13 reasons...

Billboard Names ‘Mr. Brightside’ Third Best Chorus of 21st Century

thekillersnews:

Billboard has named The Killers’ ‘Mr. Brightside’ as having the third best chorus of the 21st century.  Billboard has compiled a list of the 100 best choruses of the 21st century.

There are countless rock songs released this century that never quite reach the top of the mountain – that is, they gain momentum in the verse, keep climbing in the pre-chorus, but stumble back down upon reaching the hook. “Mr. Brightside” is not one of these songs. In fact, the first song that The Killers ever recorded heads upward throughout its first minute, teases a massive chorus to come, then ascends into the clouds with a word (“jeaaaa-lou-syyyy”) we never knew could be so much fun to sing. The chorus of “Mr. Brightside” is paranoid, overly dramatic and unapologetically self-aggrandizing, but it’s also sweeping, stylish and relatable to anyone who’s construed a minor betrayal as a major personal blow. The Killers often start their live sets with this song, and when they do, it always feels like a reminder: Oh, yeah, a perfect, world-conquering rock chorus WAS released after the ‘90s ended and everyone declared the classic rock era over.

To view the full list, see this story on Billboard.

Taken from a Killers community. 

(via ashotatthenight)

A Girl on the Go

On June 1, 2016 I had the opportunity to visit a facility called the Flying Dutchman. This facility centered on housing and care of adolescence who have committed violent crimes or crimes which involved some use of weaponry. As a class, we were able to walk through the facility and see the way that these kids were cared for. My attention immediately went to how nice the facilities are. I’m talking nicer than my dorm room in college. The person who ran the facility informed us that, upon entering, the juveniles are taken to IKEA with a budget and get to pick out all of their things to decorate their rooms. They are given strict curfews and rules of the house but overall they have it pretty good- with meals cooked for them daily and the stability of somewhere to come home to everyday. After the tour we went back to the classroom to discuss what we had seen and learned. We talked about the difference between a state focused on punishment vs. a state focused on rehabilitation. Some students argued that the facility seemed too cushy, after all- hadn’t they committed a severe crime? Where was the sense of justice? It brought into question whether or not Justice was the best motto when dealing with a juvenile delinquent. Could it be that severe prolonged punishment of the juvenile only perpetuates the delinquent mindset? Just some food for thought.

A free street festival held here in Copenhagen every summer took the following days. It was a wild, lawless country on those beer stained streets and I couldn’t believe my eyes when I first walked onto the scene (probably didn’t help that I pre-gamed hard for that one). Free concerts were taking place on multiple stages while people danced and drank the night away. A boy who was considerably drunk followed our group around talking to us and, in order to keep it a girls’ day I walked him back to his friends patiently. Too bad it meant I couldn’t find mine! It was at no cost to me though. I simply took a shot of jaeger and kept the party going. Luckily I ran into my friend Elena and we proceeded to get completely wasted. We were in a blackout so I can’t tell you much about the outcome of the night except that I made it home safely and drunk dialed my mom. That hangover was not my friend- Sitting in class I regretted every last drop (I should probably mention this took place on a Wednesday. The Danes go hard!)

The festival is called Distortion and it takes place over the course of 4 days. The first two days are free to the public and there are men, women and children of all ages partying and having fun on the streets. Apparently, it is the biggest free music festival in Europe and very widely known. 10/10- would go again. The second night was more tamed. Of course, we got drunk but this time Elena and I stuck with a group and even invited a boy from class- Max- to hang. We met up with some of the teenagers I met at the park in the beginning of my stay here and, after seeing popular rapper Wacka Flacka Flame, we sat on a wall and watched the passerbys while playing pointless drinking games.

The fun did not stop there. The next day (Friday) was Tiesto’s live performance at Tivoli- the ride park that inspired Walt’s Disneyland. This time I did not drink! Yes, be proud of me, because the peer pressure here is out of this world. I had Max and Elena meet at my place and, apparently, my roommates did the same with their friends- we had about 20 people in our living room drinking and laughing for about 2 hours before the event. Then we took off. We, immediately, lost the group. Then there were 3-Max, Elena and I all stayed together. We made it close to the front and heard hits like “Red Lights”, “Habits” and even mixes from Calvin Harris and Chainsmokers (some of my favorite EDM artists). In case you haven’t caught it by now, Tiesto is a DJ. The fireworks were blazing and the light show was fantastic. In our quest to push our way to the front row we lost Max. Elena and I started getting crushed by the crowd. We tried pushing back but before we knew it- we were on the floor! We decided it was time to make our way out. We finally found freedom away from the crowd and picked a fountain to stand on in order to watch the rest from a distance. Max, being the coolest friend ever- texted us quickly asking where we were. We let him know and met up with him within 10 minutes. I left Max and Elena with some of Max’s friends from his University and took off to my apartment with my roommates. I was feeling the effects of a party rampage and needed to rest.

           The next day I woke up early and me and my roommate, Allison, grabbed a train to the far side of Denmark where the ocean meets Sweden. Imagine, seeing an entire other country on the other side of the bay? I couldn’t believe my eyes. We were in a town called Helsingor, home of Hamlet- Prince of Denmark. Of course we HAD to see the Kronborg Castle. I was extremely excited because I’m a theatre nerd and, in celebration of Shakespeare’s 400^th anniversary of his death, there were actors throughout the castle acting out scenes of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. We got to experience the projection of Hamlet’s ghost father in the dungeons of the castle and a sword fight by the throne. It was definitely fun and worth the money I had to spend- I couldn’t pass it up! Helsingor was an adorable town as well, I wouldn’t have minded spending a little more time walking around but alas, the group felt it was time to go. The rest of the day was spent cooking and catching up on some much needed sleep.

           I’m absolutely enjoying my time here and Denmark- we have reached the halfway point of staying in this city and my roommates and I are starting to feel the pressure to do EVERYTHING. It seems that no amount of time is enough here. There will always be more museums to go to, more castles to see, more mermaids to touch. I am a wanderer and this is just the beginning of a life of travels and experiences. While I will be sad to go I know it is not “Goodbye” but, rather, “’Til we meet again, Copenhagen.”

Pretzels or Salty Sticks?

As I embark on my second week in Copenhagen, Denmark I find myself asking some truly philosophical and soul-searching questions. Questions like; Are they Pretzels or Salt Sticks? Is it necessary to have 50 cereal types or 5? Are bathrooms meant for leisurely relaxation or a quick go? I’ve seen many foreign movies, encountered quite a few internationals and even read my share of international political articles yet nothing could have prepared me for such specific- somewhat ridiculous- life-changing pondering. Being abroad for the first time has already started working wonders on the old cranium.

To get away from the more metaphysical reflections I’ve busied myself with some light partying. And by “light” I, of course, mean hardcore. As a person of legal drinking age in Denmark I am taking full advantage of all the title has to offer. What started as conversational drinking in the park turned into day-shots with high schoolers. Let me explain, in Denmark legal drinking age is 16 and on the last day of their “Folkeskole” or mandatory education (which ends at 10^th grade- American) all those who are done go to the park and get ridiculously wasted. I mean this to the greatest extent- teenagers throwing up in bushes EVERYWHERE and not a cop in sight. Naturally, I had to engage. I set about giving a quite young girl half a water bottle to ease the drunk. That seemed to be all the Danes needed to partake in conversation. Within minutes the four of us were surrounded by young men; all asking where we are from and how old we are. We politely answered and dove into questions of our own. We were immediately taken aback by the obvious maturity of these 16-18 year olds. They held themselves in such a way that made us question our own ages and rethink the stigma adolescence have in our culture. Could it be that early exposure to independence and a drinking lifestyle allowed these teens to carry themselves more confidently? By my experience I’d have to argue that it does. One girl we met in particular really amazed me. She was 17, beautiful and sweet as can be. Despite the age gap I found myself exchanging Facebook information and setting up plans to hang out. The experience was eye-opening and taught me so much about the Danish culture.

After this odd afternoon we all headed back to our apartment- have I mentioned that our apartment has a prime location in the middle of downtown Copenhagen? When we got back we continued to pre-game before our night out. We got all dolled up and headed out for a night on the town. First round of shots went smoothly. Second round of shots came and went. Third round signaled the end of a night to remember. Joking, folks! I remember it all! My new friend, Elena, was smart enough to invite another boy whom I was lucky to have there since he lives on the floor above my own. We stuck it out for a bit longer, had a Dane buy us a drink- I know out of context this seems shady but let it be known that he was a man in his 30s who bought both me and my friend Elena a drink because I helped him find something in the club and also to show hospitality, he absolutely did not hit on us and, instead, told us about cool things to do in Copenhagen while we are here. Not sure I should have to explain why I would accept a drink from a man to whoever may randomly read this but I also understand how judgmental people can be. Reality check- I would not be upset if a woman bought my husband a drink: I would laugh! Elena, the boy, and I all headed back to the apartments together. Club hopping can be a real sport and at this point we were exhausted. I refused to let Elena take the train back home so she crashed with me despite it being the first night we ever spent time together. That’s the reality of making friends in a situation such as this one though. Things move quickly because we all have so little time together. It sometimes seems like we are all fighting to get to know each other as quickly as possible. We ask all the right questions, say all the quirky things and eventually fall into the grooves of each other to make this brand new experience feel as familiar as possible.

So far, the most gratifying experience I have had in Copenhagen was today, when my class went on a field study to a sports center for disadvantaged and at risk youth. It wasn’t a great start to the day, as I was unable to locate the meeting point of he class and therefore had to figure out the bus and where to stop on my own. I even got off a stop late and found myself running to the previous stop, which ended up being about half a mile away. When I finally got to the stop I had no idea where to go next. I quickly searched for my instructor’s phone number and bit the 20cents a minute fee for the international call as I dialed his number. Of course, it’s my luck for the call to go to voicemail. I opted to search through all of my course materials to see if I could find the name of the facility anywhere in order to Google the address when I received a call from an unknown American number. I held my breath and answered in hopes that it would be my instructor. Alas, it was. He told me to hold tight and ran to get me. As soon as he got there I, of course, couldn’t pass up an opportunity to make fun of my own incompetence and we laughed for a bit whilst approaching the building.

Upon first walking in I was awe-stricken. The facility had been converted from a train station to beautiful gym. This means the ceilings were high and the place was huge. In a class of 28 I discovered that 22 decided to go to the meditation class. The rest of us engaged in various sports. I got to play basketball with kids who have been through the system as well as with my Instructor. The first thing I noticed about the game was how supportive it was. There was not one moment where I felt embarrassed for not doing very well and it was because of that support that I was never nervous to attempt to shoot a basket. This newfound confidence allowed me to score 5 times in the game, which was a personal best for me as I am a lover of the sport but not usually a player of the game. Afterward we sat down and got to hear testimonials from some of the kids who went through the program (now 17 years old). They described how their lives were out of their control from a very young age as well as other common themes of delinquent youths such as home instability, lack of support, no role models, drug use and friends who were all in similar situations. When both the kids that we heard from first came to the program they were not open to the idea at all but it was through the persistence of their trainers that they eventually gave in. I was blown away by their stories, especially the one emphasized point they both made: the fact that the trainers did not treat them as delinquents but as people was a key aspect in their success. I quickly related this to the work my father has dedicated his life to and was able to form comparisons. That’s possibly what made it so interesting to me, well that and that my life goal is basically to create a center that follows the exact same model but with the arts.

The week went beautifully. My minor mistakes became leaning moments and I believe I became a lot more comfortable in the city through walking around and getting temporarily lost. I’m realizing that it’s okay to compare and contrasts things to the states but not to criticize. As a traveler it is my job to explore the culture and to keep an open mind. So the next time I’m questioning the use of the term ‘Salty Stick’ over ‘Pretzel’, I’ll have to remind myself that that small difference is part of a billion tiny differences that are making this experience so remarkable. After all, If you aren’t questioning everything, are you really traveling?

The First Day of My Life

After years of anticipation the day had finally come. My first day in Europe. Copenhagen was immediately noticeable more eco-friendly, cleaner, and whiter than any place I’ve ever lived before. Yes, WHITER. Everyone here has the kind of skin tone that actually matches the band-aids. Not to mention they all look like models and don’t seem to realize it.

I got off on a rocky start, literally- those cobble stone streets are no joke. I immediately lost track of my group on my way to the residence hall but was able to recover fairly quickly when a remaining Resident Advisor caught sight of me and led me on my own personal excursion to my home for the next 6 weeks. As I pulled the ridiculous amounts of baggage I brought with me (should be mentioned that I am a notorious over-packer), the wheels clanged on the beautiful cobblestone roads. These very same roads of Copenhagen were never meant for the modern and sleek wheels of a suitcase, but there I was, CLACKING away. People stared, I blushed, and life moved on.

When I finally arrived to my new-temporary-home I was shocked at the immediate warmth that greeted me. The atmosphere screamed “home!” with blankets strewn about the couch for our cuddling pleasure and VHI blasting varying tunes from the 90s onward. It was in that common room that I met my first friend, Morgan Sturgis. Strikingly pretty with curly hair and a bright pink shirt on- her attitude matched every bit of her outward appearance. She was extremely kind and, as we got to settling in in our separate rooms, we occasionally yelled at each other from the hall about the amounts of unnecessary clothing and shoes we brought and laughed about our inability to put the sheets on properly.

I find it worth mentioning that I have done a summer intensive program similar to this one in high school but that took place in the city of New York. I also find it worth mentioning that that program was SHIT compared to DIS. The DIS program includes brand new sheets and towels in their cost (so no having to worry about how well they were really washed before you got to them). They also have free personal laundry facilities (personal as in shared with your housemates but not shared with the entire building) and all the cooking supplies you’ll need (pots, pans, utensils, bowls) in order to cook properly. I mention all of this at the risk of sounding like some kind of paid plug. And, of course, I only say it because I genuinely mean it and I believe in credit where credit is due. Already, in the first couple of days, I can see that the program I have embarked on is not just a ridiculous scam to get Americans to spend obscene amounts of money in Copenhagen but rather a real attempt to make your stay as a student the most accommodating and least stressful part of a life-changing experience.

Before the end of the day was up I was bombarded, rather delightfully, by a mass of new friends who couldn’t be sweeter and not to mention, each bad-ass in their own way. We were lucky enough to have all girls on our floor, and while we may all come from different places we have found shocking similarities (like the fact that there are 4 girls named Ali, one Allison, an Alix and then me…WHY?). I didn’t want to be too forward with the girls about the fact that I was married in order not to trick them into thinking I am more responsible than I am, which, I feel, is usually the impression being married gives. Instead, I decided to let them all get to know my silly, crazy personality first and then casually mention that I was married once I felt my personality was accurately represented. I executed it in this way and found the responses welcoming, curious, and shocked- not in that specific order. Many asked questions like “how long were you together before?” others, “Where is he?” and, my favorite, “Why?” I answered all patiently and went forward from there. I found that people accepted the fact quickly and merely added it to the things that make up me as opposed to centralizing my character on that small fact, which, when you are as young as I am and married, is extremely common.

Our first night the second floor apartment and 3^rd floor apartment went out together to a local Karaoke Bar, called Sam’s Bar. Be warned, if you ever find yourself in the dark corners of Copenhagen and stumble into a karaoke bar, EVERYONE sings well. We had the Danish Adele and Sam Smith gracing us with their voices. We met some locals and shot the breeze with them. They commented on our large group and one boy, about my age, told me he wasn’t actually Danish but Argentinian. I, of course, didn’t believe him. But then he spoke some breathtaking Spanish to me and we got that cleared up quickly. All in all, we had a great time. All was well in Copenhagen.

acureforbrainwork:

cosmic-kleptomaniac:

dismantlethefeminism:

I do not understand this “male privilege" bullshit.

What. Fucking. Privileges. Do. Men. Have.???????

Name them. I swear, I challenge you to name these “male privileges" and be able to prove them. 

Come on, I fucking dare you. 

Name them!

Oh boy. Well, as a man, I’ll tell you my male privilege.

1. My odds of being hired for a job, when competing against female applicants, are probably skewed in my favor. The more prestigious the job, the larger the odds are skewed.
2. I can be confident in the fact that my co-workers won’t think that I was hired/promoted because of my sex - despite the fact that it’s probably true.
3. If I ever am promoted when a woman of my peers is better suited for the job, it is because of my sex.
4. If i ever fail at my job or career, it won’t be seen as a blacklist against my sex’s capabilities.
5. I am far less likely to face sexual harassment than my female peers.
6. If I do the same task as a woman, and if the measurement is at all subjective, chances are people will think I did a better job.
7. If I am a teen or an adult, and I stay out of prison, my odds of getting raped are relatively low.
8. On average, I’m taught that walking alone after dark by myself is less than dangerous than it is for my female peers.
9. If I choose not to have children, my masculinity will not be questioned.
10. If I do have children but I do not provide primary care for them, my masculinity will not be questioned.
11. If I have children and I do care for them, I’ll be praised even if my care is only marginally competent.
12. If I have children and a career, no one will think I’m selfish for not staying at home.
13. If I seek political office, my relationship with my children or who I deem to take care of them will more often not be scrutinized by the press.
14. My elected representatives are mostly people of my own sex. The more prestigious the position, the more this is true.
15. When i seek out “the person in charge", it is likely that they will be someone of my own sex. The higher the position, the more often this is true.
16. As a child, chances are I am encouraged to be more active and outgoing than my sisters.
17. As a child, I could choose from an almost infinite variety of children’s media featuring positive, active, non-stereotyped heroes of my own sex. I never had to look for it; male protagonists were (and are) the default.
18. As a child, chances are I got more teacher attention than girls who raised their hands just as often.
19. If my day, week or year is going badly, I need not ask of each negative episode or situation whether or not it has sexist overtones. (Nobody’s going to ask if I’m upset because I’m menstruating.)
20. I can turn on the television or glance at the front page of the newspaper and see people of my own sex widely represented.
21. If I’m careless with my financial affairs it won’t be attributed to my sex.
22. If I’m careless with my driving it won’t be attributed to my sex.
23. I can speak in public to a large group without putting my sex on trial.
24. Even if I sleep with a lot of women, there is little to no chance that I will be seriously labeled a “slut,” nor is there any male counterpart to “slut-bashing.”
25. I do not have to worry about the message my wardrobe sends about my sexual availability.
26. My clothing is typically less expensive and better-constructed than women’s clothing for the same social status. While I have fewer options, my clothes will probably fit better than a woman’s without tailoring.
27. The grooming regimen expected of me is relatively cheap and consumes little time.
28. If I buy a new car, chances are I’ll be offered a better price than a woman buying the same car. The same goes for other expensive merchandise.
29. If I’m not conventionally attractive, the disadvantages are relatively small and easy to ignore.
30. I can be loud with no fear of being called a shrew. I can be aggressive with no fear of being called a bitch.
31. I can ask for legal protection from violence that happens mostly to men without being seen as a selfish special interest, since that kind of violence is called “crime” and is a general social concern. (Violence that happens mostly to women is usually called “domestic violence” or “acquaintance rape,” and is seen as a special interest issue.)
32. I can be confident that the ordinary language of day-to-day existence will always include my sex. “All men are created equal,” mailman, chairman, freshman, he.
33. My ability to make important decisions and my capability in general will never be questioned depending on what time of the month it is.
34. I will never be expected to change my name upon marriage or questioned if I don’t change my name.
35. The decision to hire me will not be based on assumptions about whether or not I might choose to have a family sometime soon.
36. Every major religion in the world is led primarily by people of my own sex. Even God, in most major religions, is pictured as male.
37. Most major religions argue that I should be the head of my household, while my wife and children should be subservient to me.
38. If I have a wife or live-in girlfriend, chances are we’ll divide up household chores so that she does most of the labor, and in particular the most repetitive and unrewarding tasks.
39. If I have children with my girlfriend or wife, I can expect her to do most of the basic childcare such as changing diapers and feeding.
40. If I have children with my wife or girlfriend, and it turns out that one of us needs to make career sacrifices to raise the kids, chances are we’ll both assume the career sacrificed should be hers.
41. Assuming I am heterosexual, magazines, billboards, television, movies, pornography, and virtually all of media is filled with images of scantily-clad women intended to appeal to me sexually. Such images of men exist, but are rarer.
42. In general, I am under much less pressure to be thin than my female counterparts are. If I am over-weight, I probably suffer fewer social and economic consequences for being fat than over-weight women do.
43.  If I am heterosexual, it’s incredibly unlikely that I’ll ever be beaten up by a spouse or lover.
44. Complete strangers generally do not walk up to me on the street and tell me to “smile.”
45. Sexual harassment on the street virtually never happens to me. I do not need to plot my movements through public space in order to avoid being sexually harassed, or to mitigate sexual harassment.
46. On average, I am not interrupted by women as often as women are interrupted by men.
47. On average, I will have the privilege of not knowing about my male privilege.

And lastly, I am taken as a more credible feminist than my female peers, despite the fact that the feminist movement is not liberating to my sex.

This is male privilege.

THIS. THIS IS HOW YOU BE A MALE FEMINIST. 

(via mysweetserendiipity)