rock music and insecurity

“God exists 360 degrees like unsolved mysteries... Agent Orange come up! Come up!”


You might think a brother or a guy cousin adores this. But it was me who used to adore this. It was so unlikely of me where everyone knew me back in High School as a sweet and conservative girl. Not into loud rock music like everybody (or almost everybody did in the campus).


I would borrow CDs of Slapshock and Limp Bizkit from friends and hurriedly play this at home. Rock goes with very loud volume and banging of head. To my father’s dismay, he would shout at me telling to stop it. For him, it wasn’t a music but a useless noise. I would get mad at him for not appreciating my music preference. We would always clash.


After a quite bout, I was over this love for rock. And I was in utter disbelief why I came to love rock and rock isn’t rockin’ at all.


And this “why” had been answered when I came to love myself.


The inclination to rock music was brought about the need to belong.


When I was in High School, mind you, I was a nerdy type who came from geekoid society. Minus the eyeglasses and braces and the not-confident-voice (imagine Betty La fea!). I was an achiever. And my brand of fun which was reading books, watch TV and stay at home. Theirs was sneaking out late at night just to go disco, escape classes, drink, smoke and date. My brand of fun would bore them to death. And so there was this longing that I could catch up with my friends, do their thing as well. Gladly, I never resorted to drinking and smoking just to belong. Rock music was my way of getting into what’s fad, to be of some sort to feel I was one of them.


But one day, it hit me. The hell with those crazy rock music! I didn’t need to do anything just to be loved, I need not force myself to like Rock music just to be accepted. There’ s no prerequisite to have friends. We just have to be ourselves. We just have to accept our own self, the rest will follow.