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onegirllis · 5 years ago

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Since Life is Strange 2 is finally fully released, I let myself to write a probably not-so-short review of the complete season. The momentum for such a summary is already gone I presume but it took me a moment to finally digest and find the proper words to describe what I think and feel about this production. Following the game from the start, I patiently waited to look at the story as a whole, hoping to find an explanation for tons of burning questions and satisfying outcomes to my choices and decisions. Unfortunately, most of those didn’t happen, therefore I present you with a piece that is not very favorable towards the newest Dontnod production, harsh in places but honest. Please, do not read if you really enjoyed the story of the two brothers and find it meaningful and important, not burdened with any fallacy. Life is way too short to read reviews that just leave you frustrated.

Remember the scene in Life is Strange season one (I still hate the fact that I have to separate different instances of the franchise calling them seasons), when Max summoned by an enormous plasma TV in Victoria’s room fantasizes about watching “Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within” on it? “I like this movie, I don’t care what everybody says,” getting protective about her preferences, the little freckle leaves the room soon after, never gifting us with any explanation as to why she indeed values this animation so much or why it was an important statement. It was never brought back again, it will never matter, becoming simply a meme material or a trigger for snarky comments from Twitch streamers and YouTubers. I watched the said movie a long time ago, recalling only two things about it: the breathtaking animation of hair at the beginning and the fact that the main male character looked like Ben Affleck. The rest of the story fell into obscurity before the end credits hit the screen. I reached for this title only because I was interested in anything video games related, and the name of the popular franchise was more than enough.

The same thing goes for Life is Strange 2.

Just like the mentioned FF: The Spirits Within, the second instance of the beloved series is more of an animation than an interactive experience. Recently, plenty of video games, overwhelmed by finally reachable technology of smooth mocaps, facial expressions, hyper-realistic locations, and scanned people as characters, turned into an alley dedicated to B-class movies. From adventures by David Cage to Death Stranding, video games started to flip their working template, replacing the actual action with long animations, not the other way around. With scattered gameplay, sometimes forced as if the developers reminded themselves at the last minute that this product is supposed to be interactive, they raise an eyebrow at best, and boil your blood with the lack of creativity at its worst. Life Is Strange 2 follows this trend with astonishing enthusiasm and to the core. Even regarding this particular genre that’s supposed to focus on narrative, it barely stands as a walking simulator becoming a hardly watchable TV series — a road trip story where walking is limited.

Well, shit.

The gameplay in Life is Strange 2 is nonexistent. To be frank, riveting action-packed sequences were never a trademark of the series, but a blatant lack of any didn’t make this experience any better. With the first one, the rewind power allowed the player to actually be part of the narrative. The second, where Sean just serves as a witness to his brother’s actions, plays more like a full motion picture. An enormous amount of un-skippable cut-scenes change LIS2 into a tedious, dragging journey straight from the worst selection of buy 1 get 3 free Z-class movies. The music and the mastery in creating an atmosphere that rose Dontnod to international fame due to widespread acclaim can’t save those sequences either. It almost feels like their own creation so enchanted the development team that they ignored all the red flags and clumsy solutions to immerse in the world themselves, treating the actual player as a lesser evil, throwing them a bone just to claim it is a video game format. To no surprise, most of the items the player interacts with don’t matter at all and don’t serve any purpose either to foreshadow an upcoming outcome, present exposition to the world, or be in any way helpful.

The lack of superpower is not an issue here though. Before the Storm met the expectations with way more grace, proving that a story doesn’t need a lot of strange in life to grip and hold its audience for hours. Watching a superhero growing up is an interesting premise, but a hell of a challenge to execute and execute well. Some stories like “Little Man Tate” translate to a brilliant film, but don’t necessarily work as games, after the planning stage or first Game Design Document. The references regarding the first game also remain scattered and uneven, tossed on the pile with a heap of faith that devoted fans would notice, but without a purpose in mind.

Even if I sound harsh, I do believe that Dontnod wanted to deliver the best story possible, but Life is Strange 2 feels even too big to absorb or fill with details. Captain Spirit, not necessarily my cup of tea either, was in my opinion way more coherent, as the creative team felt more comfortable with such a small scope of a product. Everything falls into place after careful exploration, makes more sense with every minute. The mystery about the mother, an alumnus of Blackwell Academy, and an admirer of Jefferson’s work is a solid premise that didn’t raise expectations up the roof nor overpromise. The mystery of yet another mother, this time Life is Strange 2, played for over 3 and a half episodes, falls flat in comparison and ends in the disappointing question “that’s it?”

No, that’s not it. There’s more to it.

Life is Strange 1 was mocked as Tumblr: The Game, while the second instance could easily pass as Twitter: The Animated Series. The writers didn’t challenge themselves or the audience to answer the question of why certain people voted for Donald Trump, or why they would do it yet again. The only reason presented in the story is quite simplistic and obvious – because they are evil, deplorable people, not worth listening to. They are the worst. We are better. Issues of being harangued by foreigners about domestic policies and troubles of your own country are a brewing can of worms I wouldn’t like to touch at the moment. Still, this particular stance, which serves as painful generalization that every single republican voter in the US is foul, can be forged only by someone who either lives in a bubble or doesn’t live here at all. Simply because we all have parents, grandparents, relatives, friends, or co-workers who decided to elect the actual prescient to power. Some of them are racists, disgusting, and horrible personas, and some just belong to the scared of change, confused and manipulated crowd that don’t accept the fast-paced transformation nor the need for a revolution. We coexist together, arguing and fighting, especially during holiday breaks, but even if it costs me a headache, I wouldn’t call them evil. Millions of people voted for Trump, but only a few wouldn’t spit on a swastika if confronted with the Nazi banner.

It’s even more painful when you understand what kind of message was sewed into the stitches of a shattered story. There was no ill will, or at least I don’t think so, but an honest, genuine need to express the concern about modern America. Unfortunately, when executed, this concern changed into another yell or discourse by the family table during an argument with your racist uncle. An open discussion in a game community that unifies both left and right supporters equally by their love for this form of entertainment would be appreciated by many, just like after playing LIS1, a handful of people changed their views on LGBT issues.

Instead of a lesson that had to be experienced, we got a lecture about morality and tolerance, contradicting itself constantly and nonchalantly following the well-known tropes NOT in a sarcastic and admirable way known from Saturday Night Live, but in a lazy and sometimes even clumsy substitute of a dramatic format. The political landscape painted in LIS2 is caricatural, unforgiving, harsh like a deserted wasteland with a few peaceful oases to stop at, but shies over its own existence, not willing to thoroughly discuss the dreadful weather. Guess what? The sand won’t change into greener pastures only because you close your eyes, putting your imagination to work. Donald Trump might not be re-elected for a second term, but his supporters will stay in place, even more conflicted by the other side. It’s a brave decision to deliver such a punitive story but such a cowardice to break its pillars, hoping that the general public wouldn’t notice or get distracted when things get too heated up.

The lack of subtlety forced scene by scene is even more polarizing. There is no peaceful dialogue with the other side as if it couldn’t exist in this world. There is no change of heart or a path to do so. Sometimes it feels like the only message that LIS2 writers wanted to provide was to find your own, peaceful and liberal hermitage, either among hipsters in the Redwood forest, driving a car that your ‘family with money but no soul’ had bought you or move to a trailer park filled with artistic souls in Nowhere, Arizona. Any contact with the outside world can hurt you and your feelings. Drop off the grid or die. The end.

No discussion.

The efforts of trying to understand the motivation behind even the most dreadful character of the first game, got lost in preparation for the second. LIS2 builds a higher wall between two political sides, than any other game released after Trump became the president of the United States and desperately wants to keep it erected, ignoring the crumbling foundations of such. A proverbial river you shall not cross nor build bridges over since the only outcome would end up in death, destruction, or you and your young brother getting hurt.

I’m familiar with the discussion about LIS2, especially with a shouting match that if you do not like this instance, you are therefore a racist pig, a disgusting person without a soul, conscience, or working brain that doesn’t understand the situation and never will. On the contrary. In my humble opinion, we deserve a better discussion, better stories, better representation, not sticking to whatever is presented because it’s brave enough or was never approached before. I disagree with the stance that a Latino, bisexual main character is enough to close your eyes, omitting all problems that this title tries to shun, riding its high horse. No. Those topics are way too crucial to just walk past, setting for less with your head down, thanking for the game industry to take notice. You the player deserve better, even if you don’t struggle with specific issues on a daily basis. And after playing LIS2, you may feel so good about yourself, stating that an effort was made but it it wasn’t made enough.

I expected more. I wanted Dontnod to do more, and frankly, I feel silly putting so much faith in them and supporting their efforts. Armed with resources provided by Square Enix, I’m sure they are aware of the fact that most of their audience is quite young and wouldn’t mind a lesson or message about what to do amidst troubled times. Well, Dontnod doesn’t have any but warns you that voicing your opinion or being different may end up in disaster. Outraged, they just yell at the news, angry about what our reality has changed into, but nothing comes out of it. It’s all right, though. Our parents do the same thing. We started to do the same thing, but instead of complaining to family members, we have Twitter.

While Life is Strange 2 tries really hard to come across as a realistic and raw portrait of the US at the end of the decade, they didn’t have enough courage to show realistic obstacles two runaways would be faced with. The brothers do meet a handful of bigots and racists, but the rest of the fellow travelers help them beyond understanding or hidden agenda. Sean and Daniel never really struggle to find a place to stay or a warm meal, usually complaining on or off the screen just before the game mercifully provides them with a solution. There’s no trap they can fall into, no ambiguous characters that promise one thing and then demand something in return. It’s very honorable for Brody to pay for a place to stay, but if an adult man gave young kids a key to a motel room, I would consider a way more sinister outcome. It’s not even about Brody himself, since good people exist, just like the racist ones, but the boys not even once are put in a realistic, scary situation created by a supposed ally. If somebody is helpful, this person is always decent, offering them a job, a ride, some food or money. The bad people wear red hats and yell racist slurs. America by Dontnod is simple to navigate but raw and painful when not necessary and fairy-tale-like when it could teach an actual lesson. Running away from home is not so hazardous because of Trump supporters but because you can end up dead in a ravine, being robbed and raped. It’s not the first and surely not the last time when the developers feared to touch any topic of sexual abuse with a ten-foot pole, but then the journey plays more like a vacation than a desperate escape. Sean gets beaten-up a few times, loses his eye due to a brawl, but it doesn’t affect him at all in the long run. When Daniel finally gets kidnapped, it’s not an Epstein-like circle, dealing with human trafficking, but a religious cult that worships him. The first option, even if it feels like a stretch, is unfortunately way more realistic than the latter.

Preaching to the choir is not the biggest sin this game commits though. That brings me to the most discussed theme of the production, which is education.

With all due respect to the developers, writers, and designers, Life is Strange 2 in this aspect falls flat as a discovery of a Sunday father, who is responsible for taking his kid to the zoo and struggles to find any common ground with his offspring, either trying to crack jokes about famous pop-culture phenomena or talk about food discussing their next favorite meal. The said father is trying his best though, perfectly aware that it’s his only chance to teach his son a thing or two, but doesn’t know exactly where to start, torn apart between buying more ice cream and throwing a fit about a stain on the carpet. The father doesn’t even like kids that much and can’t translate his lessons into an engaging play that would be memorized forever, rolling his eyes and counting the days to his kid’s graduation so they could share a beer or two and talk about adult things. Now, any effort to explain how the world works seems to be in vain, therefore a waste of his precious time. Leaving the emotional approach aside, the father doesn’t have to cuddle with his kid when he’s scared, bullied, traumatized or asks millions of questions about the future or present, because the full-time mother is waiting at home willing to replace him in this duty. The mother, knowing that her ex-partner sucks big time at talking about feelings, will be the one who will hold the kid, patiently explaining that the boogieman does not exist, playing pirates, or stay late at night to distract his sorrows. The kid will never discuss his fears with his dad though, trying so hard to impress his male parent. He will never know, and it’s fine. The mother is going to do the job while he can deliver a once a week entertainment along with the lines of ultimate wisdom that most likely will be forgotten anyway.

This is not raising a kid, it’s nursing them like a fragile plant in a flowerpot, focusing on water, sun, and fertilizer, but discarding the emotional background, hoping that somebody else would take care of such issues if things go south.

Sean can’t raise his brother well, simply because he is immature and will stay immature for the rest of the game. There is no moment when he truly goes through a transformation changing from a boy to a man, a fully grown-up adult who takes responsibility for his actions and makes sacrifices for the sake of the greater good. No, surrendering in a fight in the church doesn’t serve as one, neither does the first sexual experience. He doesn’t wonder even once if the hastily constructed plan is benefiting Daniel, forcing it to the last minutes of the game, taking the separation as the worst thing that could happen. There’s no spark of a tragedy like in “The Road” when a father gives up his son to strangers for the sake of saving him. Sean doesn’t care, presenting no character development across the board, merely pushing forward. If there are doubts, they disappear in the blink of an eye when the next cut-scene takes place.

I understand that such a young lad as Sean wouldn’t know how to raise a kid, especially if having no model to rely on. However, a part of growing pains is developing the awareness that we know way less than we assumed. That said, Sean Diaz is always assuming he is right, not asking for advice regarding Daniel even once. Apparently, it’s not something that he’s interested in or ever will be. If Life is Strange 2 wants to pass as a coming of age story, it falls on its face before it even starts.

Moreover, locked in the auto-driven plot, Sean cannot grow up and gain a new perspective; otherwise, the story wouldn’t reach its big, explosion-packed finale of crossing the border. His desperate efforts of influencing his brother usually converge to order him around, feed him with half-truths or simply leave him in the dark when convenient. I didn’t see any difference or change in Sean’s approach from episode one when he scolded his brother, annoyed for his party plans being interrupted, and in episode three, when he reacts similarly, for the sake of spending time alone with the chosen love interest. There’s no deep thought, no wonder about his own wrongdoings expressed to his brother, no faults admitted, no fallacies explained, with one life-threating situation after another. From an illegal weed growing farm, to destroying police stations, Sean just follows the road, paved by the writers, oblivious to the harm done to his younger sibling, as if Daniel simply forgets the morally gray choices, growing his moral spine entirely on performing chores. Washing the dishes and peeling potatoes does not make us better people but understanding a perspective so different than our own does. Thanks to Sean, Daniel expands his world, but it’s a very one-sided perspective, focusing on always praised, hippie-style liberties, and disregarding every option that requires any code of conduct, as represented by the grandparents. While the older brother forces the younger one to keep up with the designed tasks, he never discusses the issues that really matter. In episode 3, the youngster gets involved in a heist, a robbery, but after it fails, costing Sean his eye and the possible death of some of their companions, this is never mentioned. Mexico, a plan that is hardly a plan at all, is supposed to be an answer to all the questions and doubts. El Dorado of knowledge.

This is not how you raise a dog, not to mention a child.

There is no emotional bond, no special ties between the brothers, except a few problematic moments that play mostly on simple connection forged by blood, not by circumstances. Sean worries about Daniel because he’s his brother, but the player starts to wonder quite quickly why and what for. Reminiscing about old times gets nailed down to a few lines about the comforts and amenities of a life long gone. The tough topics, such as grieving after personally witnessing their father’s death, are mentioned scarcely and without much emphasis, as if serving only as a reminder to the player, but not a poignant struggle. Same goes with the dog, their friends mutilated at the end of the weed farm chapter, Chris (aka captain spirit) who is mentioned just before the end credits of the second episode, and tons of others. On top of it, the scattered and not so often dialogue lines about putting people in danger refer only to the good folk, siding with the brothers, not to humankind in general. Killing a police officer or knocking down a gas station owner are just natural ways of how things work in America, honorable deeds since it’s apparently perfectly fine for a kid to attempt a homicide if people are mean.

What a brave story.

Chloe Price had been suffering for five years after William, her beloved father, died in a car crash. For Sean and Daniel, there is no grief to experience, but a memory to share with a plan to erect a monument in the future. Esteban Diaz is a plot device, a symbol of inequality, but not a family member. Even a dream sequence with his guest appearance lacks the impact of the subconscious conversations we’ve seen in Before the Storm. It just simply doesn’t matter.

I can’t believe I have to say this but the relatable part about LIS1 wasn’t the tornado, just like in LIS2 crossing the border is its weakest point, but it’s those small moments, gestures, quick smiles in passing, the atmosphere and a breath of fresh air when a line, sometimes silly, got dropped. In the most recent story, there is not a single line worth quoting, memorizing, or discussing. And please, don’t bring up “awesome possum” again. It’s literally taken from The Lego Movie song.

The brothers, just like Thelma and Louise, decide to leave everything behind, throwing away the life as they knew it and forging their own future despite all odds. Although, when the two desperate women drive off the cliff committing suicide, chased by the armed forces, there is nothing to explain as the audience fully understands their reasoning. Their will of life was strong, but the path they followed was too steep to return. Without any help or support, confronted with brutal honesty and the world’s cruelty around them, it is the best possible solution. The story of the two brothers, even if it tries to echo the iconic movie, couldn’t be more different. Despite resources at their disposal, family members that do care about their wellbeing, the whole community rising in protest in their hometown, they risk everything for the sake of getting back to the land they don’t even know. Their Mexican heritage is also mentioned just as an exposition, and, as we learn in the very last episode, just before the ending that Daniel doesn’t speak Spanish. So why do the stubborn Diaz brothers despite all odds travel to Mexico? Because.

Canada was too close, I guess.

Last but not least, let’s talk about sex, because why the hell not. A lot of fans or admirers of the previous instances howled across all social media about how much they miss Max and Chloe. I don’t really think it’s the case, but those two girls symbolize something that LIS2 has a tremendous problem with. There’s no emotional connection between the characters the brothers meet along the way, especially the ones that really should matter. Even the love interests feel more like nagging choices than anything else, an experiment during a camping trip, not something that would last or could be fantasized about. Instead of nerve-wracking decisions such as if you’re supposed to kiss Rachel, hold her hand, or the ecstatic discovery (for PriceFielders, but it was ecstatic, right?) that Chloe changed her phone’s background, we are instead presented with a lineup of sexual experiences, that maybe trail-blaze the road when it comes to topics tackled by a video game, but fall into obscurity as an emotional construction. There is no build-up between Sean and Finn as everything develops to a kiss in one conversation, and Cassidy has fewer lines than Victoria Chase before she invites Sean to her tent. We watch it as we watched it before, trying to get attached, feel something, but the only thing we remember was how much it touched us years ago when we played a different game but with a similar title. The sex scene, relatable or not, is stripped from the emotional intimacy and is as sensitively challenging as a dog being killed.

Character development doesn’t move an inch even if Sean, a surrogate father to his brother, lost his virginity to an older girl. There’s no single thought in his head that he might conceive his own offspring during this short but probably memorable experience. There’s not a single line except for the satisfaction of some female parts finally discovered. Oh, dashing explorer, will you ever learn?

It’s sad. I did want to like this game and gave it plenty of chances like no other titles ever. I’ve made excuses for the poor execution, technical problems, with the whiny voice acting that was driving me up the wall, plot twists written (I think) on a lunch break, and so on, but I couldn’t stand it. It’s a hard pass when it comes to a video game in general, not to mention the story, script, and everything else. Life is Strange season one; a low-budget production, was the first step to create a masterpiece that LIS2 might’ve been able to become. The second season didn’t learn much from LIS1’s mistakes, additionally exchanging the well-known beauty for a garbage fire, ignoring all the warning signs along the way. Delivering a story that tackles such important topics, it slides between the checkmarks on the board of issues, mentioning conversion therapy, religion, gayness, illegal immigration, and a spiral of crimes but never elaborating on any of them. There is no meat and potatoes presented on the plate of events, but just a sticky, sweet gravy with nothing underneath that leaves you not only hungry but frustrated, willing to call the chef and yell at the waiter. The trick is that unless you were living under a rock, there are tons of other productions in different media that give those themes justice, carefully unfolding all the aspects, giving voice to both sides. The fact that it’s the first video game having an affair with serious issues doesn’t matter. I don’t believe that anybody who consumes any kind of other media like decent books, movies, or TV shows can remain blind to the problems of Life is Strange 2, claiming it to be a good story. It’s not.

So here we are, girls, boys, and beyond. Life is Strange 2 with its broken mechanics, story, characters, and spirit slowly but surely will be forgotten. It’s Dontnod’s Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within that you might love to watch or play on your brand-new TV, despite what everybody else would say, omitting any valid or invalid criticism, but unfortunately, it won’t change the general optics about this particular piece of media. A lost chance or recklessness created a convoluted mess and with a heart beating in the wrong place. You might praise Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within, get excited about it since it’s a free world, free country (and even if it’s not, no one will take this ersatz of such liberty) and don’t let anybody tell you what to love. The problem is, that most likely the only thing that people will remember about this production is that the main male character looked like Ben Affleck and the hair animation was dope. Everything else won’t matter.

The same thing goes, unfortunately, for Life is Strange 2, subtitle: The Spirits Without.

#life is strange 2 #review #honest #dontnod #square enix

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angeltriestoblog · 5 years ago

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I Miss 5 Seconds of Summer???

A few days after 5 Seconds of Summer held their concert in the Philippines last 2016, I wrote a blog post with this exact same title then went on to elaborate that I missed the version of them that I fell in love with. I’ve unarchived it so anyone who bothers to read this has a salient starting point, but be warned: I seriously can’t make it through the entire thing without suffering from a chronic cringe attack—who ever told 16-year-old me that she could write?!

—

I have listened to 5SOS’ entire discography almost exclusively today. But my Spotify followers wouldn’t know. In an expert attempt to evade their judgment, I go on Private Mode so I can cry to their music in peace. I’ve also been watching a couple of their videos too. My favorite is this live performance of Ghost of You where Calum Hood does some immaculate vocal blending at the 1:26 mark. I have my watch history paused though so I don’t get bombarded with more recommendations and end up spiraling further down the hole.

It’s funny how I think that removing every trace of related activity on my corner of the Internet could also erase it from my own memory, render it as a mere figment of my imagination instead of a clear manifestation that I’m starting to like them again. And it might seem even funnier that I am convinced that people care! But then again, I did unstan them pretty publicly a few years back following a misogynistic interview they did for an issue of Rolling Stone, which also featured all four of them almost fully nude on the cover.

To this day, I continue to dissect the piece with one part of me thinking that I might have overreacted, having seen and read it for the first time when I was 14 and much more of a prude, and the other knowing that I did not. In one paragraph, Luke Hemmings admits that during the early years of the band, they took advantage of the amount of female attention they were at the center of. “They were wildest on their early tours, when they’d go to bars to mingle with fans after shows,” it read.

In another, Hood talks quite nonchalantly about his infamous dick pic that made its rounds on the Internet the year before, and how it surprisingly gave the band a lot of publicity. “Now I’m just working on the sex tape,” he jokes. “I’ll call Pamela up, like, ‘Hey, it’s been a while. We really need to hype this band up!’”

Having risen to fame as the opening act of the clean-cut British-Irish group One Direction, 5SOS was immediately touted as a boyband—next in line to 1D’s throne, or competing with them for the crown, depends on which magazine you read. Though this exposure granted them a huge teenage fanbase (myself included), they hated the label that came with it. They constantly asserted that they played their own instruments and wrote their own songs, and behaved in a way that well-curated, expertly marketed groups would not: carefree, loud, playfully and forgivably naughty. No one would believe them though. People would say it’s the curse of being conventionally attractive in the music industry. You were almost always expected to be a popstar, a commodity that catered to the masses. But they tried anyway: maybe a lip ring and a couple of tattoos would do the trick, sprinkle some curse words here and there in interviews, get caught smoking or drinking.

That interview was their final act: their big-time effort to break away and hopefully land a spot amongst the rock bands they looked up to and wanted so desperately to impress. Even if it meant objectifying, mocking, and taking advantage of the girls who propelled them to stardom in the first place. Simply put, that interview was them desperately trying to get rid of fans like me. And so, I obliged.

—

Now that I’ve been staying at home for almost three months straight, I have revisited a lot of old favorites: poorly written fan fiction I used to eat up in my early teenage years, full seasons of Nickelodeon TV shows (only the good ones) downloaded off sketchy places on the Internet, my childhood journals filled with my loopy handwriting and family of stick figures. I know I’m not alone in this pursuit: it seems like we’re all holding on to remnants of our past to remind us that we have experienced better days, and they will surely come again soon.

I felt like it was inevitable I’d return to 5SOS because they had released their fourth full-length album during the first few weeks of the quarantine. Everywhere on social media, I was reminded that one single was out, and then another, and then another and I figured that it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. After all, I did give Youngblood, their third record, a spin when it first came out as well. I thought their attempts at experimentation bordered on pretentiousness, and figured that if this was the musical direction they wanted to take, I’d surely hate every succeeding record as well.

But the problem was I really liked it. Although it wasn’t a no-skip album, each track was different from the rest, all showing a level of inventiveness and mastery of musical technique not present in previous releases. After playing the entire thing again and again, even the songs I didn’t vibe with at first started to grow on me. Turns out the beauty of Easier and Teeth is in the details: the thrumming bass at the beginning, the unconventional vocal inflections, best appreciated in an enclosed area with the volume on high. My amazement at how their musical style had progressed over the years led to me listening to all of their albums in chronological order, then rewatching some of their funniest interviews which were alarmingly easy to retrieve from memory.

During these times, I’ve wondered why I still remain curious about what they’re doing, why I still give their music a shot when I see it on my Release Radar. They never apologized for the article and I assume that they talk about things of that sort even more now that they’re older.

And I guess the answer is simple. Besides the fact that the music is honest to God amazing, they kind of made me who I am. Having found them during the height of my teen angst phase, I reveled in having idols who were open about rebelling against the system and forging our own paths despite being looked down on by those older than us. It was through them that I was introduced to bands that further diversified my taste in music, that I started experimenting with a more introspective type of writing that led to the style I employ to this day. I made so many good friends because of them, some of which are still in my life today. Looking back, I wouldn’t consider it the best version of myself but she was different. More importantly, she was really happy.

—

I am well-versed in the discourse surrounding problematic faves, and I know that if I ever find myself in such a situation, I have two options: either go down the productive, politically correct road and steer clear from them, or continue to consume their work but with the knowledge that what they did was inexcusable. I teeter between boycotting their music altogether—because even Spotify streams can be translated into revenue and there’s nothing that powers oppressors like financial stability and fame—and choosing to separate the art from the artist so I can appreciate good work without the reputation of its creator clouding my judgment.

I guess at this point, I probably am looking at them with rose-tinted glasses. I heard that some victims of even the most abusive and toxic relationships look back at their time with their former significant others with fondness. Though what I had with Calum, Ashton, Luke, and Michael was nowhere near romantic, and their transgressions far from a personal attack, maybe it applies to my situation too. I look at 5SOS now through the lens of the 14-year-old who embedded watching Keeks into her daily routine, or fell asleep listening to Heartbreak Girl on repeat and rejoiced when it hit 1,000 plays on her iTunes. They are no longer that band, and I am no longer that girl. And while it doesn’t hurt to remember the times when we were those people, I must remind myself that things can never go back to the way they were.

Maybe this doesn’t have to be as dramatic as I’m making it. But that’s the good thing about keeping this blog despite getting published on other corners of the Internet—I can make it as dramatic as I want to be.

#quarantingz #personal #angeltriestoblog #5 seconds of summer #yas we back with the personal essays babey!!!#kasalanan to ng ghost of you #this blog aint dying

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enfeder-blog · 8 years ago

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Service Journal: Final Reflection

My experience at the ILC had not enlightened me, or changed my opinions on anything regarding the treatment of refugees, but it had confirmed and strengthened my beliefs significantly.

There’ve been a lot of words that we’d touched on over and over again during the actual Service Learning course at MIAD. Words like oppression, power, establishment, supremacy, privilege. I felt and still feel like a lot of these words are making mountains out of molehills, and I think a dose of perspective is needed for a lot of the people that overuse these words. A lot of people need to stop and realize that oppression - real oppression, still exists in the world, and it’s far worse than the often touted, watered-down ‘oppression’ that’s used in conversations about the guy that made you feel uncomfortable on the bus.

These refugees have been oppressed and terrorized in their lifetimes, and find solace in this country- one that does not and never will speak their language, and does not and never will cater to their culture. These are the most disadvantaged people in America. Most don’t know basic English, most don’t understand our systems for math, and none of them have any substantial amount of wealth. If anyone’s oppressed in the USA, its these guys, and yet, they take it all with such good humor. They’re all very happy despite how the odds are stacked against them.

To them, the odds aren’t stacked against them, however. The odds are in their favor, considering where they were. Myanmar is still unstable after years of civil war, and, as has been explained to me, Somalian culture normalizes whipping women and children as punishment for even the smallest offenses. Images of the backs of Somalian women are eerily reminiscent of those of lacerated backs of African-American slaves. All of my students were lucky enough to have escaped this. Back home, that was the oppression, there was the fear. In America, despite how apathetic the majority of the population is to their fate, they aren’t getting caught up in gunfire, and they aren’t being disciplined by whip-end.

I’ll never understand their home lives. I’ll likely never know how many times they’ve been refused service, called names, harassed or worse. It could be zero, it could be a million. Regardless of that, in class, they’re always grateful for their opportunities, for their education, even for staying alive. They’re the most generous, humble, driven students I’ve ever encountered. I can’t prove anything, but I’m willing to wager that their experiences with true suffering, true oppression, and true helplessness germinate this kind of appreciation. We are the richest country in the world after all, and despite the country’s issues, the refugees realize how much worse a human life can get.

I have nothing but good notes on the ILC. It’s clean, its well-funded, the staff are kind and helpful, the teachers are devoted despite the stresses, the students are eager and I’ve seen more than one successfully land a job and ‘graduate’. The teachers know how to slowly build student’s vocabularies, and despite being just established, many of the students know math well enough to apply it into their everyday lives. I, a person with no ESL experience, was able to have a conversation with most everybody in the room (though some were harder than others). My only real critique is that there aren’t even more students and teachers. I’ve heard they’re expanding a little bit, which is good news, because there are still refugees out in Milwaukee that can’t afford any education other than this government-funded lottery-system. But, without a doubt, every student that enters that place is better off when they leave it. I’m glad that our city supports this program, and I hope it will survive the coming years.

As for my questions that I laid out in the beginning, I’m unable to answer a few of them. I figured that I’d learn more about US citizenship and the legal process of offering asylum, but neither of the teachers really understood any of that. Language was generally their wheelhouse and I never talked to anyone else in the building about these issues besides my two teachers.

As for ‘shedding light on recent immigration’, I think the major problem lies in our apathy, as opposed to our hate. I’ve never met an honest-to-god islamaphobe, but I’d implore one to hang out with a Muslim or two. Go into a local grocery store or a gas station or the ILC and just talk to one. Talk to them about anything other than their heritage. Talk about computers, talk about art, talk about food, talk about the economy, talk about the weather, talk about jobs, talk about life. That’s what I did with my students, are the more we talked, the less different their lives seemed to mine. The students liked tattoos, they liked science programs, they liked Monster energy drinks. These things weren’t available to them back home, but in the US, just through osmosis, they’ve begun to live just like the rest of us -same problems, same joys, same fears, same dreams. Most every student in that class is a devout Muslim, they wear the clothes and pray the prayers and eat the cuisines and recite the scriptures, and I can tell from experience, they are just like me. They laughed the same, they smiled the same, they looked the same, they learned the same, the ate the same, they lived the same. If more people understood it -truly understood it, I don’t think we’d ever be refusing refugees, or blocking legal immigration, despite the inherent dangers of it. It’s not that people are afraid of these refugees or Muslims, really, but that they can’t muster up the sympathy for anyone outside of this country. Its not that people hate them, its that they can’t find time to care. If they were in my shoes, I think those people might find it a lot easier to do just that.

As I walked out on my last day, I noticed some signs propped up in the art room window. They were crudely cut cardboard rectangles, with loosely painted words on the front. One sign simply read ‘BLACK LIVE MATTER’ (sic), while the other boasted ‘EVERY LIFE MATTERS’. I thought about how this would be taken back at MIAD - back at the bastion of liberal-progressive platitudes. I thought about if anyone might get angry at the statement ‘Black Live Matter’ or god forbid ‘Every Life Matters’. I thought about how anyone in their right mind can disagree with either of these statements, and yet I know of plenty who would. Would this get taken down, like the MIAD posters that gave advice on how to avoid date rape? Because back then, I figured that nobody could be angry at a poster expressly trying to curb the numbers of rape and assault victims on college campuses, but I was wrong. I thought of how quickly an ‘Every Life Matters’ sign would be taken down by mass appeal, the ensuing arguments, the censorship claims, the extra-length Facebook posts, and the incessant whining that would inevitably take place on every side of the issue. I thought about how something as innocent as ‘Black Lives Matter’ or ‘Every Life Matters’ could stir anger in anyone, let alone a place full of hyper-strange, anti-Puritan proudly psuedo-marxist adult artists and designers. Both of these phrases seem to be go-to’s for the tolerant, and yet, for most, one of these two phrases is going to irk them.

Yet in the ILC, a place more concerned with the well-being of the disadvantaged that practically anywhere, including MIAD, both of these signs, both of these messages occupied the same window space, and were made by the same class of refugees - people who really saw oppression and madness and escaped. These people have faced turbulence unlike any you or I likely will in our lives. Perched on the windowsill of the downtrodden is concise, peaceful discourse - one stage occupied by opposite ideals. Perhaps we truly have gotten too comfy in our luxurious American lives. Perhaps we’ve been led astray from true connectivity. Perhaps we’ve been spending too much time in our social media echo-bubbles. Perhaps the refugees are the only ones smart enough to realize how to live amongst differences anymore. Perhaps it’s them who ought to be helping us.

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