It always amazes me how, when you think your tastes are clearly the best in the world and everyone else is an idiot, you can still find new things that you just wouldn't expect to enjoy. It happens to me continuously and sometimes I just get lost in all the shit that previously would've thrown my nostrils all a quiver. I let my girlfriend loose on my Last FM earlier and she put on some crazy shit emo radio from a band called something like 'Aiden'. She'd previously inflicted some other bands upon me like The Used, Fallout Boy, and My Chemical Romance, and, like spaghetti flung at a kitchen wall, they stuck. Now Aiden didn't sink in. It wasn't really my kind of thing, but through some musical butterfly effect of my Last FM thinking I liked them and then thinking I liked the bands that were like them and so on and whatever I got hearing a band called Mindless Self Indulgence. If you clicked the link to my Last FM (Oh! There it goes again) then you'd see that my past shitload of tracks have been MSI. I'd been exposed to them before through listening to The Left Rights but I had assumed they were one of those bands that people who weren't me liked, as I always do. I started thinking, which is always a critical event for anyone who ends up in a conversation with me. How do we humans form tastes? They're not built in. We must get them somewhere. Then I thought about my favourite past time: Video Games. My favourite game by far is Half Life 2. Yet in no way am I the most hardcore fan. I wasn't exposed to the first Half Life at all and the sequel I came to two years after it's release. I realised that my favourite video game I didn't even find for myself. My dad found it in a NEWSPAPER. He'd previously only played a few games on a despicably casual level, and decided, when reading The Independent's 'Top 50 Best Games', that he should sort his painfully successful life out and get playing Half Life 2. He was the one who introduced it to me. My love for my favourite franchise spanned entirely from a bloody middle class newspaper that my dad reads. Just how malleable am I?