Beats Headphones Quotes

Adam relented. As they kept walking and the Orphan Girl kept piping her song and the fish kept darting through the air around them, he threw out intention of his own. The volume of the resulting boom surprised even him; he heard it in one ear and felt it in both feet. The others all startled as another bass-heavy boom sounded at the beginning of the next measure of the tune. By the time the third thud came, it was obviously pounding in time with the music. Each of the trees they passed sounded with a processed thud, until the sound around them was the pulsing electronic beat that invariably played in Ronan’s car or headphones. “Oh God,” Gansey said, but he was laughing. “Do we have to endure that here, too? Ronan! ” “It wasn’t me,” Ronan said. He looked to Blue, who shrugged. He caught Adam’s eye. When Adam’s mouth quirked, Ronan’s expression stilled for a moment before turning to the loose smile he ordinarily reserved for Matthew’s silliness. Adam felt a surge of both accomplishment and nerves. He skated an edge here. Making Ronan Lynch smile felt as charged as making a bargain with Cabeswater. These weren’t forces to play with.

There's something wrong with that boy." Clay sounded mystified. "He's talented, ain't no one gonna argue that, but yeah... something." Sweaty, tired, and sore, Romeo sat on the mat in the massive martial arts center Clay owned with Jules and Wyatt. While trying to catch his breath, he watched Tino move to the beat of his own drummer as he worked out using a punching bag. With white headphones in his ears, his brother bounced and danced and kicked at that stuffed sack of beans, and for the life of him, Romeo couldn't tell if he was trying to hurt the thing or date it.

I walk alone, through these streets. Got my headphones, and I've got these beats. And no one knows that I'm gone. Well, I just wanted to be alone. Just to be alone, yeah, just to be alone.

The great ones, however, never get lost in those distractions. Biggie in particular was legendary for his ability to stay focused. There could be all sorts of things going on—drinks being passed, blunts being rolled, people trying to holler at him about various projects—but he’d just sit in a chair with his eyes closed, seemingly oblivious to all the chaos around him. That was his way of connecting to the stillness inside of him, so that when it was time to get behind the microphone, he wasn’t caught up in worrying about how his last record did or how this one might be received once it was released. No, when it was time to make a song, he was always able to connect with both the music he was hearing in his headphones and the poetry that was filling up his heart. The same way today artists like Jay Z or Lil Wayne are able to create entire songs without ever putting a word down on paper. Through being able to connect completely with the music, they are able to operate from that “zone” that the great ones are able to access. That might not sound like a big deal, but I’ve seen so many artists get sidetracked by those distractions. And when it’s time for them to get in the recording booth and execute their craft, their mind is somewhere else. Sure, they’re rapping along to the beat, but they’re not connected to it.

I’d taken off my headphones, but the music kept playing through them. I could feel the bass pulsing a beat against my thigh. It felt like the end of the world. Or like the creation. Something was exploding.

Hi, Ivan.” He lowered his chin. “Hey.” His father swung back to him, speaking in Russian. Mine wasn’t perfect, but I had a good enough handle to understand him. “Who is this girl?” he spat. Ivan didn’t glance at me. “She’s no one important. Just this weird girl who follows me around,” he returned in Russian. His father chuffed. “Good. The last thing you need is a girlfriend. You have other things to concentrate on.” “Don’t worry about that. I’m not interested in having a girlfriend.” Then, he switched to English. “I have to ride with my dad to the airport. See you later.” They walked around me while I stood frozen, the Noro yarn between my fingers the only thing I felt. I squeezed it hard, grounding myself in the rich, familiar texture. My feet finally moved, taking me upstairs to my room. I tossed my bag down, kicked my shoes off, and yanked on my headphones. Curling up in the corner of my bed, my heavy blanket over my shoulders, I let my head fall back against the wall as rhythmic beats poured into my ears. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

BRANDON!” I stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around me, “Brandon!” He came bursting through the door less than a second later, “What’s wrong?!” His eyes were wide and panicked. “Are you okay?” I laughed and nodded, “My water just broke!” “Are you serious?” His face fell for a few beats then broke out into a wide grin. Closing the distance between us he kissed me until my knees were weak. When he pulled back, he cupped my cheeks tenderly and smiled. “So he’s coming?” “Guess so, you ready for this?” Brandon suddenly gasped, “Wait, we have to go! That means we have to go!” He turned around and took off into the bedroom. By the time I dried myself off, I could hear him on the phone with either my family or his. I felt strangely calm as I pulled on the dark blue shirt, and searched around for a clean pair of sweats. Brandon rushed out of the room with the hospital bag, I heard the front door open, close, open and close again before he came running back to me. I was sitting on the bed smiling at his behavior. “Harper, we have to go. Come on sweetheart, is there anything else you can think of?” “Phone chargers.” I watched as he yanked both ours from the wall. “Headphones, can you grab me one of your sweatshirts?” I didn’t care if it was September, the nights were cool, and when we’d been in that hospital last week, it was freezing. “What else?” “I need you to kiss me, then calm down and drive us to the hospital.

Remember when I said I was a bit scattered? It wasn’t just when it came to jobs. I had a slew of strange ex-boyfriends, too. There was George, who liked to wear my underwear . . . everyday. Not just to prance around in—he wore them under his Levi’s at work. As a construction worker. That didn’t go over well with his co-workers once they found out. He works at Jamba Juice now. I don’t think anyone cares about what kind of underwear he wears at Jamba Juice. Then there was Curtis. He had an irrational fear of El Caminos. Yes, the car. He just hated them so much that he became really fearful of seeing one. He’d say, “I don’t understand, is it a car or a truck?” The confusion would bring him to tears. When we were walking on the street together, I had to lead him like a blind person because he didn’t want to open his eyes and spot an El Camino. If he did, it would completely ruin his day. He would cry out, “There’s another one. Why, God?” And then he would have to blink seven times and say four Hail Marys facing in a southerly direction. I don’t know what happened to Curtis. He’s probably in his house playing video games and collecting disability. After Curtis came Randall, who will never be forgotten. He was an expert sign spinner. You know those people who stand on the corner spinning signs? Randall had made a career of it. He was proud and protective of his title as best spinner in LA. I met him when he was spinning signs for Jesus Christ Bail Bonds on Fifth Street. He was skillfully flipping a giant arrow that said, “Let God Free You!” and his enthusiasm struck me. I smiled at him from the turn lane. He set the sign down, waved me over, and asked for my phone number. We started dating immediately. He called himself an Arrow Advertising executive when people would ask what he did for a living. He could spin, kick, and toss that sign like it weighed nothing. But when he’d put his bright-red Beats by Dre headphones on, he could break, krump, jerk, turf, float, pop, lock, crip-walk, and b-boy around that six-foot arrow like nobody’s business. He was the best around and I really liked him, but he dumped me for Alicia, who worked at Liberty Tax in the same strip mall. She would stand on the opposite corner, wearing a Statue of Liberty outfit, and dance to the National Anthem. They were destined for each other. After Randall was Paul. Ugh, Paul. That, I will admit, was completely my fault.

Binaural beats Binaural beats therapy makes use of the fact that when you present the left and right ear with two tones of slightly different frequency, the brain perceives a third, different sound: a ‘binaural beat’. Depending on their frequency, binaural beats are said to help reduce anxiety and induce sleep. All you need to check them out for yourself is a set of headphones and access to YouTube, where there are many samples available. The Synctuition meditation app also has some brilliantly relaxing examples to try.