Why am I posting this

there are a lot of things i love about jackson wang 

i love that he’s known for bluffing constantly but somehow he really still comes off as a genuine person and that’s such an impressive feat because that means he must really be quite genuine 

and i love that despite the fact that he acts like he’s the shit and basically every article of clothing he owns says WANG on it in all caps i still get the sense that he’s really humble

and he’s always acting jealous of mark whenever mark gets any attention but you can tell at this point he’s only doing it for the laughs because when it comes down to it he’s the first to point out how amazing mark is like how on asc when they asked if jackson thought he was better looking than mark jackson immediately without hesitation said no & how he thinks he’s not bad looking but not good looking because “i look in the mirror” which really makes me so sad because it’s not fun looking in the mirror and thinking badly of yourself i wish everyone could look in the mirror and love themselves

and then that same time on asc mark & eric wrote that even though he’s annoying he’s funny sometimes, just to ease him, but after that he asked mark so seriously “you didn’t tell me i was annoying” in this tone like he’s been told that by people before and is insecure about it and he’s so worried that his best friend thinks he’s annoying too 

and he’s so talented with his dancing and his fencing and his languages 

and his laugh is my favorite thing and he’s just so freaking FUNNY like everything he does is hilarious 

and i love how affectionate he is with everybody and how caring he is toward bambam and the way he is with his parents 

and the fact that he understands and acknowledges the difference between being a rapper and rapping because your company tells you to 

and i love how he said he likes girls with thick thighs and dark skin because nobody ever says that and even though i wish none of us needed to depend on someone’s opinion to feel good about ourselves, we do, and that means a lot 

i’m not sure how this turned into such a rant but man jackson just seems like such a great guy i just wish i could be best friends with him



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my friend was laughing the entire time she was taking the first picture, so dan asked if it was bad. we looked at it and it turns out she was just laughing at woody photobombing. I said, “could I be any shorter?” and dan offered to take another one crouching down. mid crouch, I said, “no, no, I can just stand on my tippies,” but instead, he picked me up. I actually squealed because it’s like hi hello dan smith is lifting me and the view up here is great and all but what is happening?? and that’s how the embarrassing second picture happened.

I’m 43 shades of red just typing this omg

ps it looks like these photos were taken on a piece of bread idk why


Crisp, painfully smooth sheets of paper sit on your stand for the first time. Notes and patterns now unfamiliar, exotic, exciting, that you’ll soon be able to sing backwards and trace out from memory.
You stutter through the phrases, stopping every now and again to examine the ink. Scratches and incoherent marks appear on the fresh page that mean nothing to anyone else but map out a routine, a journey, in your head.

The arrogant, relentless snap of the metronome pushes you forwards as you trip over the runs. Patterns slowly emerge through the music taking place. As you pack away, aching with the satisfaction of work well done, one phrase lodges itself in your head and circles around, kindling the excitement of coming back and working on something new for tomorrow.

You stumble into awakening and are warming up your fingers, rippling through scales before your mind has stopped sleeping. You’re rubbing your eyes and squinting at your stand long after dark, rolling your shoulders back to push away the fatigue for another half hour. Slowly, slowly, amongst the frustrated yells, triumphant air punching, maniacal tapping of rhythms and phrases every waking moment and relentless repetition, a piece of music is forming. Finally, the enjoyment of flying through the pages and knowing roughly what you’re doing thrills you.

It’s only two weeks away! You clench your fists and clamp back a yell at the page as you play the same mistake for what feels like the millionth time. You know every crevice of the music inside and out, but everything has lost that initial spark with the obsession of perfection. You take a breath and move away, to come back in a clearer mind and work through it slowly until the final puzzle pieces fall into place.

At last, the day has arrived. An odd mixture of serenity at your knowledge of the music and blind panic fearing nerves and mistakes settles over you, and your head buzzes with it in the background of every other like-minded performance. You glance down at the programme every six seconds to count how many pieces there are to go before you’re on. The inevitable call of your name catches your ears and you plaster a calm smile on your face as your mind starts freaking. You wipe your hands on your sides a thousand times as you settle your music and open the page. Chin lifted. Shoulders back. Fingers tingling. Deep breath…