A Quote by Mabel

In the bathroom, having taken my make-up off and opened my eyes, I always think there's a ghost behind me. It feels like there's a weird presence. Maybe it's my brain reacting to me without make-up.
People might think I'm very hard, what with my black make-up, my hair over my eyes, etc. My innocence didn't always help me, but it did preserve something in me that maybe others don't have anymore. I'm inside my bubble, you could say, and thankfully so, because I don't think daily life is always great. It protects me.
I think probably one of the important things that happened to me was growing up in Idaho in the mountains, in the woods, and having a very strong presence of the wilderness around me. That never felt like emptiness. It always felt like presence.
I opened-up a yogurt, underneath the lid it said, "Please try again." because they were having a contest that I was unaware of. I thought maybe I opened the yogurt wrong. ...Or maybe Yoplait was trying to inspire me... "Come on Mitchell, don't give up!" An inspirational message from your friends at Yoplait, fruit on the bottom, hope on top.
It is called working your ass off. The difference is what you are willing to sacrifice. For every writer who wants balance in their life, there is a guy like me who gives up a lot to make their dreams come true. There is always going to be someone out there that knows they have to compensate for maybe having less talent with harder work and preparation.
Me and my wife have been on the same kind of routine since we got married, man. Just praying together in the morning, praying at night together. And I think having her, that support right there! I always try to make sure my kids grow up in the right home, I set the right example for them. Because I didn't always have my father there for me and my sister didn't have that either. So I just want to make sure they grow up different. They grow up seeing how marriage is supposed to be and I think that's what really gives me motivation.
Yes,” I told him. “I think the guy playing the Pirate King was awesome.” He stopped where he was. “What?” I asked, frowning at the big smile on his face. “I didn’t say I liked the Pirate King,” he told me. “Oh.” I closed my eyes—and there he was. A warm, edgy presence right on the edge of my perception. When I opened my eyes, he was standing right in front of me. “Cool,” I told him. “You’re back.” He kissed me leisurely. When he was finished, I was more than ready to head home. Fast. “You make me laugh,” he told me seriously.
Often I visualize a quicker, like almost a ghost runner, ahead of me with a quicker stride. It's really crazy. In races, this always happens to me. I see the vision of a runner ahead of me, maybe just 15, 20 meters ahead of me, and the cadence of that runner, which is actually me in the future, is a little quicker, so if I'm going (his rhythm/breathing), then my ghost runner, the vision of me, ahead of me, like opening up and just going for it, is quicker .
When I listen to Airplanes record, it takes me back. I remember a lot of my thought processes when I was 20 or 21, writing those songs and recording that record. I wonder what I was thinking when I was trying to say a particular thing. I hear some of the weird little nuances in the recording; I can hear what the room sounded like. I remember what it smelled like. I can remember sitting up in guitarist Chris Walla's bedroom and for the first time in my life having this realization like, "Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can make music that in some capacity people will enjoy and come see me play."
I'm surprised I'm still living. I ain't really make the best of decisions in my life, but for some reason, it missed me. It's weird - that's what I always think, like, "Maybe something's going to happen."
They asked me, How did you learn to sing the blues like that? How did you learn to sing that heavy? I just opened my mouth and that's what I sounded like. You can't make up something that you don't feel. I didn't make it up. I just opened my mouth and it existed.
I grew up with a family that kind of always took care of me. They were always doting over me and I was always like a helpless little child. I think it's been a really big learning experience to be on my own and realize I can conquer things without having someone rescue me.
A movie's a movie - you know I'm a massive old film buff - but it's still something to me, music: I can still close my eyes like I was when I was a teenager, and it can still make me weep or make me angry or make me, even if it's bad music, crack up.
If you saw me without concealer, you would see that I have raccoon eyes. And I think my forehead is too small. I am not quintessentially beautiful. I am photogenic, but that's only because I have learned how to make the best of what I've got from the make-up artists I have worked with.
On camera, the audience can see your eyes close up - they can see behind your eyes - and when you're on stage, you need to make sure that the person sitting in the back row can feel what's happening behind your eyes, even if they can't see them. Having a live audience is exhilarating and exciting all on its own, but you know, it is quite different.
There's always so much music around me now, it seems like everything has to be something with music, so in my spare time I try not to listen to anything. It's so hard for me to listen to something without trying to see a benefit in it: "Maybe I'll make my own version of that track or maybe I'll do this or that." When I'm off I just don't want to hear anything.
Growing up homeless many times, it's always ingrained in me this fear that maybe I won't have a roof over my head or maybe things are going to be taken away from me.
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