I have a confession to make. I have been abusing my dog. Before PETA starts picketing on my front lawn, let me explain. The abuse is not physical – it’s emotional. For the last six months or so, I have been forcing my dog to listen to emo.

It started when my girlfriend and I broke up at the beginning of the summer. Since we were living together, the breakup was more than a parting of ways – it was a change in lifestyle. The breakup doubled my rent and left me living alone with my 2-year-old Siberian Husky, Dakota.

Breakups are never an easy thing, but for a music nut, they are pure agony. While most people spend time with friends or start a new relationship, a music fiend will be busy trying to find that “perfect song” to capture their emotions.

Unfortunately for me, the quest for musical enlightenment drove me into the arms of a vicious lover known as “emo.”

Things were harmless in the beginning. A little Get Up Kids here, a little Dashboard Confessional there and everything was right with the world. I felt better and Dakota was a happy puppy. But things got worse before they got better.

My music collection slowly became a tribute to my emotions. My NOFX albums suddenly sounded way too loud. New emo began to sound too commercialized and only obscure old-school bands would do. Pedro the Lion and Modest Mouse became my favorite animals, and Victory and Vagrant my labels. The mood around my house was a little dismal for a while, but my mental well-being has slowly returned.

Unfortunately, things have never been the same for Dakota.

Afternoons spent chasing his tail were replaced by hours of sleeping and soul-searching on the couch. Watching from the porch as people walk by turned into whining whenever he sees a female dog. He developed an eye infection that made it look like he was crying.

My dog had become an emo kid. If he were human, he would be wearing horn-rimmed glasses and pegged jeans. I knew it was time for some therapy.

I bought him more toys and took him on more walks but nothing seemed to work. The solution was staring me in the face but I refused to see it. When I found him trying to dye his hair jet-black, I knew it was time to go emo-free.

Ending the addiction was more difficult than starting it. Bands that had helped me through the hard times were replaced by edgier newcomers. Old favorites from the world of punk were dusted off and put back in the CD player. After a few weeks, the addiction is over for the both of us.

I’m not saying emo is inherently bad. I still listen to a lot of emo, but I do it in moderation this time. Making it through life can be tough enough without music that makes it even tougher.

If I have learned anything, it is that music should complement emotions, not create them. It’s one thing to appreciate a particular kind of music, but living out a certain lifestyle to follow a genre is ridiculous.

Luckily, I am almost recovered from my emo addiction, and I think Dakota is going to come out OK. My next musical journey will hopefully be a little less traumatic for the both of us. Bring on the Justin Timberlake solo album!

Aaron

Ladage

is a junior in journalism

and mass communication from Tripoli. He is an A&E writer for the Daily.