Monday, November 09, 2009 are you sure you want a piece of me?..

Currently listening to: Piece of Me - Britney Spears

THIS pisses me off.
Oh, and THIS one too.

I mean, like, seriously.
Lay off the obsession
and, please, cut her some slack.

Honestly, though, up until this point I was completely unaware of these following facts:

1) that every entertainment news journalist out there in Australia is a prolific singer, an experienced performer, and an immensely popular artist who has sold millions of records all around the world - and this totally gives them the right to write disrespectful stuff about, oh, like only one of the world's best-selling artists;

2) that absofuckinglutely no other pop star in the world - other than our beloved Britney Spears, of course - has ever mimed to his or her own song in concerts and live shows before. No, not even Ashlee Simpson did it; and

3) that apparently "fans" of any music artist in the world are freely allowed to refund their concert tickets if they feel that their favorite artists are letting them down by not singing the songs they want to hear or not performing stuff they want to see.

I mean, wow.
I must be living under a rock or something all this time, to have been completely oblivious to these things.
So, what year is this again...? *raises eyebrows*

Those journalists must be really, REALLY insightful.
They must know what it feels like to be a pop star that has been through so much pain and struggle.

I mean, like, are they even aware of the fact that they're dissing an international pop icon?

Are their names included on Yahoo!'s most popular search list for four consecutive years? And has any of them been named The World's Most Searched Person by the Guinness Book of World Records?

Have they sold more than 83 million records worldwide?

Did they go through a heavily-publicized meltdown and emerge out of the chaos alive and victorious?

Has any of them ever performed on a hugely-successful world tour, grossing US$74.6 million in its first 48 US shows, with already 87 shows done so far and twelve more to go, in front of thousands of screaming fans?

Do they have their own names carved on a Hollywood Walk of Fame star?

Has any of them become the first female artist to have five #1 studio albums in the United States?

Answer 'yes' to any of the above questions, and we'll talk.
Otherwise, fuck off.

In an ignorant society that feeds its pseudo-happiness upon other people's downfall, shameless dissing can be the greatest form of flattery.

After all, for a typical pop act desperate for fame, bad press is essential. It gives you coverage and puts you on the map. Look at what Madonna used to do. Or what Lady Gaga does now. One has to stand out in order to get noticed. And that is true.

But for a pop icon as well-known and internationally-recognized as Britney, getting savage reviews from heartless, bitter journalists is inevitable. It's true that many people are rooting for her now that she has managed to clean up her act and lead a highly-successful comeback, but just as many people would love to see her fall from grace for the second time, if that's even remotely possible. When you're as big and successful as Britney, every little mistake you make can cause the whole world to go down on you.

Yet many people forget that underneath the make-up, the hair extensions, and the whole Circus-themed camaraderie, she is still a fragile human being.

And there's no way out for her. This is like a two-way dead-end.
If she sings live and doesn't sound good, people will bitch about her vocal pitch and say she's not fit to be a "real singer", whatever that means. If she lipsynchs her songs and puts on a theatrical show, they then say she doesn't put any effort into singing live and therefore is also not fit to be a "real singer", still.

Either way, she'll lose. So what's the bloody point?

So she doesn't sing live, at least not all the time.
So she hasn't reached the physical fitness level she once sustained at her prime.
So she doesn't yell out city names correctly and barely speaks to and interacts with the audience during her shows.

Big deal. Live with it.

Saying that her lipsynching in concerts is previously unheard of is like saying that nobody knows kangaroos live in Australia. Seriously. Like, what's the big deal?

She's barely a woman. She's 28, with two toddlers in tow. She's been through a lot, more than any of us could ever imagine. She had lost all hope, she had hit rock-bottom, she had experienced some of the cruelest, most terrible things. To have experienced all that and be able, still, to embark on a world tour filled with endless top-class performances is already a miracle in itself. Agreed?

Nobody in their right minds would have thought, two years ago, that the erratic, petrol-station-hopping, cigarette-smoking, British-accented Britney Spears would ever be able to record another smash-hit album and do another world tour let alone reclaim her Pop Princess throne, a title that was left unoccupied when she was gone from the music scene.

Did you think she could do it? Heck, even I didn't think she could, and this is coming from an avid fan who has always been endlessly supportive of her decisions, even when she was going through her ugliest, most horrifying days. But she did recover, miraculously so, like a phoenix rising up from the flames. And now she's back on top of her game, better than ever.

This is supposed to be a good thing. And we should all be on her side. After all, she's still one of us. She's just a normal human being trying to give her best for her fans and haters alike.

How would you feel if you were in her shoes?


We just can't leave our superstars alone, now, can we?
We love seeing them fall to pieces just as much as we wanna see them soar.

It's our money we're spending. And it's our idol we're spending it on.
So please, with all due respect, mind your own effin' business and find something a little less exploitative to write about.

So shut your dirty little mouths up. And please leave her alone.

I'll still come to her concert tomorrow, and I'm gonna love every second of it, no matter what.

I love you, Britney

Tuesday, November 03, 2009're my silver lining, covered in gold...

Currently listening to:Breathing Underwater - Marie Digby

.catch the next train home.
City Loop Train, Melbourne, September 2009

It strangely sounds like Mother Nature is wreaking havoc outside my window right now, noisy winds and all, and it scares the hell out of my pathetic little lily-livered self.

Amongst the endless array of hypothetical traits The Good Ol' Creator should have been a tad bit more generous in adding when making yours truly out of His own little brew, I'd say courage is on top of the list, definitely. Maybe it's about time for me to formally acknowledge the fact that I am an absolute fail when it comes to being brave in almost every single applicable situation. I can't even find the strength to slap a passing cockroach with a slipper; no, I'd rather cut myself sore with a nail-clipper instead, thank you very much.

So what makes one think that I can stand fifteen painful minutes of listening to crazy winds banging on my windows with crackling drizzles as the background noise without freaking myself out?
*shivers at the thought*

Thank heavens for window shutters.
At the very least they have spared me the torture of having to visually witness the entire crazy-winds-banging-on-window camaraderie.

And please don't judge me on this one. I know this honest confession doesn't bode well with the social integrity of that squishy piece of flesh between my legs, but oi, what the heck, right? I owe this to myself.

All wimpiness aside (and apparently I am allowed to draw newly-coined words out of thin air now!), I can now merrily tell you that, ta-dah! Summer is here.

And as much as I want to join the melanoma-prone crowd of sunshine lovers who are all gearing up to welcome the sunny days and humid nights, apparently the exact opposite applies in real life.

I have recently found myself guilty of not wanting to move on with my life as a new season rolls by. This is proven by the lingering overabundance of cardigans, jackets, and coats still scattered all around my room, and the pressing urge to always have an extra layer of clothing with me that I still feel nagging on my winter-loving conscience whenever I plan to go out.

I'm not sure if these two trivial facts are in any way relevant to my reluctance towards welcoming summer with open arms; I do know, though, that hotter temperatures will mean longer days, and longer days will probably mean spending more time outdoors, under the baking hotness of good ol' Apollo.

Being such an ungrateful, insecure pussy myself, this smells like a disaster waiting to happen. This is the time of the year when I feel that my insecurity over physical imperfections can be socially justified. It would be sweet to shed off a few kilos in order to look better in those pretty little tanktops and shorts. It would be convenient to have faster metabolism so those post-BBQ fat won't stay in undesirable spots. It certainly would be lovely to have a smooth, flawless complexion. And maybe a slightly lighter hair color tone?

But no, I should stop at that.
Asking for perfection would be pushing the boundaries a little. Or a LOT. You know, the whole preserving-the-normal-distribution-curve deal?

So next time you complain about life not being fair, take some time to stop and think about how boring and uninteresting it would be if every single person around you is skinny, has blond hair and blue eyes, and possesses a complexion so flawless and pretty even flowers will turn around in envy.
Differences are good. Uniformity undermines beauty; without diversity, it would be possible for anyone to stand out. *raises eyebrows*

And the world certainly doesn't need a second Tyra Banks running around promoting self-acceptance and natural beauty while wearing elaborate weaves and make up as thick as a freaking Twilight book half the time.
So I think I'll stick with staying true to my stuck-up, insecure self. I mean, what damage can pale skin and a pair of slanty eyes do?

*insert inappropriate Asian joke here*

...I know, I know.
Sorry if you all just didn't get that.

One's writing finesse tend to get a little rusty after about two months of blogging celibacy. And coherence hasn't exactly been one of my finer qualities all along, so.. your call. *sighs*

Truthfully speaking, I'm still trying to get back on the swing of things.
Thanks to the magical wonders of Twitter, my desire to pour out my disorganized, borderline schizophrenic thoughts into extensive paragraphs has gracelessly fallen down a southern path deeper and longer than the endless escalators at Parliament station. Why waffle when you can bitch your life away in 140 characters, or less?

That might or might not explain the imaginary cobwebs which are hanging, pixelated and virtual, all over this blog's deserted home page. Either that, or maybe your overly-vivid imagination is playing with your spatial sense of existence once again. None of which I give a damn about, honestly.

So, yes.
Welcome back, me.

Now that I've made my point, or NOT, I invite you to simply drag your mouse to that throbbing red square with the cross in its center, then let me do a respectful bow before the curtains are drawn and the lights go out when you make that life-changing click.