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The Saratoga Falcon

The Saratoga Falcon

Nobody’s perfect, but Miley Cyrus is as close as it gets

When they hear the name Miley Cyrus, most people conjure a disturbing image of her newly popularized dance move dubbed “twerking,” in which dancers violently shake their behinds.

I, on the other hand, think of a confident and talented woman who possesses an ample number of admirable characteristics. Basically, I’m obsessed with Miley Cyrus.

Before you begin to judge me, I must have you know that her decision to abstain from wearing substantial clothing has not in any way encouraged my liking for her. In fact, for me, clothing is quite important. Often, I find myself still being a follower of my middle school dress code.

Nevertheless, I admire her extreme sense of confidence in taking bold actions and starting new, albeit odd, trends.

My sudden realization of Cyrus’ confidence dawned upon me slightly over a year ago. At the time, I was far from a Miley Cyrus fan and only an occasional viewer of “Hannah Montana” reruns.

It started on a boring Tuesday afternoon, when my proactive freshman self had completed all of my homework the previous night. At 5 p.m., I received a phone call from my excited father, who proceeded to tell me that he had received two free Miley Cyrus Bangerz concert tickets from a client. My father, who is slightly behind in modern pop culture, was oblivious to Cyrus’ recent transformation from a sweet Disney Channel character to a scandalous pop star.

I frantically began looking for a friend who was willing to attend the concert, which was at 7 p.m. the same day.

Quickly, I realized that I would be unable to find a friend to come with me on such short notice, so I accepted the obvious solution: going with my father.

As we entered the SAP Center, my father quickly realized that he did not fit in with the rest of the “teenage girl”-dominated crowd. Luckily, our suite seats provided us with a barrier from the screaming fangirls. I still have a hunch that he was more excited to eat the free guacamole than to watch Cyrus perform.

After my awkward attempts to warn my father of potentially inappropriate dancing, the lights faded and Cyrus entered the stage, energetically waving her hand and blowing kisses to the audience. As she sang each song, I fell in love with her flawless voice and confidence. During her second song, she forgot two words for one of her songs. Rather than ignoring this mishap and feeling embarrassed, she obliviously acknowledged her mistake and laughed. At one point, I looked over to share my excitement with my father, only to find him in a deep slumber.

By the end of the concert, I was in awe of her obvious talent. I no longer paid attention to her clothing choices or hairstyle. All that mattered was her voice. If anything, her sparkling outfits added to the uniqueness of the performance. I still felt uncomfortable while she was twerking, but I nonetheless enjoyed the concert immensely. My father, on the other hand, was a little angry when the loud finale woke him up.

Throughout the next week, I, drawn to her amicable personality, came home every day and watched interviews with her. I discovered her constant support for feminism and equality, agreeing with her when she said, “I’m a feminist. I’m telling women be whoever you want to be.”

I even admired her skill and tact as a business woman. In response to questions regarding her inappropriate behavior, she stated that regardless of whether people obsess or “hate” on her, they are still talking about her and giving her publicity, and so either way, she “wins.” I found this a brilliant technique and a smart way to respond to questions about her controversial behavior.

Gradually, my liking for her grew, and soon enough, I was a fan.

So next time you see me, don’t start an overdramatized rant about Miley Cyrus; otherwise I just might have to come in like a wrecking ball.

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