#and so yeah ive been feeling like sh--crap for a while

[crymeariveronceagain]

fun things about me: i try to be confident and then sometimes i feel like i screw up and then i think about it for days on end wondering if i've ruined someone's life or even just their day even though they're no longer thinking about me

[sanderssides-fics]

A special haven (CHAPTER 1)

Ship: analogical Plot: anxiety is an ever-returning mental health patient; Logan is his nurse. Warnings: mentions of suicide, self harm,  drugs, and alcohol. A/N: guys I promise this is generally sweet.

@analogically-prinxiety @the-prince-and-the-emo @the-sanders-sides @softlogic @dan-yuna @polysandershell (dunno if you'd like to be tagged in my stupid writing but saw you answer an Anon about others being able to tag you in stuff so yeah uh I'll shut up now haha) ________1________

Anxiety winced as the doctor fixed his iv into his arm. “This is your third time here this month” she said concerned, Doctor Alice had been 1 of 2 doctors that came to him, the other was her sister Doctor Emelia but she was at her wedding.

“I know, things just aren’t the best” Anxiety spoke in a quiet voice, looking anywhere but at Dr.Alice.

“Well I know you won’t open up to me about any of that, I’m guessing you want your usual” Dr.Alice had a teasing tone in her smooth voice, she tucked her pen behind her ear and her blonde phone cord curls covered it seconds later. Anxiety just nodded with a small blush, She left a minute later and Anxiety looked around the familiar room. He just start paying rent he was here so often, room 17, floor 2, East wing. The only room on the floor without a window, Anxiety had requested he moved out of his windowed room he was first put in when he first came here. The window was too bright compared to his dark life.

“Good morrow Anxiety” the sweet, buttery smooth voice of his favourite and only nurse filled Anxiety’s depressed ears. Anxiety perked up a little bit as nurse Logan sat on the edge of the bed, just a small ‘hello’ smile. “Third time this month, first was from a major attack, 2nd was an alcohol poisoning due to…”

“My brother um outed me to the whole school” Anxiety whimpered nervously, Logan was very familiar with Anxiety’s sexuality as Anxiety came out to him on accident while under anesthesia intoxication. Logan was a venting system for Anxiety’s issues and he was okay with that because it was his job and honestly, Anxiety was a tolerable person.

“What’d you do about that?” Logan asked, tapping a pen against his plump lips, Anx was ditracted by the motion for a minute before he swallowed and spoke. 

“Before or after what everyone else did?”

Logan frowned “both” He leant back,  allowing Anxiety time to speak when he felt strong enough. Anxiety explained that his brother outed him to Roman’s friends,  whom all proceeded to call him varying slurs and push him around, mock-flirting with him was the worse because Anxiety fell for the first Flirt. Anxiety locked himself away for all weekend after that, when he had to go to school he was beaten and made fun of all day. At the end he drowned his agony in vodka and some ibuprofen. He was back in the hospital 2 days later because his dad found him with half a bottle of gin down his throat and the other half in the kitchen sink.

Anxiety felt safe around Logan, he felt pleasant. Anxiety knew he had quite the infatuation on Logan but he’d be a fool to think it was returned.

“Roman isn’t making home a safe environment then.” Logan said referencing the time Anxiety had said that Roman was a safe person.

“Not anymore, not since Dad died” Anxiety gave in to Logan quick as always. He always gave in to Logan’s questions, he vented almost everything to Logan because he was trust worthy in Anxiety’s eyes.

“Your family is hurting you more than supporting you. Anxiety, I think you need to move into our group home. It’s much safer and it’s accepting of all sexualities, genders, and ethnicity.” Logan spoke, eyeing Anxiety carefully. This was the third time Logan asked him to move into the hospitals back building.

“No. I’m okay, I’ll live at home” Anxiety said flatly.

“But for how long, Anxiety?” Logan asked as he stood up walking over to Anxiety’s side.

“Long enough”

So it continued, Anxiety vented and made Logan discuss himself too for the 4 more hours he was there. Then Anxiety was instructed to go home, he changed into his usual sweater, Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge t-shirt, ripped black skinny jeans, and shoes. Logan handed him a card for the home. No doctors, no nurses, just a caretaker for everyone. Logan noticed Anxiety’s new emotion as he stared at the card. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re just trying to get rid of me” Anxiety threw the card down and ran out of the hospital. Logan sighed, he’d never do such a thing. He hated admitting it but he was falling for his recurring patient.

4 days later Anxiety was in ER and being treated for 3 broken ribs and a punctured lung. He was soon transferred to his room and was greeted by Logan 10 minutes later. The sight of Anxiety broke Logan’s heart. He was coated in bruises, cuts, and his chest was thickly bound in tensor bandage.

“Hey Lo! God you’re hot” Anxiety spoke in a little bit of a low voice. Logan chuckled slightly.

“Why thank you Anxiety” Logan smirked “What pain meds did they put you on?” Logan asked suspiciously. Anxiety always held these kind of thoughts inside.

“Morphine I think, why does it matter? All I know is that I’m feeling it, there’s something I’d rather be feeling though. Your lips and my lips need to meet, cause they’re a match.” Anxiety practically slurred, Logan just laughed and sat in a chair next to him.

“Why are you here today Anxiety?” Logan asked with his notebook half full with Anxiety’s history here, another notebook of it at home.

“Darren, Roman, and Josh beat me up when I got home last night. Hit me with bats and boots. They kept hitting even after I stopped fighting back.” Anxiety spoke “I tasted blood, I couldn’t breathe very well and my head hurt a lot” Anxiety finished with a small whimper.  Logan frowned and stood, hugging his patient gently. Anxiety actually hugged back best he could.

“Anxiety do you want to talk to the police and press charges on them?” Logan asked and Anxiety shook his head No,  the medicine making him sleepy. Logan told him to rest and so Anxiety did, but only after complimenting Logan again but this time-

“You’re so smart, I’m sorry I’m a pain and refuse to listen to your advice when I’m sober” Anxiety had said and Logan just smiled. He took his notebook and dimmed the lights before exiting the room, closing the door.

“You’re so smitten for him” Logan jumped and spun around, Dr.Levon next to him. The male doctor with striking genetic-deformed-yellow irises smirked at him, a foot and a half taller.

“Hush Dr.Levon” Logan groaned.

“You know I’m right, you stare at that boy with so much love and care. You seem him hurt and your heart breaks, you’re sad whether he’s in the hospital or not because if he’s not here you don’t see him but if he is here it’s because something is wrong.” Dr.Levon deciphered.

“Don’t you have a book to write?” Logan asked a little frustrated. Dr.Levon left with raised arms in defence. Logan sighed and went to the back building to prepare Anxiety his own quarters, they only had 5 people in the building other than the caretaker so everyone having their own room wasn’t a big deal. Logan didn’t care what Anxiety had to say any more, he was safer in this house than at home with his brother and as a trained medical treatment nurse he could say what was safe for one’s health.

Anxiety was awake again 5 hours later. “Where’s Nurse Logan?” Anxiety asked a female nurse who entered to check his ribs compared to his x-rays. 

“He’s gone home, his shift ended 2 hours ago” she said with a bittersweet voice “You should stay away from him actually he is wasting his time with you” she growled “You keep coming back, either you are really stupid or you’re just lovestruck and this is the only way you know how to see him” she jammed an IV in Anxiety’s arm hard causing him to scream out and blood to spurt out. “Oh crap I can’t lose my job!” She ran out of the room and Dr.Alice came in.

“Anxiety darling, calm down.” She spoke slowly and fixed the IV “What happened?”

“Sh-she called me stupid, asked if why I was always here is because I like Logan and said for me to stay away from him” Anxiety whimpered, “Then she stabbed my arm with the IV and worried about losing her job”

“That’s Logan’s ex girlfriend, he realised he didn’t like tits soon after getting together with her. Weird I know, she blames you though because they got together 2 days before you showed up the first time and he broke up with her that day.” Dr.Alice drug on and on about the stupidity of the girl. All anxiety knew was the IV was putting him to sleep and soon he was half concious and his bed was being moved. He felt the elevator, the doors open, the cool spring nighttime air, and then the familiar smell of cinnamon of the back building spice incense. He felt himself be left there for a few minutes before moved again to a room that smelt like Logan,  he questioned it before recognizing a feeling on his chest. The tie Logan wore every once in awhile had become Anxiety’s Attack-grip.  He needed something to hold on to during his attacks and Logan had generously offered his tie. A few minutes later he fully passed out.

A few hours later Anxiety woke up and noticed his IV had been taken away. Next he noticed where he was and got scared. The room held posters, a dresser, a closet, the bed he was on, and best of all only one window which was boarded up. The only light came from a leather-scented candle, the clock next to it ticked past 4. 4 what? Am or Pm?

Anxiety staggered out of the bed, half falling with his legs tangled in Satin sheets. Logan had betrayed his request and put him in the group home. Anxiety crawled on his hands and knees, it was easiest on his chest and lung, his hands bobbed over carpet, his knees squished the crocheted wasteland of greys and blues.

“Someone’s up early” Anxiety heard a voice and turned towards the door, A skinny boy stood there. No older than 10. He had thick brown hair and looked strong but deceiving. “The floor is not very comfortable” the boy helped Anxiety back on the bed. “You should get more sleep, don’t tell Vander I was up, he’d kill me” the boy went back out of the room and nd closed the door, for some reason… Anxiety listened, with Logan’s tie held tightly in his hand he drifted off.

Anxiety was woken up around 8 by the same boy. “Morning!” He giggled and then ran away from Anxiety, out the door, and down some stairs. Anxiety was so confused, but mainly he felt a strange ping of happiness at the boys energy.

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

High Women Tell No Tales-Sons of Anarchy Imagine

Requested: Yes

Warnings: some swearing and violence

A/N: it’s going to be another general imagine since not enough people voted for a particular pairing.

 All Y/N could feel was pain, a deep throbbing, annoying ache that reverberated throughout her entire body. For a second, she thought it hurt to blink, but she realized it was just her imagination. She glanced around her surroundings for a second before recognizing that the white walls and the monitor beeping next to her signaled that she was, indeed, in the local Charming hospital.

   “Crap,” she muttered.

   “Sleeping Beauty finally woke up.” Y/N winced as she turned her head slightly to see Jax sitting in the chair next to her bed. His shoulder length blonde hair was messy and his eyes had bags underneath them.

   “You look like sh-t,” Y/N said.

   “Well, I was up most of the night worrying about you, like the rest of SAMCRO,” Jax said.

    “Where are they?”

    “In the waiting room. Tara is making us take turns to see you.”

    “Sounds like her.” 

   Jax stood up, walked to Y/N, and ran a hand over her head. “What happened to you?”

   Y/N swallowed as she tried to remember what exactly had landed her in the hospital. “Me and Y/B/F/N and her roommate went to this bar near the strip. There were a lot of drinks and bikers around.”

   “Did someone in particular catch your attention?” Jax asked.

   Y/N closed her eyes and remembered a hazy, red-colored view of a large man in a biker jacket. He had stereotypical biker tattoos and he wore a dark scarf around his hair. 

    “All I know is that he smelled like Miller Light and had a deep voice.”

    “We’re gonna catch this guy, Y/N, I swear,” Jax said, anger seeping into his voice.

    “If I can remember anything. You talked to the guys in Vegas, yet?”

    “We’re waiting for an update.”

    Y/N tried to relax against the pillows but hissed in pain. “Where’s the doc with my pain meds?”     Right at that moment, Tara walked in, hands shoved into the pockets of her scrubs pants. “I’m right here and I’m guessing you are not feeling well.”

    “I want all the painkillers you have: morphine, Vicodin, whatever,” Y/N groaned.

     Tara walked over to the other side of Y/N and she examined her wounds. “Well, it looks like you’re healing up nicely but you’ll have to stay here for the next couple of days for observation.”

    “That makes me a virtual sitting duck,” Y/N said.

    “No, we have adequate security to keep you safe,” Tara said in an attempt to be comforting.

    “Whoever did this to her will probably be able to get past your security, Tara,” Jax said. “I’ll have a couple of guys stick around here to watch her.”

   “Or, someone could just give me a gun or bat and I’d be equipped to protect myself,” Y/N said.

    “No way. You are not in any condition to wield any sort of weapon let alone stand up,” Tara said.

   Y/N grumbled. “I hate hospitals.”

  “We know,” Jax said.

  “I’ll have a nurse come in with your meds, okay?” Tara said.

  “They better be strong enough to knock me out,” Y/N said.

  “We’ll see.”   Jax leaned down to Y/N. “I gotta go now. Try not to get too high off of your meds.”

   “No promises.”

   Tara pursed her lips as Jax kissed the top of Y/N’s head before walking out of the room with him. “So, you haven’t had any updates on who could’ve done this to her?”

    “We’re working on it. You just have to focus on getting her better and keeping Unser and the other cops away from her. They’ll screw everything up investigating this,” Jax said.

   “I’ll do my best, but I don’t know how much I can do to keep them from seeing her,” Tara said. 

   Jax simply nodded and they continued walking back to the waiting room. Juice was passed out in his seat; Tig was fiddling with his thumbs; Chibs was fake reading some magazine; and Opie looked worried. Gemma and Clay were no where to be seen.

   “Hey, where’d my mom and Clay go?” Jax asked Opie.

   Opie blinked and looked up at Jax. “Your mom’s outside smoking and Clay left to call around. How is she?”    “She’s awake but she doesn’t remember much,” Jax said.

    “Poor lass. We’re gonna have to teach whoever did this a lesson,” Chibs said.

    “Yeah, if we can find them.” Tig elbowed Juice and he jumped up.

    “Wh-what happened?” Juice asked.

    “She’s awake but Tara’s about to give her some meds to get rid of the pain so there’s no use in anyone else going to talk to her right now,” Jax said.

    “Oh, that’s convenient: Y/N gets drugged up only after you see her.” 

   “I didn’t make the call, Tara did. Don’t get your panties in a twist, Juice.”

   “Too late,” Tig muttered.

    The other guys burst out laughing while Juice chose to punch Tig in the arm.

    “Anyway, we have to have some of the guys stay here just in case whoever attacked Y/N tries to come back. I don’t think she saw anything she wasn’t supposed to but she also doesn’t remember much.”

    “I’ll stay,” Juice said.

    “I might as well too,” Opie said.

    “Great, the rest of us’ll help Clay and the others find the son of a b-tch who tried to mess with our Y/N,” Jax said.

    The other men nodded.

    “The only other thing we have to worry about is the cops. Even though they hate us, they’re obligated to investigate something like this. When they come in, try not to bust their balls too much. Besides, Y/N knows how to handle them anyway. The main priority is to keep her safe and to catch the people who landed her in here. Understood?” Jax asked.

    “Yeah.”

    Back in her room, Y/N couldn’t feel any pain. She felt numb and light thanks to the morphine. She would’ve tried escaping from the hospital then, but the numbness and cords attached to her helped keep her down. Though she was fully conscious, she felt the meds lead her into some sort of dreamlike haze. Soon, she was no longer in the hospital but back in that dimly lit bar in Vegas.

    “Y/N, what are you doing?” Y/B/F/N asked through a laugh.

    The music was loud and Y/N couldn’t tell whether it was country or rap. The people in the small bar were dancing and it was hot and sweaty. Y/N was standing on the bar, dancing and waving her hands above her head.

    “Living!” Y/N shouted.

   She tossed back another shot of tequila, grinning at the burning sensation as it ran down her throat. She spun around on the bar, men and women yelled at her and she couldn’t tell whether it was out of praise or drunken belligerence.It had been years since Y/N had danced on a bar without trying to get tips from drunken bikers. She felt calm and free.

    “Nice moves, little lady,” some man with dark hair and piercing gray eyes said.

    “I know,” Y/N said.

    “Why don’t you come down here and be my partner.” He had a thick southern accent and he wasn’t terrible looking at all. Then again, tequila made everyone look good to Y/N.

    “Make me,” she teased.

    Swiftly, the man grabbed her and pulled her down from the bar, ignoring the playful swats Y/N gave him. He set her on her feet and they began dancing. He wore all black and some sort of black leather vest. 

    “You’re not too bad yourself,” Y/N called over the music. 

    “Thanks.”

    Suddenly, Y/N was out in the parking lot, her two friends trailing behind her. The guy she had danced with was gone and she was ready to go back to her hotel. Y/N bumped into someone and shoved them away.

    “Watch where you’re going!” she snapped.

    “Y/N, shut up,” Y/B/F/N’s roommate warned.

    But her warning fell on deaf ears. Y/N hadn’t picked a fight since she came to Vegas and she was itching to punch someone, anyone. The man turned around but Y/N couldn’t make out his face or anything.

    “What did you say, b-tch?” 

    And then, Y/N’s eyes snapped open and she jumped a little when she realized Juice was standing by her door. 

    “Hey, Y/N,” Juice said. “How are you feeling?”

    “Great, Nurse Ratchet gave me some drugs.” Y/N lifted the hand that had the IV in it and beckoned to Juice. “Come closer.”

    Juice hesitated before walking closer to Y/N. He looked worried and angry at the same time. “I’m not really supposed to be in here, you know. I just wanted to see how you were holding up.”

    “I’m great,” Y/N said with a laugh. 

    “You look good, you always look good,” Juice said.

    “Don’t flirt with me right now, I’m hideous.” Y/N covered her face with her hands.

   “No, you’re not. Listen to me, Jax, Clay, and Tig are looking for the bastard that did this to you. Opie and I are staying here in case they come back. The cops might come to interview you but hopefully you won’t be as high as you are right now if that happens,” Juice said.

   However, he knew his words were falling on deaf ears as Y/N cocked her head at him in confusion. This was definitely going well.

   “Redneck,” Y/N said.

   “What?”    “They’re looking for a redneck,” Y/N said slowly, sounding more sleepy.  

   Juice’s eyes widened and he leaned forward. “Are you sure, Y/N?”

   “I got into a fight with a redneck at…at the bar.”    “Do you remember what he looked like?”

    “Bigger than Opie,” Y/N said with a giggle. “I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

    “Y/N,” Juice hissed.

    However, Y/N had already drifted back to sleep. Juice sighed as he stood. Hopefully, Y/N really had realized something in her high state because this information did help narrow down suspects. Juice walked into the hallway and ran right into Tara.

   “Why are you just leaving Y/N’s room?” Tara demanded quietly.

   “Don’t worry about it, doc, it’s all under control,” he said.

   Tara stopped him from getting past her. “Look, Y/N’s my friend too and I’m trying to help her get better. You trying to talk to her while she needs rest is not helping. I’ll let you know when you can talk to her again.”

   “Whatever you say, doc.” Juice smirked at her as he continued walking into the waiting room.

   Opie stood. “Did she say anything?”

  “She said that it was a redneck and I think she might be telling the truth. She is on morphine after all.”

   “Alright, I’ll call Clay. Hopefully, it’s a solid lead,” Opie said.

   “Yeah,” Juice said, “hopefully.”

[thesingerscorner]

An Interview with a Millennial Musician

     College - the best time of a young person's life. A college degree - one of the most valuable things a person of today can have. A college degree in music, however? To many, a degree in the arts is rendered useless. With so many amateur musicians in every career and organization in today's society, helping to contribute to the modern ideal of creative thinking and problem solving, what is the role of the musician-by-trade? What does it mean to be a successful professional musician to a millennial? To Greg O'Keefe, a senior college student studying Music Industry, that role is simple, and essential.

"Ms. Vanacore: Why are you doing what you do?

Mr. O'Keefe: Because I couldn’t do anything else.

Why not?

Because I want to bring other people the joy that it brings me. If people could feel the same way I do when they listen to the music I make, that would be a success. Like, the way I feel when I listen to music other people make.

How have the artists you’ve been listening to gotten you to this point?

They’ve showed me that I’m not the only one dealing with the sh*t I’m going through.

How did others discourage you on the way to where you are now?

Ha. By being so much f***ing better than me. I got here and I thought I was the sh*t. It’s the competition – the fact that you’re raised in a place where you’re a black sheep and you get here and you’re among 400 other black sheep. It’s an environmental thing. The student base was so concentrated, it discouraged me.

I didn’t know how to play a major scale when I got here, but because I knew how to play a pentatonic scale on the guitar back home, people just told me to remember them when I was famous. Now, I'm saying that to some of my peers.

Me and my buddy were the only two that went to school for music, and when I got here I realized that maybe I couldn’t do what I wanted. I wanted to be a performer, but I thought maybe I’ll be something else cause I didn't think I was the best performer. I got here and realized that that was okay cause there are so many people involved in roles in music and I could be any of them.

How did you discourage yourself?

Comparison. That’s literally the main one. Being faced with a bunch of peers who are so much further along the musical ladder just because of circumstance. I came here on a $10,000 scholarship and found that a lot of other people deserve that more than me.

It took me a while to realize that there's a spectrum. On the top of the spectrum are the insanely talented prodigies who work extremely hard. They're the best and they'll end up getting rich and probably famous. Then there are the people at the bottom of the spectrum - the ones that don't really have any talent, but also don't work hard to get better. Then there are the people in the middle - these are the people with different levels of talent who put in different amounts of work. For example, if someone in this middle area had a lot of talent, but never worked on it, then someone with slightly less talent who works really hard could easily surpass them. That can be really discouraging, but also motivating, cause even if you think someone is more talented than you, if you work hard you can get to their level.

What about other common issues? Performance anxiety?

For me, not so much performance anxiety. Being judged during a performance, and whether or not your creative thoughts are quality and valid. You want to be validated as a musician for what you do, but it’s not up to you it’s really up to your audience, which can be intimidating. You really gotta learn to trust yourself and be confident with who you are as an artist, cause that's the kind of musician people are attracted to.

What are some myths about being a musician that you can dispel?

That creativity is entirely natural and comes out of nowhere. Creativity isn’t all just inspired, it’s work. It’s a myth that you don’t have to practice. But even I don’t formally practice every day, my friends and I just “practice” every day - we jam. We get better by messing around. Learning music theory will NOT hurt your ability in any way, shape, or form, despite what some ads I've seen say. "Watch this video and you'll be able to write a hit song!" - that's complete crap. You have to learn music theory and songwriting over time, it just won't happen after paying for and watching a twenty minute video.

Another misconception is that all the greats do drugs. All the greats of today are working their a**es off right now and they won’t touch that stuff. Raw talent that you work for, treating your body right. That’s how you get great.

You have to have talent, but you have to work for it, too. You have to know though, that if you don’t have the talent for performing as a musician, there’s no amount of work that could fix that. You have to realize at some point that you can be good at teaching or working in other aspects of the industry, but there is a ceiling for talent.

Have you even seen another musician do something crazy for money?

Mostly I’ve seen people working at places they never thought they’d end up because they’re taking some time to make money before going deep into music. It’s hard to start out, so I have friends, not giving up music, but taking a break from it being their main thing to make some money. It’s kinda sad, but it’s necessary.

How does fame and wealth play into the picture?

Fame doesn’t, wealth does. I’m not trying to get famous, I’m trying to get rich. Well, rich enough to move to a nice suburb and have two kids. I’m trying to support a family of four and have a decent clientel that recommend me to good people. As far as wealth goes, there’s a 1% of society, and there’s gonna be the same in music. There’s musicians living on the street, there are musicians living the high life, and there’s the working man. I could be a worker for the rest of my life and that would be okay as long as I’m happy.

At this point in my college career, straight out of college, I’m expecting to work a shitty job. If I get my current dream job right out of college, I should be able to make rent. (laughs)

What goals have you achieved?

I went to college. Got my high school diploma. Got away from what my parents wanted. I can improvise, which as a kid I thought was the coolest thing ever. I can hit a low D, which in high school I couldn’t even hit an A. It’s the little things.

What do you still want to accomplish? What are your priorities?

I want to be able to get out of college with a job. I want to be able to do what I love with who I love. In five years, I want to have worked with or for someone famous. Or get credits on something big.

I want to save up enough money for a family. Every single day is going to be pointed to, “In the next 10 years, I want to be happy with where my life is”. I want to be happy with who I’m with, where I’m working. Bare bones. My priority is to work until I get to that place.

Where do you see the future of music headed?

At the moment, I see it going back to traditional instruments. Back to the band, back to organic voices. Guitars, saxophones. People have been hearing electronic for the past few years and they want a combination of that and the organic. For the past decade, people have been like, “Wow, synthesizers are so cool!” and like, “Yeah, they are!” but they there are so many more combinations and people are realizing that and making new things. There can always be something new. People are sampling human voices instead of using synthesizers, and it’s so cool.

Will there ever be a new Led Zeppelin or The Beatles? No, cause there is so much access to even more opportunities. There were so many things that you needed then in order to be a success, and now anyone with a laptop can make music. There are sub-genres and smaller populations of audiences, so if you make something it’s like, you have a better chance of finding an audience for it and people that will like what you create, even if it’s really different.

Some really famous, popular composers today are just doing the wrong thing. You can’t stick to one style the whole time. Too much texture, to many cluster chords. It’s hard to understand if there’s only tension and no resolution, especially to non-musicians. A teacher once told me that music is only based on two chords: V and I, tension and release. I like to think of it more as IV and I. There’s only release and home. I like consistency, but you can’t use it all the time.

Where do you see yourself in that future? What is your role?

I’m the person making the talent sound decent. The one that is refining the raw talent. I make other artists sound good.

What’s my title? Artist. You could be an artist of any type. An artist of a performer, an artist of a producer, and artist of a songwriter. I don’t know. I think maybe a producer, producer of sound. Producers are artists. I think as long as I always have that artist side of me, I think I’ll have a role somewhere."

     The role of a musician of today really is that simple - to make others happy while being a happy artist. The same way that people of all walk of life enjoy listening to music, young musicians want to enjoy making their music. Success to millennial musicians is no longer selling out stadiums and going Platinum - the music market is too saturated with talent for every musician to be in the top one percent. Instead, millennial musicians dream of having a purpose in their job, enjoying their career, loving the people around them, and making listeners happy through their work. A simply beautiful role.