We haven’t talked for such a long time, I can’t even recall the exact sound of your voice. I don’t remember your laugh - I remember the crinkles by your eyes and that dimple on your cheek and how it deepens - but I don’t know what it feels like to hear it, how it once made my heart swell in my chest, not anymore. And yet I’m sure that if I heard a million people laugh, yours would still stand out to me and maybe I’d turn around to look for the source and wonder how something so simple is enough to make my blood sing. We miss the memories, not the person, is what my father used to say, but how can he explain why I drop everything when I hear that one song we used to dance to and why that blue sweater you borrowed me still sits at the bottom of my closet when I could have thrown it away? How does missing someone make any sense when that person is still around, is somehow still a part of your life? How am I supposed to get over that? How does anyone?
“You’re bright and joyful and so many people are cynical. They won’t understand you and they won’t understand me. But the only way they win is if your tears turn to stone and make you bitter like them. It’s okay to ask why. It’s okay to wonder how you could try so hard and still get stomped all over. Just don’t let them change you or stop you from singing or dancing around to your favorite song.”
i want video calls until midnight. i want to hear you sing our favorite song. i want to tell you you’re beautiful, because its true. i want you to message me a lot and show me you care. i want to laugh out loud with the things you say, and smile so much that i have to hide it so people wont notice. i want to make your days a little better. allow me to make you happy. let me love you.
They tell me not to write love poems.
They say, Black people have no time.
The revolution needs protest songs and bleeding banners
and chants that will resurrect
They say there is nothing revolutionary about black love.
But more black girls die from invisibility
than from gunshots.
We can’t find our own reflections -
because when the world lives like we don’t exist,
eventually we believe it too.
But what is more revolutionary than two forgotten people
drawing each other back into reality?
The way you love her is your revolution. Darling, won’t you sing about it?
Most people want a fancy house lots of money a successful career don’t get me wrong all of those things would be nice but all I really want is you to still be there in 60 years grabbing my hand pulling me close slow dancing in the living room as you sing me your favorite song
why the hell are you guys telling us to fucking educate some damn 21-26 year old women? are you kidding me ? like kpop idols are so engrossed in the media that they should know by now !! it’s 2017 ! not the fucking 60’s . why is it so hard to sing a song without taking it too fucking far ? darkening your skin for comedic value is demeaning to people who are ridiculed for that shit everyday . a big fuck you to the guys depending them .. shit gets old
Psalm 137:3- for there our captors asked us for songs, our tormentors demanded songs of joy; they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” People around us expect us to be always joyful, even when our hearts are sad. They try to cheer us, change our mood by doing things for us. But it doesn’t always help. “Get over it,” they may say. Better said than done. What do we do when no one understand our pain? There is a place of quiet retreat…Psalm 119:50 says, “This is my comfort in my affliction: that Your word has revived me and given me life.” God through His word revives us, comforts us and brings life and joy and peace back in our soul. If you are depressed or sad, go to God and His word, and receive His comfort.
“People cut other people down for entertainment, amusement, out of jealousy, because of something broken inside them. Or for no reason at all. It’s just what they do, and you’re a target because you live your life loudly and boldly. You’re bright and joyful and so many people are cynical. They won’t understand you and they won’t understand me. But the only way they win is if your tears turn to stone and make you bitter like them. It’s okay to ask why. It’s okay to wonder how you could try so hard and still get stomped all over. Just don’t let them change you or stop you from singing or dancing around to your favorite song. (…) Every time someone picks on me, I’ll think of you in the hopes that every time someone picks on you, you’ll think of me… and how we have this thread that connects us. Let them keep living in the darkness and we’ll keep walking in the sunlight.
With the close of TVD as a series, I’m forced to evaluate my relationship with Bamon. Bamon not only introduced me to character attachments off-screen, this show made me pursue screenwriting as a profession. This show followed me through my turbulent college years and into adulthood where I have amazing friends that I’ve found through the Bamon community. So before I call this the end or an era for Bamon fans, I’d like to give the Bamily something in return besides the Bamon Fan Song. I just have a question first because I think we deserve a little something extra for all we’ve been through.
Bamily, do you want an ENTIRE BAMON ALBUM to commemorate our ship?
Hey y'all, I realize I should probably be doing special stuff for these follower milestones. Unfortunately, I hadn’t expected to pass 100 followers so quickly, so I don’t have anything planned….
Since I’m always singing as a hobby and am at school as a vocal major, I have this proposition for all of you lovely people! ; )
Once we hit 250 followers, I will post a recording of me singing for y'all! Of course, you can totally suggest songs for me through comments or reblogs, I’m open to your suggestions! :3
What do you guys think? Let me know, and let’s reach that goal soon! (=ﾟωﾟ)ﾉ
Some highlights from my freshman writing class today (we’re talking about critical reading/analysis in lit and film and I assigned each group a song/music video to study).
1. The horrified expressions on people’s faces when they read through and then had to talk about the implication of Robin Thicke’s Blurred Lines lyrics. Direct quotes: “Oh my god. I’ve been singing a rape song” and, “well now that song is ruined forever for me.”
2. Listening to 3 white kids attempt to deconstruct Beyonce’s Formation. Direct quotes: "Is this in English?” “I don’t understand, is hot sauce supposed to stand for like, pepper spray during police brutality?” “Why is she sitting on a drowning cop car?” “How does she do that without hurting her neck?”
3. General horror at Pumped up Kicks by Foster the People.