Daggers and Cycles and I Don’t Wanna Think of a Title

(Disclaimer: This is a bit dark, once again. But a high school literature teacher would have an orgasm with the number of ways you could interpret this sad sad metaphor)

She knocks on your door. She is respectably clad. Not exactly how you’d imagine someone who prances around with a dagger to look like, but rather, like an esteemed swindler or a medical representative who’d readily fool you into thinking they’re well off. Cunning, deceiving but with a very warm smile that would make you mindlessly throw away your hard earned cash and fall into her well-rehearsed sales talk.

To match her reputable attire, she flaunts this mesmeric attitude that will, in an instant, make you feel at home in her presence. But just as you turn around, perhaps to relieve yourself in the comfort room or to grab a bag of peanuts, she brings out this knife; it’s rusty and timeworn. It doesn’t look like it could kill. At all.

It’s not sharp anyway. What’s to fear?

And besides, there’s nothing to tremble about. It’s not like you know about that dagger that hides deep in her pockets.

Perhaps you’re not the only one clueless in this story. Perhaps she thinks of her knife as harmless as well. And as ignorance is indeed nothing more than bliss on the edge of a cliff, you invest in each other. You are spellbound. And it is beyond beautiful.

Or at least, that’s what you think.

Because with each word you utter, every phrase you exchange, every day, hour, minute and second you indulge in this Dagger-girl’s company, her knife is honed, sharpened, polished until it’s ready to kill even the strongest lion in the whole of South Africa. The closer you are to the zenith of your friendship, and the deeper you fall into this pit of dependence and necessity, the sharper her little knife gets.

Time flies and you’re still entranced, hypnotized by what you thought was a great companionship. Her little dagger has turned into this sharp deadly sword that could destroy you at any given instant.

But what can you do? You know nothing about this, remember?

Stay ignorant, stay blissful.

Until.

Somewhere down the road: you feel an aching sensation down your stomach. It’s burning. It’s bleeding. You were stabbed. Your body is leaking! But she left the knife impaled into your skin and ran away like any normal swindler would after taking away all you had and all that you treasured.

And as you try your best to heal, you find the dagger in your bloody hands. You keep it in your pocket, appalled by her stab-and-run conundrum that you vowed never to let anyone else feel the way you did: stabbed, left, betrayed.

You make a new friend. For some reason, she has helped in mending your wound.

The dagger is still well kept somewhere down the linty folds of your pocket. You vowed never to bring it out; it pained you too much to even take a glance of that little pointed stick that once has penetrated your skin, your life, your friendship.

Once again, what is now your dagger, is sharpened as constantly as your friendship cultivates.

But your bond just keeps blooming,

…so rapid and all too quickly.

Until your friend is bleeding.

And you found yourself running.

And the dagger is now in her hands.

And it’s a cycle.

The Story of My Magikarp

At such a young age, I couldn’t help but feel like Ted Mosby: exhausted, drained and exasperated by this dating world that never seemed to work on my side. In this sea filled with pea-brained fishes, I thought I was lucky enough to have caught a smart little magikarp who could, at a first guess, answer my PolSci questions without having to go through my tedious readings. Just when I was starting to believe that all the stupidity in the world was slowly concentrating around me, he came along.

(When I say pea-brained, I mean every single bit of the cruelty in it. My sails have been most unfortunate: Imagine having to go out with someone who has absolutely no idea who Hitler is! Is it just me, or do these fishes have a great shortage of brain?)

I spotted this little magikarp during my first day as a college freshman. He was quite a stunner (although I’ve often received complaints, accusing me of having the most nauseating taste.) He fell into the pattern of my usual eye candy selection: pasty, white and Asian. Beautiful. It took a little effort and a whole lot of serendipity till he swam away from the friendzone and bit on my fishing rod’s hook. I was captured. I thought I was saved.

Everything was perfect. I was the mouth; he was the ear. I bantered; he listened. I spoke; he agreed. I was a bully; he let me have my way. He’d rain me with compliments and I pretended to be displeased. Everything made sense.

We shared a common passion for academics. He had his calculator and I had my readings. He excelled in Math. I excelled in language. Everyday we continued to mesmerize each other as we admired how the other greatly shone where we fell short.  What I loved the most was how we could go on and on about what we learned in class, or what our daily discernments were—and everything sounded gibberish, but everything sounded genius. I had great respect for anyone who knew his way around numbers, and he just continued to amaze me everyday.

But…

 Perfection and permanence will never co-exist.

The grandeur dulled out. The fondness faded. The novelty died. The admiration turned to aggravation. Soon enough the magikarp I once loved was just another regular fish: a plain old boring adherent of the sea that failed to catch my attention.

Everything he did started to tick me off.  Everything that came out of his mouth annoyed me. What bothered me the most was how he agreed to everything I said, no matter how little or absolutely no sense I made. Every conversation was one-sided, like Charlie and Mary Elizabeth. I want an argument. I need discourse. I need someone to prove me wrong when I am. I don’t want someone to tell me I sing like an Angel when I could hardly do any better than Rebecca Black. He made a constant effort to entertain me; I made a constant effort to be entertained. What once was pleasing became a chore, and treating my fish became a bore.

I want to throw this magikarp back into the ocean.

I should have known better than to take a fish that has never finished a single novel, or that proudly patronizes Nicki Minaj. Maybe I am too picky. Or maybe it was the time when he asked me “Have you watched a Nirvana Concert?” Dealbreaker.

Perhaps I’m just too difficult to get along with. I’m starting to think I am the problem. You might think I am too evil of a person to be posting these things—but he doesn’t even read. It’s not a problem.

I know it’s a cliché but…

It’s not you, it’s me.  

Awkward Song Lyrics that Made Me Spit My Coffee Out

I’m pretty sure this isn’t the first time you’ve stumbled upon an article ranting about completely brainless lyrics that make absolutely no sense. No worries! I won’t banter about Nicki Minaj you a stupid hoe or whatyagonna do with all that junk all that junk kind of songs. (The idiocies in those songs are needless to point out.)

These are awkward lyrics that are geniusly masked and hidden within songs we enjoy listening to, the kind of songs we don’t usually dedicate hate forums for—a few song lyrics that just made me stop what I was doing, spit my coffee and scream “DAFUQ DID I JUST HEAR?”

I’ve classified the awkwardness of the song intro three categories.

     A.     Failed attempt to a clever pun/rhyme.

     B.     Confuses people, big time.

     C.    CREEPY.

1)   The Man Who Can’t Be Moved- The Script

 Failed attempt to a clever pun/rhyme.

They try to hand me money they don’t understand, I’m not broke, I’m just a broken hearted man…

Exactly! There really is a fine line between having no money and getting depressed over heartbreak. That line is so damn fine, people can’t even tell the difference anymore! OF COURSE HOBOS AND BROKENHEARTED PEOPLE LOOK EXACTLY THE SAME AND IT’S JUST SO FRUSTRATING HOW YOUR FRIENDS DON’T UNDERSTAND. I feel your pain. 

SERIOUSLY WHAT KIND OF FRIENDS DO YOU HAVE?? I…can’t…even. 

2)   Fearless- Taylor Swift

        CREEPY.

“And I don’t know how it gets better than this; you take my head and drag me head first, fearless.”

Taylor Swift songs are tailored to suit your mood. (See my pun, oh my gosh I’m too funny) When you feel cheated by a lover, there’s White Horse to sing along to. Feeling like a total creep who peaks on your neighbor’s window to get your daily skin fix? You Belong With Me becomes your peeping song for the night! Are you infatuated with a totally “out-of-your-league” crush that you know you’re too ugly to ever be in a relationship with? Enchanted and Teardrops on my Guitar.

BUT IF YOU EVER FEEL LIKE A TOTALLY MASSOCHISTIC PAIN AFFICIONADO WHO ENJOYES BEING DRAGGED HEADFIRST… You got your song!

3)   Teardrops on My Guitar – Taylor Swift

          Confuses people, big time.

“Drew looks at me.”

“Did she say you?”

“No stupid. She said Drew.”

“But who’s Drew?  Why would she say Drew? I thought she said you. She prolly said you, she just has an accent.”

“Let me search the lyrics”

“Okay, you win.”

 Who the hell is Drew? I’m almost a hundred percent sure that anyone who has ever heard this song had that exact debate with A) Herself or B) An equally confused friend.

4)   What’s My Name- Drake ft. Rihanna

(THIS IS GENIUS)

  “The square root of 69 is 8 something, yeah I’ve been trying to    figure it out.”

I’m a Political Science major; I am mesmerized by anyone who knows his way around numbers. Believe it or not, Drake is mathematically correct. According to my calculator, the square root of 69 is 8.3066

“Rap Genius Presents: Math with Drake

69 is mutual fellatio, and “8 (ate) something” is referring to cunnilingus. It’s also a continuation of his “word of mouth” wordplay from the previous lines. Really clever line on Drake’s part”

-       Some random useless information from Rap Genius.

5)   Shakira - Whenever, Wherever

A.     Failed attempt to a clever pun/rhyme.

"Lucky that my breasts are small and humble so you don't confuse them with mountains."

Okay… First of all, may I commend you for your genius and brilliant use of metaphor? You really know your way around words and poetry! And also, thank you for that information, Shakira! No, seriously, thanks. All these eighteen years of my life I thought you were hot. But thanks for pointing it out! 

6)   Pretty Boy- M2M

            CREEPY.

“I used to write your name, and put it in a frame… And sometimes I think I hear you call right from my bathroom wall”

    I must admit, the girls of m2m are hot (even if they sound like constipated elves when they sing) but this is just down right disturbing. I don’t even feel the need to explain why.

7)  Every Breath You Take- The Police

            CREEPY.

“Every breath you take

Every move you make

Every bond you break

Every step you take

I'll be watching you”

This song is so vastly celebrated that people tend to overlook how outright creepy this song is. Police, I think you should carpool with Taylor Swift and the girls of M2M. They’re going to the Psych Ward!

8)   Firework- Katy Perry

 

         Confuses people, big time.

 “Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?”

NEVER. HAVE YOU?

“How do you feel bro?”

“I feel like a plastic bag.”

  

9)   Two is Better Than One- Boys Like Girls

         Confuses people, big time.

“…but two is better than one…”

Its as if they made a conscious effort to confuse people. Two what? Two heads are better than one? To date two girls at a time? Two WHAT??

I tried to psychoanalyze them and figure out what perhaps went on in their heads while writing the song, and these are the only scenarios I could possibly come up with:

A)   They were meaning to say: “My life is so much better with you. Your presence has made such a difference in my life and being alone sucks.” But with their poor articulation skills, they found that the best, most heartrending and appealing way to capture those thoughts and lay them down in a song is by saying “Two is better than one.”

         B)   There is a subliminal message that secretly encourages and celebrates   cheating, “players” and “two timers”

C)   They wanted to spite Taylor Swift (who is very outright with her hatred for heartbreak or any accessory of the crime) hoping she would write about them in her next song.

D)   They just really wanted to confuse us.

10)  Cheated- Mike Posner

       CREEPY.

“I should have cheated on you. You were everything I wanted and more.

I should have cheated on you. Nobody told me I was dating a whore.

I should have cheated. Cheated. Cheated.

CAROLYN STEVENS, THIS SONG IS FOR YOU.”

This line almost made me spit my coffee.

Carolyn Stevens, whoever you are, I think you need a hug. Did that bully Posner ruin your life? Lets beat him up! Oh wait, no, he’s hot and you’re a cheating hoe and the completely rational world hates you now.

Crisp insulting words + Heartless name dropping = WOAH SHIT I JUST SPAT MY COFFEE OUT.

And I have come to conclude that: Mike Posner is the male Taylor Swift.

Both are hot

Both are extremely hot

Both have eargasmic voices

Both are prone to heartbreak and believe its perfectly normal and mature to write a song about how romantically pathetic they are

Winning the world’s sympathy through music

Both have successfully brainwashed the industry to detest their ex

Both are psycho

Both namedrop (See: Carolyn Stevens, Drew, Stephen, etc)

Both are hot