and when you will rise again.
It’s a cool thing, being able to do that. It’s annoying when your family is in chaos or when you broke up with the one you love, and you feel like you want to die, but you can’t because it’s a sin. When Dead Days are allowed or are invented, you can choose to live or not to live through that horrible day. It’s like committing suicide; the good thing about it is that you won’t really die or suffer from terrible consequences if ever you survived (like trauma or depression or shame). In Dead Days, when you commit suicide, you only die one or two days and you live again the next. You guys get what I mean?
Dead Days will be very helpful during annoying, hurting, awful times – especially to struggling teenagers with their crazy hormones taking over. Most teenagers, when faced with these circumstances, either say, “Life sucks” or say, “I want to die right now”. Teenagers with a positive outlook, on the other hand, has “Everything will get better” as their unfaltering life mantra. But, reality check, it’s safer to say that there are more pessimistic and angry teenagers than the optimistic and happy-like-kittens ones. There are more teenagers who did not have a happy childhood and grew and lived with little source of happiness, than those who had dollhouses and birthday bashes even if they didn’t know who their guests were and cried at the sight of horrible clowns. Don’t believe me? Take a look around a mob full of teenagers. How many of them are happy – and I meant
really happy? Two? Three? How many of them are worried but putting on a happy face? Oh, you don’t know. How would you? They’re faking it. How many of them are all-out, no putting-a-happy-fake-face troubled? What? Almost everyone? See? My rough statistics is almost accurate.
I like it when young people know when they are happy or when they are sad. It’s a good sign that they know how to express themselves and are not faking everything just to look cool or be “in”. I’m not saying that they thrash around and “Avada Kedavra” every living person on their way. I’m just saying that I like people better when they tell you they’re mad or when they have a problem or when they feel shitty and flip you off. At least, that way, you know where you stand and need to stand. It’s less frustrating than when girls give guys subtle hints that only the other side can understand. Being angry is not always being mad… it’s just steaming off all the piled up frustrations. It’s the need to have Dead Days. Tada!
Dead Days, to these angry, troubled, struggling teenagers, are heaven. No pun intended.
If one of their days is like an avalanche full of shit, they can just play the Dead Days card and stop the shits from rolling down and finally burying them. It’s like pulling a lever to close the cell they’re living in. It’s like putting on really big beats and playing loud music till they hear nothing. It’s like becoming a dead fly on the wall – hearing nothing, seeing nothing, caring for nothing. It’s like finally having the opportunity to take a break from all the problems that may shatter them when pushed some more. We all need that break – break from worrying too much about our final grades or about meeting and/or exceeding the monster that is called expectations. It’s a way to stop things from falling apart when their falling apart is never needed by anyone, when putting them back to one piece will take forever.
It’s like giving up but not entirely giving up – just surrendering for one day or two.
But then Dead Days are impossible to ever occur. They can’t be given to us by God or Hades when we feel like we’re being broken down to pieces in an excruciatingly slow process, and the only way to end the agony is by playing dead. I don’t know why that’s the case, but that’s the painful reality of it – life’s messy and never fair… but we never run out of second chances to make it less messy and barely fair. There’s always hope… until we’re dead.
Maybe that’s why there are no Dead Days – because being dead doesn’t necessarily make things better. Dead days just
halt things but
don’t stop it. Just hitting pause on the record player, where eventually, we’d need to push play again… and stop when everything’s over. There’s no stopping, just slowing things down; feeling like a dead person, but needing to wake up again.
Maybe that’s why we only have the bad days, good days, lucky days, red days (for girls), bad hair days, dog days, etc.
Because life is life, and it goes on and on.
Sorry, this is such a pessimistic post.
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
