What's Wrong With Being Obsessed?

How cringe culture holds us back. Plus, the Korean pianist and dish that altered my brain chemistry this week.

I still remember the first time I was obsessed. I was 10 years old and Christina Aguilera’s controversial Stripped album had just come out. I liked the pop star before, but Stripped made me obsessed with her. Rather than the provocative songs everyone was talking about (Dirty), I related to the quieter pieces about her abusive father. Because at that time I felt trapped, living with grandparents who detested pop music so much I once sneaked out in the middle of a cold winter night to throw Christina’s earlier album into the neighbour’s backyard. I would escape the kitchen arguments to my bedroom, where I’d put on my CD player headphones and escape into Stripped for hours. I’d study the liner notes, silently mouthing the lyrics to each song like I was singing at church. I didn’t know Christina but I felt like she knew me. When I saw her fan mail address in the back of YM magazine, I wrote her a heartfelt letter, and anxiously awaited her reply.