How A Concert Can Change Your Life

How A Concert Can Change Your Life

Because who doesn't love music?
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Before I go any further, take a moment and remember your first concert. Maybe you were 17 years old, and seeing One Direction like me. How did you feel after you left that concert? I know I was on some sort of One Direction high for weeks, and listened to them all the time. Literally, I was more obsessed than before!

Now, think of the time you went to your favorite concert. The excitement builds from the day you purchase the tickets to the second they walk off stage. Seeing them there, in person, live, literally just blew me away (It was The Killers by the way, and it was AWESOME). Again, you listen to them on repeat for the next 10 years, and that post-concert high doesn’t really seem to go away.

However, from the first concert to your favorite, and all of the others in between, you feel a little more inspired each time. I believe that there is something about hearing live music, that can change a person.

Seeing them, the artists right there before you, is just astonishing. I know when I saw One Direction I sat there and bawled my eyes out and I turned to my dad (also major props to him for driving me to Milwaukee just to see some boy band he had no clue about, and to listen to screaming girls for two hours) when the boys all came out on stage and I said, “I have loved them for so long and there they are! Like…that’s them!” And I have said the same thing to myself at every concert I have gone to. Star struck, I know.

What is most astonishing about concerts is obviously the music. But hearing it live, rather than on your phone, or the radio is just 1000x better. Hearing them all sing their hearts out, and give it their absolute best, and the look on their faces when they see you cheer for them. Hearing your favorite song live is literally a life-changing experience. It’s like that song never sounds the same again.

After each concert, your eyes are opened a little wider on how real, moving and amazing music can really be.

Cover Image Credit: Mariah Schaller

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12 Signs You're Addicted To Grey's Anatomy

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Oh, "Grey’s Anatomy." We have been through so much together. Through the years, we have taken on bombs, shooters, plane crashes, and everything in between. You have loyally stood by me even when I hated you for killing off my favorite characters, or making Merideth and Derek break up. I know that some people may read this and call me crazy, but the real Grey’s fandom can relate. We are the most dedicated group of people you will ever find, almost to the point of insanity…or definitely to the point of insanity. Thinking of diagnosing yourself with Grey's-o-mania? If you meet these 12 criteria, time to strap on your surgical mask and scrub in because you are addicted.

Disclaimer: Spoilers ahead!

1. It has made you want to become a surgeon.

You are lying if all of the drama and medical lingo hasn’t made you consider changing your major at least once.

2. It has also made you NOT want to become a surgeon.

...but then there is all of the blood and the long hours.

3. You compare every guy you meet to Derek Shepherd.

The biggest mystery in all of "Grey’s" is how Meredith took so long to put a ring on that?! I mean, c’mon girl.

4. Hearing the names “Lexie” or “George” may result in an emotional breakdown.

These deaths left us with an open wound that even Mark Sloan’s sutures couldn’t repair.

5. You feel personally attacked every time a character is killed off.

Please refer to #4.

6. You feel like you could actually perform neurosurgery.

I have watched Derek clip so many aneurisms, I could do it in my sleep. Hand me a scalpel and sign me up for a clinical trial, I am ready.

7. You even sat through the musical episode.

Owen Hunt singing around the OR? A little too awkward for most people.

8. Your iTunes library is filled with songs from the show.

“How To Save a Life” by The Fray brings on all kinds of new feels now.

9. The new interns have to prove themselves to you.

Every couple of seasons, they decide to throw us a new crop of interns. This fandom is just as tough as Dr. Bailey when we decide whether these characters have what it takes for "Grey’s Anatomy" though.

10. When a friend is sick, your first thought is to start chest compressions.

After 11 seasons, I am fully prepared for all medical situations. Push one of Epi! We need a crash cart!

11. You have an immediate bond with anyone who says they watch the show.

…Did we just become best friends?

12. You frequently ask yourself “what would Christina Yang do?”

No major decision should EVER be made without asking this first. Of all of the people who have left "Grey’s," her absence is the most strongly felt. No one can replace Christina Yang.

Cover Image Credit: www.eonline.com

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The Breath of Solitude

A Poem With A Prologue // Polar Viewpoints.

mccall
mccall
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Prologue:


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,

bubbling

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

streaming,

not only through your fingers,

but engulfing all of you

in its rich,

rooted,

energy.


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.


mccall
mccall

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