[Some time-sensitive material edited that is no longer relevant. Examine the posts for this month yourself.]
Now, I want to use the remainder of this post to gripe a bit about something off-topic—pretentious people. You know the type: they just have to define themselves and their interests against whatever they perceive as the mainstream. They are constantly discovering new music, artists, filmmakers, and so on, but the minute anyone else has heard of them, they drop them like hot potatoes and call them sellouts. Either that or they will only listen to/watch/read the most highly praised stuff, and everything else is complete garbage. As for myself, I like what I like, whether it’s popular or not, or whether it is good (by critical standards) or not. And I fully confess that I have my guilty pleasures, stuff that is not particularly great but which I find interesting or entertaining for some reason. The Transformers film franchise is a good example. Although they are not very good films, they have a nostalgic appeal for me because the Transformers were my favorite toys when I was a child.
On the flip side, I like a lot of things that most of the people in my circle of friends and family do not, such as foreign films. Which leads to another type of people I have a gripe with—provincial people. These are the types who shudder at the idea of being exposed to anything new or outside of their usual scope of interest. I’ll give anything a try, and often I find that, even if I don’t necessarily care for something right off the bat, it winds up becoming something I love quite a bit later on. I’m especially like that with music; thus, I have an extremely eclectic range of musical interest–everything from classic rock bands to alternative to modern groups that are unclassifiable, like Sigur Rós. Alright, end of gripe session. Carry on.