DONT: make fun of any member’s english. Reminder that they are KOREAN and speak KOREAN. They are NOT REQUIRED to speak any english. You should be thankful that they memorize not only words but also entire phrases and sentences to express their love to international fans.
dont yell at cashiers for having to get a manager to continue a return.
dont yell at a cashier for checking if we sell the item.
dont curse at the cashier because the manager is taking awhile.
dont be angry with the cashier.
we just trying to do what we can.
Don’t tell me that my period “probably isn’t that bad” or I’m “overreacting” when the myometrium of the uterus can contract with 100 lbs of force. Boy bye. My vagina basically be lifting mafuckin weights when I’m on my period.
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
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…