enjoy my insane taste in music

anonymous asked:

how do you think got7's music compares to bangtan's? musically, lyrically, etc. also which do you think fits your music taste more and how would you describe them? I'm really interested to hear your opinion about music so thanks for answering my long ass question ^^

I’ll preface this by saying though I stan got7, I stan got7 because of the people within the group and their personalities more so than their music and I know a many many people who feel the same way. imo bangtan and got7 are in two different playing fields made to appeal to two different types of audiences which can be seen through their music 

bangtan fits my music taste completely where as there are only a few songs from got7 I truly really enjoy that I find fit got7 well which makes me sad. I think jyp needs to stop with the whole jyp rapping, let jackson sing since he’s mentioned 290952058 times he doesn’t want to rap, let the boys discover their music grove that fits with them rather than keep pushing the hard ‘hiphop’ vibe because got7 truly has the potential to be one of the most powerful ballad groups. their vocal line is insane but is not being used to their full potential and their music is also hindering what they can do musically and vocally. I have so much faith in got7 and I keep hoping that soon they will be able to kinda go back to something fun like just right because i think that really fits got7 well (musically and personality wise) or go into more ballad things like if you do, confession song, etc. because they would fucking kill it

so it was a rare occasion where both me and my sister were hanging out with my dad

and my sister was complaining that she had to use 2 day expired bread today and how horrible and disgusting a concept that was even though it apparently didn’t taste bad enough that she didn’t eat it

so as i’m about to bust out some snarky remark about how fuckin insane that is my dad comes in with “well expiration dates are mostly just suggestions made up by companies in order to make sure you buy more of their product”

and i was like DAMN DAD FUCKIN’ TELL HER

it was the most satisfying moment of my life and i had never been more proud

side note i also showed my dad post malone’s music (most of which he enjoyed) and had the pleasure of explaining who jake paul is and why he’s awful

angellfallendown  asked:

my brother is an actual mess but like i love him???? he's almost 6 and he loves twenty one pilots (mainly because i love them and he likes to listen to music with me, similarly he enjoys les mis b/c of me) and he calls kitchen sink the "doink doink song" and he calls tyler's screams beautiful and his favorite songs are air catcher and ruby

awh oh my god he sounds so adorable!! thank you so much for sharing this kate u just put a big smile on my face

he has great taste air catcher and ruby are like..,.,,. insanely good

send me asks about people you love!

Talking About My Everything....Finally.

When I was 9 years old I met the most beautiful boy I’d ever seen. He was the first real thing I ever wanted. And I wanted him bad. I chased him. I put myself in his path at every available moment. I was a pest. A charming, irresistible, adorable, annoying little pest.

When I was 10, he said “fine,” rolled his eyes and held my hand. That moment was everything. He was everything. He was everything when I was 10. He was  everything when I was 11 and 12 and 13 and 14 and 15. And then I was 16. He was not perfect. I was not perfect and we were not perfect. Except for in quiet moments  where we just were. Those moments when we just existed. When it seemed that we simply lived  to breath life into each other.

But I was not perfect and as a young man he was not good. He was in a gang, he sold drugs, he hurt people. He hurt me. But, I loved him. I was devoted to him in that way that the young are devoted to their first and only loves. That way that says “forever,” despite all the odds.

We had the kind of relationship where we were simply ourselves. He fanned the flame of my Scorsese love, watched old movies with me and would start conversations with “when you’re a big time director…” He was a secret nerd who consumed comic books  (now you know where my comic knowledge comes from) and watched, rewatched and watched Dragon Ball Z again and again. He tolerated my music taste. Learning the lyrics of the Backstreet Boys and jamming to my favorite classic rock. He enjoyed the fact that I just didn’t fit into our world. “You fit me,” he used to say and that was true.

I shined under the light of his interest even as I knew he lacked empathy or concern for others. It was always insane to watch the boy whose hands held me so gently, hold a bat with a violence that was frightening and intense. I don’t think he ever killed anyone, but I believe he could have. He was the type that could bloody his hands and then wash them as if water washed the sins as well as the evidence. He cheated, I forgave him. Whenever we broke up his enemies used me to get to him, I let them. Because he was not perfect, but neither was I.

I lived a life fit for the movies, but I never let go of him, because he was my everything. He knew me and accepted me. I knew him and accepted him despite his faults.

One day, in my junior year of high school, he took me home and promised to call, but never did. It was his brother who told me that he’d been stabbed.

For a few days he traveled in and out of consciousness. There were these fleeting moments when his eyes would open. When he would speak. When his mind seemed intact. They didn’t last long, those moments, because his body was in the midst of failing him. One day, he asked his brother to send me a text. It said, “Who wants to Live Forever, Queen.” I remember this text and wondering what it meant.  I called his phone. He didn’t answer.  I got on the train, got off at my stop and found his brother waiting for me. He didn’t say a word. I just knew.

I’d lost my everything.

It seems impossible now that I kept breathing, without his lungs to blow into mine. It seems impossible that I continue to chase my dreams without him in my corner. It seems impossible that I have managed to put together the pieces of my heart and that it still beats steadily in my chest. And that was after 7 years. I have no idea how widows and widowers manage to live after they lose their decades long loves. Because he’s been dead longer than he loved me and I still miss his presence.

In typical Naomi fashion, I locked Quincy into the parts of my heart that I didn’t need to function. And then I shut that treacherous organ down. (This is obviously a metaphor if I shut off my heart I’d be dead)

It took years before I figured out his last text message. Don’t ask me why I didn’t google it or do any research. I have no answers beyond fear, anger, denial and grief. I discovered his words years later while studying in Dublin.  A friend played, Who Wants To Live Forever by Queen and while Freddie Mercury sang directly into my heart, I finally understood.

With lyrics like “There’s no chance for us, It’s all decided for us. This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us.” I understood that he thought of me in his last hours. I understood that he was giving me the green light to move on and I understood that he was trying to say, goodbye. It’s strange that at the end he could be poetic. (Or it was his older brother’s idea, both of these are equally possible, but I choose to believe the romantic one)

Since his death 9 years ago, I have discovered things about him that threatened to destroy me. He really was a son of a bitch. But, now, today I have decided to cling to one thing and that is the feeling. I think that he made me happy. He believed in me and hoped that I would accomplish everything. I was going to get out of the hood and he was going to come with me.

I loved him. He loved me. Those days of being 15, sneaking out of the house and lying beside him as he talked about the person I would someday be are burned into my mind and my heart. It’s burned into everything I am. No matter what else happened or happens from now on, I had someone who believed in me. No one can take that away. Not time, not life and not death itself.

Because he will never be what he hoped. He’ll never age, he’ll never mature. He’ll always be that boy who said “Fine” and held my hand all those years ago. But, I will be all that I promised him and so much more.

Rest in peace to my beloved, my forever boy, my everything.