Hesitant to go Ga-ga

Someone has to convince me about Lady Gaga. And that person must consider that I am not a hater. There are several things I do not understand about her and her reputation as an artist. She’s a performer, yes, no doubt, her antics, I learned are a cross between Showgirls and Kiss.  I’ve read several articles about Lady Gaga and have visited her official website but none enlightened me on what the hype is all about.

First, I heard her song, Poker Face, sung, unfortunately, by my cousin Suzette at a local event. The tune was catchy enough, and I sort of realized that my playlist has not been updated in more than a year. Gasp! The second time I heard about her was during a conversation with friends where they raved about her music. Since I have a decent regard for my friends’ preferences, I sort of assumed that she must be really big.

However, I had difficulty placing Poker Face in my list of knock-off tunes. And she was perceived to be a knock-off artist. This list is populated by Jewel, Radiohead, Bjork, U2, Jeff Buckley, Queen, Led Zeppelin and Britney Spears, among others. I am currently reviewing nominations to the list for Fergie, Richard Cheese, Lilly Allen and Taylor Swift.

Her music feels flat. I am frequently hearing Paparazzi, and the impression on me is the same. Her words are simple and she repeats a syllable and turns it into the whole point of the song. Po-po-po-popopopo…I can not go on.

Lastly, her publicity photos are not very exciting; there something missing. I don’t know, I can’t see the ooomph everyone else sees.

Lessons from water under the bridge

Here are a few lessons I’ve learned from a not-much-of-an-affair affair.

Coincidentally, I’ve just seen ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’ yesterday, a first, since I failed to catch it on its theatrical release early this year. I’ve read the book but wasn’t able to absorb much of it because half my brain was debating whether it is all BS.

Also, a friend of mine is presently entangling herself in a web of confusion and, I hope I’m wrong, desperation, misinterpreted as Love.

As my favorite videoke song goes ‘players only love you when they’re playing’. Fleetwood Mac could not have been more correct. Players prey on hot playful well-meaning persons. It’s not our fault we’re hot, or at the very least, well-meaning.

Well-meaning to our personal interests, that is; we all want to be desired.

No is easier than Yes. No is a single syllable, two letter word which requires less effort to utter. The seemingly eternal wonderment of what might have been will wear off after some time.

Like everything else, it too shall pass. Nostalgia will strike once in a while, but so does embarrassing childhood memories, right?

Even persons deprived of romantic admiration can stop clamoring for love too. I grew up hardly turning heads and hearts; the eventual attention and admiration caused me inner hysteria.

Cleverly, I put out the hysteria by reminding myself that I have been invisible, and anyone who has seen through my invisibility is a gem.

Lastly, everything else that tries to come between you and your peace of mind, loved one or goal, subconsciously or otherwise, is just water under the bridge, an obstacle in a track and field lap, or a ring of fire in a circus show. It poses severe excitement but can be overcome.