heart like a loudspeaker

We chased the sunset down this evening.

Thu, 23 May 2013 21:44:00 -0500

We chased the sunset down this evening.

Sweet sweet sweet Ireland, I miss you so.

Fri, 17 May 2013 23:13:11 -0500

Sweet sweet sweet Ireland, I miss you so.

keys to surviving the music industry.

Wed, 17 Apr 2013 01:12:46 -0500

I am TIRED of politics in the music industry.

There are ways to survive the music industry, I am SURE of it, and I think that they are these things:

1. Be a decent human being.

It is not that difficult to be a genuinely nice person. Scrap the this person can give me this mentality, and just do your job. Do it well. Find things in people that you like instead of finding things in people that are hurtful. Stop talking behind people’s backs. Stop fighting to climb to the top. Just be a nice person.

2. Stop using people.

People are not meant to be used. People are meant to be loved. So many people think of the industry as a means to propel themselves to the top of the food chain and don’t think about what they do to get there. It is obviously transparent when you are only talked to when a company is in desperate need of an boost or when you are the key to their “in”. Stop. Just stop. No matter who you sleep with, who you step on, who you spread rumors about, the top is pretty lonely if you are there by yourself.

3. Serve people.

The music industry is really good at giving you an ego boost (or occasionally, a self-esteem issue, but we don’t talk about that). It is RIDICULOUSLY important to know that when people are cared for, they return the favor. Things can get really stressful when people forget that they are one of many, and the show only goes on with a team. This is not an industry where you do things by yourself. Don’t forget it.

4. Cultivate relationships.

If you are not friends, YOU ARE NOT FRIENDS. Anyone can tell when someone is trying to use you as a connection. But in the same respect, anyone can tell when a real relationship is blossoming. There is a beauty in that - why shouldn’t it be the same in the music industry?

There are so many things that fit here and there and in between these points. But let’s sum these things up: be authentic.

Please.

For the sake of everyone.

At the sold out show with The Lone Bellow. There are no words to...

Sat, 06 Apr 2013 21:35:13 -0500

At the sold out show with The Lone Bellow. There are no words to describe how amazing this is. (at Exit/In)

#Autumn in #London. #tbt

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 12:15:38 -0500

#Autumn in #London. #tbt

Photo

Sun, 31 Mar 2013 01:35:39 -0500

Spring.

Wed, 27 Mar 2013 18:04:31 -0500

Spring.

We enter a little coffeehouse with a friend of mine and give...

Wed, 27 Mar 2013 13:08:17 -0500

We enter a little coffeehouse with a friend of mine and give our order. While we’re aproaching our table two people come in and they go to the counter:
‘Five coffees, please. Two of them for us and three suspended’ They pay for their order, take the two and leave.

I ask my friend: “What are those ‘suspended’ coffees?”
My friend: “Wait for it and you will see.”

Some more people enter. Two girls ask for one coffee each, pay and go. The next order was for seven coffees and it was made by three lawyers - three for them and four ‘suspended’. While I still wonder what’s the deal with those ‘suspended’ coffees I enjoy the sunny weather and the beautiful view towards the square infront of the café. Suddenly a man dressed in shabby clothes who looks like a beggar comes in throught the door and kindly asks
‘Do you have a suspended coffee ?’

It’s simple - people pay in advance for a coffee meant for someone who can not afford a warm bevarage. The tradition with the suspended coffees started in Naples, but it has spread all over the world and in some places you can order not only a suspended coffee, but also a sandwitch or a whole meal.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have such cafés or even grocery stores in every town where the less fortunate will find hope and support ? If you own a business why don’t you offer it to your clients… I am sure many of them will like it.

Source : [x]

Nashville, how has no one caught onto this idea?! This is beautiful.

#Snowy day and wintery trees and lovely gazebos. Enough to make...

Tue, 26 Mar 2013 10:53:40 -0500

#Snowy day and wintery trees and lovely gazebos. Enough to make you stop and stare.

"There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that..."

Mon, 25 Mar 2013 23:07:54 -0500

“There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.”

- Diana Cortes (via intuire)

Don’t mind me, just remembering when I got to walk through...

Sun, 24 Mar 2013 00:07:00 -0500

Don’t mind me, just remembering when I got to walk through doors like this and pretend I was in Narnia.

Made a wish on my fake 21st birthday when I fake celebrated with my family. But the real wish came...

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 21:53:54 -0500

Made a wish on my fake 21st birthday when I fake celebrated with my family. But the real wish came true in the last few weeks, & I just realized it. Here’s to 21 (almost).

Sometimes you need days full of bubble baths and pretty things....

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 21:11:00 -0500

Sometimes you need days full of bubble baths and pretty things. My apartment smells like pomegranate.

This song is killing me. Between the weirdest electronic pop and...

Sat, 23 Mar 2013 14:45:00 -0500

This song is killing me. Between the weirdest electronic pop and the most raw and honest words, this song is so ridiculously beautiful.

Why won’t you speak

Where I happen to be

Silent in the trees

Standing cowardly

It has been on repeat for the last twenty minutes. Anyone that wants to discover music that is incredible and can’t totally be labeled, this is for you.

I want to know you/I want to see

Sometimes I open my Bible to realize my best friend photoshopped...

Thu, 21 Mar 2013 12:56:00 -0500

Sometimes I open my Bible to realize my best friend photoshopped me into a bookmark where I am the Queen of England.

stories i forgot to tell.

Thu, 21 Mar 2013 00:09:00 -0500

I was flipping through my iPhone notes yesterday and a flood of memories came back.

Here’s the thing: I have this habit of forgetting things that I think are really important, so I generally open up a note on my iPhone and jot names and places down with no context whatsoever. So then I forget about that (figures) and go on about my life. But I have way too many of them on my phone.

So on St. Patrick’s Day I somehow, only by the humour (I like the spelling, deal with it) of God, I ended up sitting in the middle of the Ryman auditorium listening to Irish music and meeting a bunch of people from Northern Ireland, which is making me ache to be back in the UK that much more. Also my awkwardness increases by about 500% when I meet someone from the UK, because I know I won’t shut up about it, so I generally say nothing, which ends up being more awkward. So that’s my life.

Anyway. I was sitting on the edge of my bed talking about this heartache and about Irish adventures to my friend Anna. The thing about a trip like the one I had is that if you don’t talk about it, you forget the intricacies and things that made it beautiful. I remembered the big picture, but the details were escaping me, and I never did write them down.

Flipping through my iPhone notes, I found a jumble of things I had written down in the excitement of the night:

Teddys.

Luke.

Jenny Watts.

Craig and Phil.

I stared at the words I had written down for a minute and tried to recollect the memory and this is the story that had to be told:

Meg and I had just woken up in the middle of Belfast on a Sunday morning after a night of drunken Irishmen singing us songs at our hostel at 4am, so we were a bit exhausted, but braved it anyway. Sunday mornings, nothing tends to be open much at all, so we wandered aimlessly around Belfast in the early morning hours.

Belfast really is charming. It is. But Meg, a Brit, and me, an American, knew nothing about it and had no one to explain the area to us much at all. We had come right after the unionist riots, so we were a little apprehensive about where to walk and what to explore - the day had slowly turned into an adventure: we did the Titanic Museum, walked the River Lagan, pretended to kiss the biggest statue of a fish I’ve seen in my life, and ran into the Coca-Cola truck. But come 2pm, we were pretty bored.

I was pretty determined to meet people, because that’s how I operate. I felt like the trip would have be much less successful and I couldn’t tell a single story about Ireland from an Irish person’s perspective. We walked into a visitor’s center and asked about the area around Belfast, and where we could catch a train pretty easily.

The man recommended the sea shores of Bangor.

Needless to say, Meg and I hopped on a train and took a 40 minute trip out to Bangor. What we didn’t take into account was the fact that the sun was going to set - we got into Bangor just as the sun went down, so our hopes of seeing the loveliness of the sea from the cliffs were about dead.

At this point in the trip, I was a little frustrated, but we decided to make the best of it. Embracing my awkwardness, I walked into a Boots (the UK’s version of something like a Walgreens) and went up to the register.

“Hey, uh. So, we’re looking for a place to eat around here,” I let stumble out of my mouth. “Do you guys have any recommendations?”

From the people that thought I needed help buying shampoo, I think they were a little bit amused that neither Meg or I were Irish, and there was an 18 or 19 year old kid named Luke that came to our rescue.

“TEDDY’S!” He blurted out, then looked at the two other workers. They grinned at him and the blonde looked at us: “I was just going to recommend that.”

Luke took the opportunity to tell me about how his school had just come back from a trip to Washington, D.C: “I want to move there, really. I like America, I really do.” I was just incredibly amazed at the kindness that the whole store had shown us at that point. “Here! I can walk out a bit with you and show you where it is.”

We got directions to Teddy’s and went in only to see the quietest, loveliest atmosphere. The lights were low, the music was light, and our waiter was the kindest. He took the time to tell us about the town, about the people, and in turn, we told him about how in the world we had ended up in the tiny little town of Bangor. The food was the best Meg and I had had in a while (we had been munching on hostel food for quite a bit), but we didn’t want to leave Bangor just yet. It was only about 8pm, and we had quite intentionally meant to stay for a bit. We asked the waiter if he had any recommendations (since it tended to work so well, really. If you go somewhere foreign, figure out what the locals like, because I guarantee it is the best), and he suggested Jenny Watts - the oldest pub in town.

The place was so lovely. I just knew that we had chosen the right place - the tables were sectioned off into intimate corners, where Meg and I could catch up on the happenings of the day over a quarter bottle of wine (they come bottled so perfectly small). There were a group of guys next to us that needless to say, we didn’t feel quite comfortable around, and gave us a hassle over a pound that they offered us. As we got up to go, they got up to go, and I made Meg sit back down. We let them leave and decided to take the opportunity to talk to the bar (pub?) tenders.

That night we met maybe the nicest people I have ever met in my life. We spent the next twenty-thirty minutes conversing with Craig and Phil about the area, about different musicians that had come out of the area (Two Door Cinema Club, Snow Patrol), about how they had ended up working at the pub. There was a lot of laughter and a lot of kindness, and the day that had begun as chaos had turned into one of the most memorable moments of craic that we had in the middle of Ireland.

I miss it. I miss it a lot. But it is little moments like finding notes on my iPhone that bring pieces of it back to me, and those are good moments.

Six months later and I am still dreaming about you almost every night. Can you stop?

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 06:44:00 -0500

Six months later and I am still dreaming about you almost every night.

Can you stop?

Photo

Tue, 19 Mar 2013 22:58:57 -0500

Goals for life.

Tue, 19 Mar 2013 22:47:48 -0500

Goals for life.

fight.

Sun, 17 Mar 2013 23:55:18 -0500

I have the hardest time understanding stillness sometimes.

My personality is one to try and make things happen, really. It’s driven and assertive and sometimes it’s a good thing and sometimes a bad thing; regardless, I rarely sit down in stillness.

My life is full of music, full of construction down the street, full of phone calls and missed text messages, full of calling people back, full of telling the whole world my story and sometimes being obnoxious (working on that, but at least I recognize it, right?), full of noise.

I went home last week for spring break, and after going out to dinner with my family, arrived home only to step out of the car and into my backyard. There was pure silence and while I was shivering, I looked up to see the sky and its stars looking the most beautiful in the world. It felt like I had a moment with God where he reminded me of promises like he had given Abraham. The same stillness was found in enjoying drinks around a campfire with family and sitting in an overwhelming peace, knowing that things were lovely at that moment exactly and things in the midst of chaos would be okay.

There was something about this weekend, too - laying on the grass in the middle of Belmont’s field with the sunshine streaming onto my face was the most beautiful feeling in the world. The wind was a reminder of God’s goodness in the middle of the scorching heat.

There’s a verse that keeps recurring in my life and it is so wonderful that I want everyone to know about it: The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. It’s a verse in Exodus (14:14, if you’d like to know), and I find myself in this position way too often where I believe that God’s efforts toward me are reflective of what I can do or not do for him. It’s a concept that has been drilled into me since I was a kid, but the simplicity of this verse is striking.

I need only to be still, and the Lord is still fighting for me.

So simple and so full of hope.