so just a while ago i busied myself with recording my cover of this particular song, and as usual, i had unnecessarily high standards for myself again
which causes me to make bad recordings
and sing/play songs in a very nervous-perfectionist manner
but for the first time in a long time
after running through this particular song for the nth time this morning
i told myself,
"… w-wow. i actually played naturally and sang naturally there. th-that… that was brilliant. i felt at one with the song.”
imagine the rage i felt when i learned that i accidentally switched my earphone mic on during the recording.
no, no. i use my laptop mic, normally.
no, no. the earphone mic does. not. record. any. sound.
HUHUHUHUHIHUHKJFHAKHFKAHFKAJFH I think my mo(u)rning wails woke my parents up :(
stop taking my photo
21 ON 21!!!!
I’LL TRY TO MAKE THIS THE BEST YEAR I’VE EVER LIVED (SO FAR) BECAUSE THAT’D BE AWESOME OKAY
The night unfolded rather oddly, but I enjoyed it all the same. Even more than I thought I would’ve.
I needed to hear those things— I needed to be reminded of where I’m at and how large my scope of worry should be. I needed to be reminded that I can trust people in terms of how they handle (acidic) emotions I, for one, revel in writing about. I needed to be reminded that I’m not a horrible person just because of what I feel or cannot feel, or just because I can and cannot give certain things or be certain things— as much as I’d want to make everyone happy, I needed [and need] to be reminded that it’s absolutely fine to not be able to do what is expected of you to make someone smile (—or am I really not horrible this way? JK huhu I should stop doubting this every so often ;_; agh sorry I have a huge problem with this, I guess).
Finally, it feels good to know that people have my back, that I have (brutally) honest people who will support me (and maybe slap me if and when I do something stupid, but hey, “Friends stab you in the front.”), no matter what happens, and this assures me that everything will be alright.
Ahhhh finally, I feel pretty much… okay. Yeah. Pleasant, actually.
I’ve been worrying about a lot of useless things lately, sorry.
This back and forth on this whole Ferguson debacle is ridiculous. I don’t care how you feel about race, the cops, or any number of other things.
Can we not, as adults, agree that the shooting of an 18 year old kid, 6 times, is ludicrous? Maybe the boy did just rob a store, maybe he was fucking with a cop, but that is no reason to execute someone.
He was 18. We all did stupid shit at 18. We may of not been robbing stores, but I’d bet money 90% of us were doing something illegal. I know I did plenty of stupid crap. No one deserves to be shot by the cops for that.
They are given pepper spray and tazers for a reason. Non lethal alternatives to subdue someone. He had these on hand, and instead decided to unload the majority of his clip.
No matter what stance you have on politics, we should agree cops are not judge, jury, and executioner. They are here to serve, not live out a power fantasy.
Ways you can help:
Currently, my life feels like one of those episodes of those supposedly comedic shows where everything goes fine and dandy but the end somehow takes a dramatic turn to tears and sadness but you’re kind of forced to feel good about it because it was intended as a “happy end” because everyone in the show ends up smiling and “learning” and maturing in some way due to some realization that wouldn’t have been possible if not for whatever sad and irreparable thing that happened… and you know you’re supposed to feel good because it’s actually a brilliant episode, and, again, it’s a comedy, so you’re really supposed to feel good about it, so you try to feel good, but you don’t, and then it gets worse when the scene before the credits shows a little something that goes along the lines of “For Gabriel, 1984-2014” followed by some phrase or some significant word from the episode (which now, seeing this, you think is odd because you now realize that there could be a whole different context this phrase/word came from and you feel like you’re violating the dead’s memory a bit by knowing about this word or phrase that’s supposed to be solely his and his loved ones’ thing), with his photo fading into the scene and more words of gratitude appearing along with it. And then the short scene ends, then the credits roll by and you’re left with all these feelings, and you’re just feeling all of them so immensely that you. just. don’t. want. to. move. anymore. And you just want to be left alone for some reason. And you don’t really know whether whatever you’re feeling is a good or bad thing, either. All you know is, you just want to be left alone. And stare into the wall a bit, maybe.