im just gonna miss seeing him with the other boys…im gonna miss his random additions to their anecdotes, his expressions of concern for harry, his pure love for niall, his mischievous spirit with louis, his boners for liam
the history of hip-hop class i took freshman year was predominately white men. i remember one time we had to do a presentation on some type of social issue that was covered in hip hop music and this group of four guys did “Feminism in Hip-hop.”
So they started the presentation with"In hip-hop, the female race is underrepresented…“
Ever since her enigmatic videos debuted on YouTube, Nigerian-native YAGAZIE EMEZI has been on everyone’s radar, including ours. Yagazie is a natural born storyteller who can captivate an audience – simply by sharing random anecdotes of her daily life. This pragmatic view on life has helped her YouTube videos go stratospheric. On a recent trip to Lagos, we make it a point to track Yagazie down in hopes of collaborating with her and possibly shooting her for Mataano.
We first meet up with the rising star at her home in Victoria Island. In person, the softly spoken beauty known for her unmistakable curly fro, is dressed simply in a black t-shirt and track shorts; her famous hair is braided down to her hip. Her style is deliberately unfussy. Listening to her talk, it’s quickly becomes clear that she is a perfect fit for Mataano. Thankfully, she is also a fan of our work. With introductions out of the way, we make plans to shoot her in a few key looks from our SS15 collection.
As a boy Brahms spent time on a farm in the country, where he would go for a swim at dawn, help with chores, and then be set free for the day. He would often carry a practice keyboard out into the fields. After he did not return for dinner one evening, his hosts found him asleep far from the farmhouse, snuggling with his little silent keyboard. He had been badly sunburned.
As is well known, he spent time as a young boy playing for low wages in dockside brothels. It is thought that he picked up two lifelong habits here: an unease in sexual relations with women, and an unremitting love of popular dance rhythms.
One of Brahms’ early conducting gigs was as director of a ladies’ chorus in Hamburg. After rehearsals he could sometimes be found drinking in a public park; he liked to climb into a tree, from which point he would entertain the ladies in the chorus below.
His heart may have belonged to Clara, but particularly as he aged he took an … interest … in a series of much younger women. He was particularly fond of women with beautiful singing voices and sharp wits.
Brahms had a mortal fear of traveling overseas. He was susceptible to extreme seasickness and only very rarely left the German-speaking countries of central Europe, the major exceptions being several trips to Italy. This dislike of sea-travel was the biggest factor in his refusal to travel to England to accept an honorary doctorate (twice). He was also self-conscious about his inability to speak languages other than German.
Especially in chamber and piano music, there is some evidence that Brahms often hastily sketched out the bass line and melodic foreground as two simple voices in their entirety before proceeding. These early sketches are rare because Brahms habitually destroyed them, but where they exist they correspond almost perfectly with the finished products, suggesting that he did much of the work of composition quickly and in his head.
He was fastidiously, obsessively neat in the organization of his papers and of all matters related to music, but kept a dirty and disorganized household and dressed cheaply and sloppily regardless of his wealth.
For almost all his adult life, Brahms viewed himself as a failure for not having attained the leadership of the philharmonic in Hamburg, his hometown, and he blamed this failure for his lack of a wife and family. When the post was finally offered to him shortly before his death, he turned it down. Brahms avoided leadership posts in general because of his distaste for logistics and politics; but though he worked with many orchestras of quality far superior to Hamburg’s, he always coveted the post for sentimental, idealized reasons.
Brahms was a great writer of elegant letters, but detested writing them.
He did not respond well to either criticism or praise, and would answer both with much the same gruff disregard.
Brahms in his maturity spent only a few spring and summer months of each year engaged in actual composition, typically at country homes or resort towns in the mountains such as Bad Ischl, which became his “second home.” Like his friend Johann Strauss Sohn, Brahms was most happy working outdoors, at a clerk’s standing desk.
Though he sometimes alienated friends with his distracted and brittle nature, he was a profoundly warm-hearted man who thrilled at the chance to give sweets to the beggar children who would often appear the kitchen windows of wealthy homes he visited. Brahms donated the majority of his wealth and property to various musical organizations, seldom checked his own bank balance, and showed no concern when he once lost a vast sum of money in an investment gaffe. He answered fan mail regularly, and seldom refused an opportunity to help a young musician – professionally or financially – if the suggestion came from a trusted source.
Brahms met Tchaikovsky almost by accident during a music festival. Brahms was fond of Tchaikovsky and said pleasant things about his music; Tchaikovsky, notoriously uptight and judgmental of himself and others, did not return the sentiment, and later spoke of Brahms as a talentless hack who drank too much. Their personalities clashed violently, but only the Russian master seemed to be aware of it and bothered by it.
It is conceivable that among the well-known composers of the 19th century, none surpassed Brahms in scholarly knowledge and artistic mastery of pre-classical procedures and forms. His contrapuntal skill was extraordinary, at times jaw-dropping in its effortlessness, and he delighted in burying intricately wrought canons within his music, seldom overtly displaying his skill except in certain formal choral works and isolated passages elsewhere.
The city of Vienna came to life in celebration of Brahms’ 60th birthday. Quite embarrassed at the prospect, he secretly fled with a friend to Sicily and sent thank-you cards and telegrams back to Vienna. He spent his actual birthday taking care of his friend’s ankle after it was twisted in a fall.
When Brahms fell into his last illness he grew concerned that he was rapidly losing weight. His longtime landlady Celestine Truxa would secretly take in the seams of his clothes to alleviate this concern.
Brahms wrote no music in the last months of his life, but his final composition had been an organ prelude on the Lutheran chorale, “O world, I must leave thee.” He expected it to be his last, though he did not let on to others that he knew himself to be finished. When news of Brahms’ death reached Hamburg, the flags of all ships in the harbor were dropped to half mast. Like his musician father, Brahms died from cancer of the liver.
We were staring blankly at the ceiling, no one wants to break that comfortable silence.
We found ourselves, lying next to each other in your bed, inside your room— and there was only you and me.
There was butterlies in my stomach,
And I felt like, it’s a magical movie scene. That one scene we both love to watch in our favorite movie.
But maybe, it wasn’t because of that.
Maybe because, you did not undress me even you have all the opportunities to do it. You got me glued to your bedsheet but you stayed beside me and not even taking off the lock of my bracelet.
We found ourselves, drowning into a comfortable silence and we heard our heart beats in sync. That moment, I guess, we both did not think about how messy the formation of the world is. We did not care how shitty the traffic outside that probably annoyed each and every person in the streets. It was pouring and the sound of the rain was alarming— but I almost can’t hear any drops. My thoughts, was focused on you.
We kept a safe distance—
Approximately, an inch or two.
But I still felt the warmth of your skin and I can almost count your sighs.
“Why is it like this?” You said. Finally breaking the silence.
I turned my head to look at you. “What?”
You paused for a while and blinked twice. “No matter how I stop myself, I can’t refuse kissing you.”
Those two words tamed my already panicking heart.
Then there’s the flashback.
When we said,
That’s our off limit—
Crossing the line.
But whenever I tell him a story, or whenever we laugh together, it will always end up in this:
He will stop and stare at me.
I will notice it and look at him as I wrinkle my forehead.
He will shook his head and smile.
I will smile back at him.
Then there’s the kiss—
Until we remember that we shouldn’t be doing that— well, because, uh.
“Why is it like this?” I heard him asked again.
I shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“Why’d you kiss back?” He asked.
Because I want it. I want you kissing me. I want you making me feel that there’s something I should hold on to, when all we are about is uncertainty. I want to see you close your eyes while you move your lips and I like how it taste. I like how something so bad felt so good to me.
That’s everything I wanted to say,
That’s everything I can’t say.
So I just settled it in a “I don’t know.” Statement. Because it’s easier that telling him everything and using the wrong words that could make our situatiom worst.
“What are we? This?” He asked.
My heart kept on skipping it’s beat everytime he drops another question like it’s a bomb about to explode inside me.
What are we?
That’s one question I had been asking myself and I’ve been eager to ask him. What is this?
I blinked twice. “We are…” I paused. Because I don’t know what to say— if I say anything, that would be our label. It’s like, I am forced to put my self into a place in his life but I am not sure if I am allowed to. “I don’t know.” I continued. Because again, it’s easier to say.
“You don’t have a feelings for me, right?” He asked.
I was almost palpitating. I am in between telling the truth and saying lies. But when he looked at me, and I saw uncertainty, I just knew what to say.
I shook my head. “I don’t.”
I shook my head and said, I don’t have feelings for him. My inner self was laughing hard an sarcastically while crying the shit out of me. My whole system was at protest against my answer. But I had to guard everything by “I don’t” because it’s a safer lock than saying “I want to be yours.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. That’s good.”
Now it’s time for my bomb.
“How about you? You don’t have feelings for me, right?” I finally asked. But my heart is in the middle of tearing up and hold it together. I held my breathe.
He looked at me deeply. Eyes on my eyes— like he was examining if there’s something aching inside me. But I’m good in hiding so he probably did not notice.
Please tell me, we are possible.
That we can happen.
That this, us, we are something for keeps. That I am for keeps.
That was my hopes and wishes.
But he stayed silent and stare at me deeper like he was digging holes into my soul and filling each of his presence. It’s scary because it makes me want him even more.
“I… Ah… I don’t.” He answered. “I don’t know.”
I knew that you’ll say that. But I was still hoping that you won’t. But expectation is reality in this game called “us”.
Again, there was silence.
My heart was bleeding and aching I almost want to cry.
But I smiled.
Because it’s easier that explaining why it hurts.
OKAY MY ART TEACHER WAS GIVING ASSEMBLY TODAY AND SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT HOW WHEN SHE WAS IN ART SCHOOL SHE WANTED TO START A DRAMA SOCIETY AND SHE WENT TO THE STUDENT COUNCIL AND ASKED FOR SOME MONEY AND THEY WERE ALL “WE DON’T TRUST YOU ART STUDENTS WITH MONEY” AND SHE ASKED WHY AND THEY SAID THAT THE YEAR BEFORE SOME STUDENT HAD GOT A LOAD OF MONEY AND THEN BLOWN IT ALL AND NEVER PAID IT BACK AND GUESS WHAT THAT RANDOM STUDENT WAS FRICKING PETER CAPALDI MY ART TEACHER KNEW DOCTOR WHO AND HE WAS AN ARSEHOLE I AM DONE
1. Chansung was tone deaf when he auditioned for JYP. He had never considered being a musician because of his tone deafness. But he worked really hard to be a better musician.
2. Usually security is not allowed to talk to idols unless the idol asks them something. During their tour in Indonesia, security guards would stay quiet most of the time however Taecyeon initiated conversation with security staff and talked with them…a lot!
3. Jun.K is a perfectionist. Not saying it cause he produces/ composes and writes 2PM’s songs. If he is there, he will make sure every performance is exactly the way he wants it to be. Often times in concerts, staff has to change stage acts because he wanted it to be done a certain way. In a fairly recent interview he mentioned that he was correcting and redoing takes during his MV making to the point where the director said that he should go ahead and direct the video himself. 😜
4. No surprise now but Nichkhun and Junho are the most quiet members among 2PM. And the member who interacts with fans at fanmeetings or fansigns the most is Jun.K. He talks to fans easily and isn’t as shy at first as the other members are.
Minor anecdote: I saw Paul Foot at Kings Cross/St Pancras station the day I came back from Paris. I saw him with his suitcases and I knew I recognised him from Never Mind the Buzzcocks, I just couldn’t for the life of me remember what his name was. Until now.
A few months ago, Mom bought me a twin sized bed for my new apartment. My old bedroom, albeit smaller than my apartments’, had a queen sized bed. It never came across as weird, but now that reality has presented two situations worth comparing, I had to ask my mom.
Me: Mom, why did you buy me a Queen sized bed? My room at home is so small… I mean, it probably didn’t make sense to buy me such a big bed, right? A smaller bed could have saved so much more space. (My brother and sister also have queen sized beds. And they share a room. Yeah, it’s pretty cramped in there).
Mom: laughs sheepishly. You’re right… but when you guys were young, I was afraid ya’ll would roll out of the twin sized bed and hit the ground. So instead, I bought queen sized beds.
And this is made me realized how such a simple explanation revealed mom’s complex and borderline - obsessive behavior to protect us. My mom has always been a step (or two) ahead in making sure me, my sister and brother will stay out of harm. From little things like making sure I get my eight cups of water a day, to sacrificing her time to give us rides to places so we didn’t have to take the bus … she has always been there to make sure we could have it easier.
After hearing her response, it pained me a little. When will she learn to let us go, so we could face the harsher realities of the world? I guess it’s not for me to say, but for her to decide. It’s a mother’s intuition that I have yet to comprehend.
Nevertheless, I love you, mom. As I grow older, I feel like I understand you more. Perhaps we are both understanding each other more. I hope so.
1) Because of his weak eyesight , Taecyeon was considered ineligible for the compulsory two year military duty. But he, purposely, underwent eye surgery in order to be able to carry out military service. After three attempts, he was finally given approval to perform the two year military service. He also terminated his US green card to be able to carry out this responsibility.
2) At musicbank in 2013, Junho bought lunch for 300 attending fans as he promised on twitter. The card on those lunch boxes read “2PM ❤Hottests”.
3) Junho often asks fans if they have eaten. (It is a common thing to ask to show that you are concerned for the other’s well being).
4) Junho (still) can’t really get over the fact that some fans hide their faces from them (on fansigns or upclose) because of the complex about appearance. [His face goes like… “What is this…? Ah, shy … Okay… But…” ]
my family went to a group BBQ once and there was a hula hooping contest and i won because i managed to gyrate for 40 minutes straight without the hoop ever dropping and someone quipped “she’s going to make a man really happy one day” and everyone laughed but i was also 9 years old at the time so that was kinda messed up
At work today, I saw someone who was rather handsome. He was looking for a change of pace. Someone referred him to me. I have to ask questions to gauge his interest in the field. I asked how old he was. He said 18. Bruuuuuuuuuh. I immediately shut all of that shit down. He. Looks. So. Much. Older. But a young thug is not out here living that cougar life. Give me about 8 years, though. Then I’m gonna be like 👀