New Paramore Album! A little late on the announcements, but it's okay, one of my awesome brothers got it for me, and I've been absolutely infatuated with it. Whenever I haven't had time to do anything, I'd end up passing out to it on my bed, and it almost always ends before I wake up.
I tried to set it so that it'd loop, but sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn't.
Day of Silence
April 19. It's a simple and trivial thing to do in certain perspectives, but to me, at least, it's a personal reminder of the changes that I aim to make in the world. Not specifically ending any matters of bullying or contending the suicides that spurn from these incidents and what have you, because I have a bigger checklist than just those notions, but it's a reminder, nonetheless.
To be a better person to all of the people around me, if not for myself, then for them.
There's always one person you see during each day of your life who needs some cheering up for whatever reason it is.
I know a handful of people who I see almost every day who rightfully and righteously retain this attribute of easy-going, complacent and genial personality. And, as I always say, I learn something from just about every individual I ever encounter in my life.
I half-observed the cause, starting officially after I was reminded from the attire of another individual observing it. Albeit, I didn't speak much during the day anyhow, it pieced together through the latter of the day. And observing the cause was never about bragging rights or for any particular reason other than to observe it.
Like people who are in love observe Valentine's Day, or people who are alive celebrate for the New Year.
Simple, right?
So, my friends and I have been through hell and back. The school year for my first year in University is coming to a close, and I'm in Tech Crew for the last musical of the season; meaning I'm one of the people who are backstage moving set pieces and what have you. It's my first time doing this, too, so it's very... on-your-feet. Though, it is tedious and strenuous, there are the people on headsets who are always on edge, always attempting to reign in the people they're divided to in order to have the show run smoothly.
Thankfully, they're more experienced than I am, so all of their confidence is outweighing my trepidation of making mistakes. Plus, after a while, there's a swing to fall into.
The environment of the musical's a bit awry to me: these are people who I, to say the least, am amazed by. Every single one of them, whether I'm close with them or not, because when they're on that stage, they capture even more attention than when they do off of it. And the director and those at his immediate flank are like a furious machine that powers at the head of this project.
I see it looking pretty awesome in the future.
What else?
You guys know how I make music and stuff like that, right?
Well, there's this friend I have, we've gotten really close in the less-than-year-span I've known her. She's an amazing person and we sat down the other day and just cranked out a song. Of course, it was rough, and we panned through it to fix the patches, but it's gorgeous. And then she helped me rekindle my drive for songwriting; finding melodies, altering moods and going outside of my comfort zone with certain songs.
Miss Milika Cherée, you are something else. I'm honored to know such talented people, you being included with the nameless others.
I wanted to do a bit of freelance writing for today, but I felt a bit of a cordial briefing on my life, for those who visit regularly and were missing this or whatever, might have appreciated.
Gonna wait for the song to replay. It's at the intense part, which, if you weren't expecting from the initial mellow drive, I wasn't either. Just because Paramore's new album is more of a different sound for them. But, like always, always loving them and learning every word to every song.
It's a little hard when you're not speaking during the day, though.
-
Pebbles and dust. Sandals separate the flesh, callous or soft is indeterminable, but the sandals separate the flesh.
The flesh is full and vibrant - alive.
A thread dangles, its tip gracefully lapping at the few pebbles that are kicked up from the tail of the sandal, each step stirring the gravel underneath further.
The scent of cold.
With it comes the sight of gravity: a leaf cascades from the graying skies, the conclusive shades upon the undersides of the clouds making them more friendly than ominous - making them more oppressed than oppressive.
Through these senses, the mind can hear.
Each step grows louder and louder. Each step soon is coupled by a breath, littering the scent of the cold with the concussive explosions of respiration - in and out. In and out.
From the sky, the head of brown hair, the head of black hair, the head of red hair, the head of blond hair, and the head with no hair all are angled downward.
First comes the black to stray from the path. To the right it veers, grass blades soon succumbing to the weight of a body and giving way to the rhythmic patting of the sandals.
Immediately after, the brown and red stop sharply. Brown turns after the black, though the red remains in place.
The hairless head is stuck to wait after the head of blond hair, which is stuck to wait behind the head of red hair.
"Their eyes are closed. Their lips are sealed.Their hearts are bound, sunken truths revealed."
It is voiced by the whispers of the leaves as they are bent to the whim of the trees; of the pebbles as they are forced to grit against one another; of the threads of hair as they are buffeted by the wind; of the jumping of the flesh in spots where the pulse is noteworthy.
Most certainly, this song they have thought, in chorus, is voiced by the very beating of their hearts and the trains of their minds.
For now, the red, blond and hairless sway from side to side as does our innate orientation of balance.
Back comes the brown, with black in tow. They do not touch each other, nor have they pried open their eyes once. Back into place they shift, and once the last foot has settled, they breathe concurrently, lifting their left foot first.
The head of brown hair weaves opposite in the pattern, stepping forth on the right.
As it once had when it first strayed from the line.
A cough erupts from the rear of the line.
To the left steps the red and to the right steps the blond. The brown and black halt. Only the hairless takes four steps forth, passing through the passage created by the red and blond, only to reconvene the movement.
Forth brown. Forth black. Forth bald. Rejoins red and blond, stepping back into line, their foots syncopating with the rest of the chorus.
Eventually, they tire of their seemingly idle sojourn, slowing in pace, but the only true, constant happenstance is the cough that erupts from the lungs of the hairless head.
Once they've come to a speed that puts the hairless head at a disproportionate distance to the head of brown hair before it, the group rears forward in a halt.
Their faces turn skyward, two heads of hair rolling over their round, naked shoulders and revealing their vulnerable countenances.
The first drop of rain hits the red-head's face, garnering a flinch.
A smile slowly creeps through the muscles.
It's tacit and contagious - unseen, but injected into the atmosphere: it's a feeling that goes unspoken.
The hiss of light downpour whispers against the wind.
And smiles beam from the rest of their faces.
<3 ~ Monty.
=]
