The Only Exception is the exception in Glee

So I saw last night’s Glee episode along with a bajillion of people. The second episode of the second season was a Britney episode (not too different from the Madonna episode – only about twenty-five years younger). Thank God it wasn’t an episode like the real Britney Spears is stuck in the middle of the country and just happened to pass by their high school, but instead, Britney shows up in their fantasies as they were high in whatever rape drug Karl (Carl?) the dentist was using on these kids. The dentist by the way was played by Uncle Jesse. And the Rippers.

Anyway – Heather Morris, hands down, carried the episode. Who knew this Beyonce back up dancer had it in her? Sure – she’s just an okay actress, sorta good singer, but she sure can dance. Oh, also found out her full name is Brittany Susan Pierce – Britanny S. Pierce. I’m dying here. Anyway, she did a “Slave 4 U” cover while wearing every possible Britney outfit: the nude with diamonds, the red latex suit, the albino boa charmer. She also did a duet with Santana – “Me Against the Music”. If the writers’ goal for the episode is to celebrate Heather Morris, good job. If it was to pay homage to Britney, it was rather meh-ish. I’m just happy Britney was barely in it. She’s no actress. Somebody needs to tell her that. I know – I’ve seen Crossroads. After seeing the movie, I seriously questioned my taste in movies.

Now the clincher really was the last song sung in the episode – it was not a Britney song! What the fuck was that about? I really think this one Paramore song took away the focus from the Britney-themed episode. I know that’s true because after watching it, I purchased the Paramore song without even considering to download any of the Spears song – original or Glee-covers.

Here’s The Only Exception, with lyrics below. Oh, go ahead and fall in love with Hayley Williams, it’s cool:


When I was younger
I saw my daddy cry
And curse at the wind
He broke his own heart
And I watched as he tried to reassemble it

And my mama swore
That she would never let herself forget
And that was the day that I promised
I’d never sing of love
If it does not exist

But, darling, you are the only exception
But you are the only exception
But you are the only exception
But you are the only exception

Well, maybe I know somewhere
Deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we’ve got to find other ways
To make it alone
Or keep a straight face

And I’ve always lived like this
Keeping a comfortable distance
And up until now, I had sworn to myself
That I’m content with loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk

Well, you are the only exception
Well, you are the only exception
Well, you are the only exception
Well, you are the only exception

I’ve got a tight grip on reality
But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here
I know you’re leaving in the morning when you wake up
Leave me of some kind of proof it’s not a dream, oh

You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
And I’m on my way to believing
Oh, and I’m on my way to believing

Scar from a Wound I Never Had

Nine years ago, September 12, I was totally detached from the instant feed of information. I had a cell phone but it served as what it was invented for – phone calls. I did not surf the web with it, and Twitter was not invented yet. Despite the fact I slept early the night before, I was running late for class. I remember wearing a plain with t-shirt because I ran out of clean clothes. I remember running past several classrooms filled with uninteresting and disinterested students who were all thinking it is too early to be in class. My friend Kiel was late as well, but he had concern in his face when he asked “Do you have family in New York?”

I was then a student in a Catholic college in the Philippines begrudgingly taking accounting. It was the second of the two financial accounting classes I was late for that morning – lecture for that week was different kinds of dividends. I recall that my professor was irate the day before for not paying attention to her – she singled me out in class for snickering a little too loud on a joke shared between me and my friend who I chose to sit next to for the rest of the semester. But that morning, as I walked in, she asked “Have you heard?” as if the day before did not happen.

I was totally lost – what happened?

She has already told the class what had happened the day before – or more precisely, twelve hours before. Nine in the morning, of September 11th, Philippines was still too early for the late news, and I was already getting ready for bed. Two airplanes were intentionally crashed into the Twin Towers in New York City, a third plane in the Pentagon in Arlington, and a fourth in a field in Pennsylvania. I did not understand what she was saying – one just never says “intentionally” and “crash” in the same sentence. I thought there must be a mistake. A very strong wave of disbelief went through me and I realized at one point that I was holding my breath, waiting for some clincher stating no one was hurt, everything was okay even though this was just utterly outside the realm of reasonableness.

We prayed. We had a minute of silence. I prayed. The class continued the rest of the morning calculating dividends in arrears for preferential stock holders while I continued praying during a time in my life when I considered my faith dead. I found myself praying to a God I hated.

I had no family in New York. I had no friends in the east coast. In fact, I did not know anyone in this part of the country since family from my dad’s side was principally in Colorado. I have no ties, not even loose ones, in New York and yet I was sad. I was disappointed. I felt like humanity failed me. It was hard to wrap my brain around the idea that man can do this to his fellowmen. A minute of silence would not make me comprehend that this is the horrible truth, that we are capable of such damage.

I did not see the hole the towers left behind until the summer of 2005. I looked around and realized New York survived. Somehow, New York was able to peer underneath the bed and stare back at the monster. The pain will not go away – you get use to it.

That same summer, I decided to move. And here I am, a New Yorker. Scarred by a wound I did not bear.