Denial - This isn’t happening. She’s not real. “Just Dance” has to be a forgery. She has to be sampling. Oh, I know, this is a cover. No? It’s all her? She writes her own songs? Plays the piano? Actually sings? I refuse to believe this. Believing this would mean believing some girl in her early twenties isn’t your run-of-the-mill Piano Princess, and understands the dynamics of pop music well enough to compose an iconic first hit. Denial is the only option at this phase.
Bargaining - In addition to “Just Dance,” I’m just going to like “Papparazzi,” but that’s it! I refuse to be a predictable consumer of pop music. I refuse to like all of her radio singles. There’s no denying the girl is good, but she’s not that good. Wait. Her part in Wale’s “Chillin” is pretty decent. “Poker Face” is growing on me. Okay, pop music puppeteers, I’ll like “Chillin” in exchange for liking “Poker Face,” but I refuse to submit to the rest of Gaga. Never.
Contempt - I’m beginning to think this bitch killed Michael Jackson…and look at her…standing up for civil rights, and stuff, who does she think she is? How uppity. Does she think she’s, like, important? Well, she’s not. She’s still just a Pop Princess. She still makes soulless pop music that will mean nothing in a couple of years. She’s not great.
Acceptance - Lady Gaga is alright. Not a fan or a hater, just an observer- an observer that’s very doubtful of whether she’ll ever produce anything better, or as good as her debut.
Obsession - FAME MONSTER leaks. Holy shit. I think the Universe’s water just broke. Birth of a motherfucking icon. I love this woman. I want to be this woman. I want to go to war for this woman. I want to buy her merchandise, and wait up at odd hours of the night to see her live. There is nothing holy in this world, or as sacred as Gaga. Oh hey, shrine. So I have a shrine in my closet of Lady Gaga? This woman is amazing. I’m going to liveblog my reactions to everything she ever does. I want to meet her. I wonder if she has a secret tumblr I don’t know about.