I never came up with a title for this song, but the working title was “Hate”

“Hate”

I slept in the backseat of my car last afternoon
Been thinking of writing these words down, to get them to you
My fear has consumed me, i’m digging a hole for a tomb
I need you to save me
I hope you can find it in you
You are the only cloud in my sky

You crept in my head just before I had fallen asleep
You kissed me so softly I swear that it wasn’t a dream
We built a castle and lived there forever, it seemed
but when I wake up you’re gone and I am left there to think
that you are the only cloud in my sky

the only cloud in my sky
the only cloud in my sky
the only cloud in my sky

And as much as you giveith, you takeith away
You keep me alive and destroy me just the same
How could I love everything that I hate?
How am I in love with everything that I hate?
 

“Forever a Piper Pirate”

Step one is understanding
All that I want is to fit in
I want to be myself again
So I can stand up tall like a monument
If I could be anything at all I’d be your anchor
I know you need me
And we will sink with all that could have been

Step two is breathing deeply
Exhale the poison from your lungs
And think that we forgot
You’re just the same as I always thought
If I could be anything at all I’d be your anchor
I know you need me
And we will sink with all that could have been

Remember the good times,
Outnumbered by millions
Remember the good times,
A head on collision

“Singers and Musicians are some of the most driven, courageous people on the face of the earth. They deal with more day-to-day rejection in one year than most people do in a lifetime. Every day, they face the financial challenge of living a freelance lifestyle, the disrespect of people who think they should get real jobs, and their own fear that they’ll never work again. Every day, they have to ignore the possibility that the vision they have dedicated their lives to is a pipe dream. With every note, they stretch themselves, emotionally and physically, risking criticism and judgment. With every passing year, many of them watch as the other people their age achieve the predictable milestones of normal life - the car, the family, the house, the nest egg. Why? Because musicians and singers are willing to give their entire lives to a moment - to that melody, that lyric, that chord, or that interpretation that will stir the audience’s soul. Singers and Musicians are beings who have tasted life’s nectar in that crystal moment when they poured out their creative spirit and touched another’s heart. In that instant, they were as close to magic, God, and perfection as anyone could ever be. And in their own hearts, they know that to dedicate oneself to that moment is worth a thousand lifetimes.” 

- David Ackert, LA Times

fighttitle asked: Well well well look who it is lmao

Well, well, well haha, I suck at tumblr

The other day I went into my art class, ready to present a final I spent a few hours making. The project was to pick a few objects that described me (a self portrait without drawing yourself, per se) so I picked my glasses, a beer, and a box of oatmeal. I didn’t put a lot of thought into it, even though it came out nice. 

When I delivered my speech, I did it with great success. I got an A on the project, lots of compliments, but still it didn’t mean that much to me. There is an older lady in our class who has a Russian accent, probably in her mid 30’s who came in with a really simple final: it was a black and white drawing of a shirtless boy with long hair, holding a jar of water with a leaf in it, standing in the front with only the sun in the background. At first glance, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t necessarily as good as mine, or even as good as half the ones in the class. But then she gave a speech and it twisted my entire view of her piece.

She told us a story, “I wanted to express my emotions with this piece. The other day I was cleaning the house, and I noticed the roses I had in a vase were dying and they did not look beautiful anymore, so I threw them away. That night my youngest son came up to me crying, asking me ‘Why did you throw the roses away? How could you do that Mom, they were so beautiful’.”

She continued, “I began to think, what is it that made these roses look beautiful to my son, and what made them look ugly to me? Take the leaves for example, isn’t it funny how we only think they are beautiful when they are down at our feet, after falling dead from the trees?”

That’s when I began to realize that everything is beautiful to someone. People, things, animals, all are beautiful to someone in some way. Not everyone, but someone. And that’s enough. After her speech, I began to think her piece was the best in the room.