Being True To Your Own Music

Being True To Your Own Music

Why Kat Dahlia is such an influence for our upcoming generations music scene.

One of the best feelings in the world for lovers of music is when you find a song, album, or artist that can literally put your mind to a whole new perspective. It could be the angelic sound of their voice, the manifesting lyrics, or the rhythm you can't stop thinking about.

On an adventure to the beach with two of the craziest people I know is when I first heard a song by Kat Dahlia. My first thought after hearing her song, "I Think I'm In Love" is that she sounded like a clear mix between Miley Cyrus and Rihanna. Now I realize that was wrong of me to associate her voice with two other artists because she has her own unique sound that shouldn't be compared to anyone else. I was so impressed with her musicality and I only listened to the song one time. After this day, I was intrigued to find more of her music. Her album, My Garden, features songs that all have their own distinct sound. That makes it super easy to find at least one song that you can connect to.

The music industry is one tough place for musicians to make themselves and their work known. It's a place where life-long dreams are crushed but better yet, a place where all your dreams can come true in an instant.

Recently Kat Dahlia took a big step in her up and coming career and decided to no longer be signed to Epic Records and to become an independent artist. It's so important to recognize that being signed to a label doesn't determine your artistic abilities and clearly Kat is showing the world that. This gives her the opportunity to be free with her music and really create whatever she wants to and ultimately be happier.

I'm personally impacted by Kat's music everyday and her motivation to overcome all the negatives in the music industry. No other artist has influenced my life like she has. She helped me realize that life is an ongoing adventure that you should never take for granted and that your dreams can be fulfilled when you are genuinely happy.

I encourage any young musician that wants to pursue their career, to not get caught up in the drama of the "Hollywood scene". Make music that you feel proud of and show the world what it means to be an authentic artist. If you have the chance of being signed to a label, make sure they never try to manipulate who you really are as a person and a musician. I'm thankful that Kat realized her true self worth and that she can still make incredible music.

The only question now is, when will Kat Dahlia become the next best female artist this generation so desperately needs?

Cover Image Credit: Jason Rosewell

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The End Of The Semester As Told By Todd Chrisley

Because we're all a little dramatic like Todd sometimes.

The last 3-4 weeks of every college student’s semester are always crazy hectic. We have last minute assignments, group projects, and exams all squeezed into the last few weeks before break.

Sometimes we all need a little humor, and sometimes we are all a little dramatic, so why not experience the last few weeks of the semester as told by the king of drama himself, Todd Chrisley of Chrisley Knows Best.

1. Sitting in class listening to your professor explain upcoming assignments/exams.

2. When your group project members refuse to do anything until the night before it's due or just show up the day of to present.

3. When you and your roommate try to cook with whatever few ingredients you have left in stock.

Because we definitely want to avoid going to the grocery store at the end of the semester if we can.

4. When your parents get tired of you calling them about every little inconvenience in your life.

5. Sitting down to work on assignments.

6. Your thoughts when the professor is telling you what they want from you out of an assignment.

7. When you've had about 30 mental breakdowns in 2 days.

8. Trying to search out the class for the right group members.

9. The last few days of classes where everyone and everything is getting on your nerves.

10. When your friend suggests going out but you're just done with the world.

11. This. On the daily.

12. When all you want to do is snuggle up and watch Christmas movies.

13. Studying and realizing you know nothing.

14. When your finals are over and it's finally time to go home for break.

You're finally back to your old self.

Cover Image Credit: Instagram

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The Breath of Solitude

A Poem With A Prologue // Polar Viewpoints.



She smacks your parted lips,

sucking the dry,

open cracks to a seal.

Pumping energy into your chest

and sending a continuous shiver

from lung to navel.

You can't help but cough,

as your lungs tighten and twist.

Ringing the frosty sensation out –

slipping through your parted lips.

The same parted lips that

allowed her deliberate fingers

to crawl inside

where she can escape her own dimension

of solitude.

The Breath of Solitude

All I know

is solitude.

We chat

every day

in conversations that circulate

behind the backs

of the present.

Solitude grinds my coffee beans,

as we sit

with our legs crossed,

waiting for dawn

to explode over our opaque landscape.

Solitude runs my bath,


as the Sun crashes

against the diminishing horizon.

But none of this is reality.

I am above

the dimension of reality.

Not theoretically,

but physically.

I am only a tool

to be used in the dimension

of your reality.

Drifting in and out,

twirling through your negative space.

My only purpose

is found through your breath;

but what do I do

when you stop breathing?

I wait for your fingers,

less deliberate than mine,

but filled with that

that I lack.

I cannot see the blood

that sloshes through the veins

in your innocent hands.

The blood that energizes

those fingers

upon which I wait.

But I know

the blood is there.

It isn't

what you do.

It isn't

the way you move.

Simply put,

it is

the way

that you exist.

The sheer fact

that you have a bursting burgundy waterfall


not only through your fingers,

but engulfing all of you

in its rich,



The only waterfall

that I encompass

is the waterfall

that you imagine.

I have no blood;

I have no way to exist.

And so I

wait for your fingers,

less deliberate than mine,

but filled with that

that I lack.

I wait for your fingers

to filter the heat

to a state of regulation,

a state of production,

a state in which I can exist.

The peach fuzz

that sleeps on the bridge of your nose

begins to rise

when your fingers initiate the flame.

The temperature reacts,

as would my heartbeat,

if I had a bursting burgundy waterfall,

or some type of life source

inhabiting my chest cavity.

As the heat

starts to melt

my metaphorical skin,

I become reality.

I don't have a face to smile,

or eyes to produce tears.

But I have thoughts.

I have words to say,

I have feelings to express.

I still can only drift,

in and out,

twirling through your negative space,

but now spiraling

into your positive space,

as well.


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