person tying his shoe on road

everything, i think. i want to do everything.

and also nothing. i also want to do nothing.

and also i want to eat pizza.

i have a *great* train of thought.

i’ve done what i think is my brightest idea, and that was to unplug the janky laptop and move to my room, with the aqua fan that isn’t as powerful as it was a year ago, with the horrible pink colors and the splash of blue i added as a minor act of rebellion. personally, it makes the space more lively. the window’s doors are open, and rain is softly hitting the leaves and hopefully taking away pieces of the poor bird skeleton that rests on the ivy. i have no clue what it’s doing there and i’d rather not know.

i’m playing the stargirl soundtrack, and i’m alone in my room, and i think,

“i could live forever.”

i haven’t decided yet what i’ll do after this odd little ramble is over. perhaps i’ll watch a movie. or a tv show on the list i promised myself i’d finish in the summer. or maybe i could *actually* do the s.t.e.m homework i’m supposed to do so i don’t have to repeat a grade in the fall. or maybe i could conquer the world. or dance in the rain. the possibilities are endless.

or, i could trash cats (2019).
because, honestly, everything started going downhill when that accursed trailer came out, no?


there is a strange little gap between want vs need that insists on being as difficult to traverse as possible. do i need to speed through a couple of units that i’m already late for? yes. do i want to record songs i wrote last year on the ukulele in the bathroom (that’s where the great acoustics are)? yes. am i gonna forget the standoff and hop between tumblr and pinterest for the rest of the day? you know what, probably.

indecision will be the hardest choice i ever have to make.

i saw this guy sit outside his house, connect a guitar to some old speaker, and play a soft tune to echo through the street in the middle of tuesday heat, and i wanted to go and listen, because music. and because once a few months ago i was playing ukulele and he came up with the guitar and asked me if i thought it was a good guitar. and then i played it and i said it was great. and then he told me he made it himself. that’s when i felt really bad i avoided people as much as i did. because people.

but that was a few months ago, and here we were, and i stood in the middle of the living room, and thought that i could alter the course of my fate by going downstairs, walking to his place, sitting down, and playing along with him. or i could just crawl up on a kitchen table and look up the legend of korra until i passed out, but that didn’t seem fate-altering. somehow, either step i took would be a path toward something.

so i didn’t move. because fear.

i guess i won’t know what the rest of that day would’ve looked like if i followed the music. did i want the music? i’m not sure. did i need it?

i’m not sure.

and so, i didn’t do anything. how odd.

but… i want to do more. and be more. even if it’s just a little bit. i think, in a way, so does everyone who walks the earth and watches the news and exists on this weird little planet. more. to want more. perhaps that’s not necessarily a bad thing as it is a human thing, who knows?

but even if i don’t become more, does that limit me from doing more?

it’s funny how i say this right after waking up from an accidental nap. my thoughts are all jumbled. oh well. nothing pizza can’t cure.


~my grand plan, just you wait and see, jo~

if you fidget long enough the hours literally fly by

i woke up around lunch time. the fact that i fell asleep around 5 am should evoke sympathy.

ogrhulkjarehngiu what do i put next

oh, i got to wear my favorite shirt today. it’s grey and it’s supposed to be xl and i stole it from my uncle’s clean laundry stash and it’s my favorite and has cool words and i like how it feels and looks and don’t tell my uncle because he won’t stop teasing me for being a midget and i am *not* a midget, i’m just really good at picking out everyone’s best items and then taking them

“there’s only the Vibe” a friend once typed in our group chat after i sent in some workings for an oc that will never see the light of day. my character is both a stereotype and breaks all of them, and i was thinking her ambiguousness would be fun to portray, the way that pinning “background character of your favorite show” to your shirt (the grey one, with green accents) automatically makes you very cool. maybe i’ll talk about my oc sometime. maybe i won’t. ambiguousness, you know?

and that’s that on doing everything and nothing all at once.

i don’t know. that’s what i do know.

i don’t know why my mind is firing off in the distance. i don’t know why i enjoy walking around singing ben platt songs at three am to an empty house, i don’t know why marvel makes disappointing filipino superheroes, and i don’t know why rice noodles and spaghetti don’t work well together. maybe because spaghetti is more wheatier. who knows.

and then i think about the concept of borrowing. how everything that makes me me was taken from someone or someplace i don’t remember, long ago.

i live on borrowed land, i’ve grown up on borrowed culture, i dress in thrift store clothes and things saved from ending up in the trash, i wear bracelets passed from person to person, the shoes i wear were carefully stored as its previous owner moved on to better things (better feet? no) and i write these words knowing that its abstract wildness didn’t stem from me, and i wonder, what can i truly call my own that i came into?

nothing. perhaps that’s the beauty of it.

it’s not like people seem to keen on saving their little mannerisms, their stories, their things. it all goes to the trash. and that seems very sad. little objects and tools and knicknacks are little and tiny and should be saved at all costs. why just chuck them away?

there’s a reason i grew up interested in dumpsters. there’s others. i’ve told a few people why. idk, i like the idea of being the catchall for everything unwanted. it’s cool.

like, you know, here? in the islands? trash is like… treasure. depending on where you are and what time is it and can the aguirres’ tattletale lola watch you lug one of the hotel’s discarded speakers away, or is she busy chasing the newest dogs off her chickens? important stuff. and plastic and spare things like that are all kinda important. i was out on the beach yesterday and there were so many plastic bottles. like the little ones. they seemed so lonely.

and there were no dumpsters for them to go to.


but here i am, spewing nonsense like the water from the sink on tuesdays. nobody here cares about trash. but then, what do you care about? sunsets, mugs with coffee, fries and onion rings, friendship bracelets, polaroids, stories, people?

they all go one place in the end. trash just happened to get there first.

and maybe that’s okay.

like weeds are only weeds if you see them that way. it could be an happy little flower, like bob ross and his happy little trees that technically don’t need to be there but they certainly don’t hurt anything by existing. and that’s all they need to do. exist. it must be terribly difficult to assign roles and purposes for every single organism on earth to feel like everything is there for the greater good.

maybe this is the greater good. to stare at the wall above the stove after yeeting a gecko out of my bedroom (little son of a tax collector made a mess out of my shirts. not nice, mr. gecko, beGONE) and see stars appear out of nowhere. to slide into the kitchen with a piece of cloth that we’ll pretend is a cape, holding a mug in one hand and singing ben rector songs. to dress up as heroes and actively save the world in my mind. imagine. a hero. can you imagine that, wall? heroes.

i wonder what the wall’s favorite shirt is. bet you lunch it probably has green accents and is softer than my roommate’s blankets.

~i wanna eat pancakes for dinner, jo~

you had a name

dark pathway lit with small light fixture

“I can’t breathe.”

the house is quaking with thunder, and i feel numb inside.

“I was just going home.”

you could’ve gone so many places. you could’ve been going for a walk, or to a party, or to your friend’s house, or on a mini adventure, or travelling across the world, and now… well. you’ve gone.

and you just wanted to go home.

“I’m an introvert.”

hey, me too man. you know what, sometimes i sneak out of the house just to wander down the street and watch the waves for an hour. or on top of the roof to stare at the stars. because then there’s no people, and people are scary, and sometimes people pass dangerous things, like sickness and disease and hate. you get that. you got that.

“I’m just different. That’s all.”

you were a musician. you played violin for the cats at the pet shop. you worked as a massage therapist. you liked music and people and cats and you had a story, you were different and you were beautiful.

and you were black.

that’s the only different thing anyone saw.

“I’m so sorry. I have no gun. I don’t do that stuff. I don’t do any fighting. Why are you attacking me?

why did you apologize? you didn’t do anything wrong. and even if you did have a gun, why would that brand you as someone deserving of the treatment you received, when the very country you were living in has made such a big deal of its rights to tote around weapons? that shouldn’t have convicted you, none of this should’ve happened. they weren’t supposed to attack.

they. weren’t. supposed. to. attack.

Forgive me. All I was trying to do was become better. I will do it. I will do anything. Sacrifice my identity, I’ll do it. 

i don’t understand. i don’t understand why you said that, i don’t understand why anyone has to say that, and why nobody listens to them. i don’t know why this hurts so much, and the not knowing hurts even more.

i’ve said the same words and suffered for years for it. i’ve tried to suppress and hide so many messy, dangerous, human aspects of myself to be accepted, but to beg for my life? nobody should have to do that. nobody.

You all are phenomenal. You are beautiful and I love you.

they forced you on the ground.
they were choking you to death.
they let their cameras slip.
they were not listening.
somehow, you gave grace that they would never have even considered for yourself.
that’s astounding, in every way that hurts.

“”Try to forgive me. I’m a mood Gemini. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Ow, that really hurt.

what was done to be forgiven or punished for? walking? wearing a mask? being black? what was right in this situation that let it go unnoticed for months, that it only got brought back up after yet another person’s death? i mean, what happened to “innocent until proven guilty”? what happened to kindness? why did you say such soft words?

You are all very strong. Teamwork makes the dream work.

teamwork is for goals and dreams and futures, and collectively driving toward good. for sports and games and restaurants and the small gentle things of life. for nerf wars and water balloon fights, for games of tag and hide and seek and going places. teamwork shouldn’t be to attack a defenseless person for simply existing differently from you.

because what kind of twisted dream is it to hurt other people?

“Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to do that. I just can’t breathe correctly.”

every person that has ever existed was born crying for air. to apologize for that… to apologize for one of the first things that… that make us human?

i am so sorry.

i’m so sorry that it took ten months. ten. months. let your name be heard, for justice to be demanded. the world is a horrible place to exist sometimes, even when it knows.

they snuffed out a light, and now they’re mad because everyone’s trying to strike matches for a fire.

your name was elijah mcclain. i’m sorry we forgot.

and… and may the light you left with be picked up. soon.

because it feels so horribly dark.

~the dark comes crashing through, jo~

UPDATE: i forgot to leave sources so you can find out for yourself, and i think that’s especially important right now, so here you go:



everything all at once, i suppose

i have never made sense, i never will, don’t worry too much about it

sick Archives - Reaction GIFs



breakdown and


get to choose the level of teenage angst

*i n h a l e s*

hi! i’m jo! i identify as a moron, allergies include shrimp, dust mites, and the whole world apparently, unaddressed depression Thriving, and you’re watching


where nothing, and i can’t stress this clearly enough, nothing, goes right

featuring! war! bloodshed! government invasion of privacy! the beginnings of trauma! my nonexistent sanity! and most importantly, pizza with pineapple on it!

have f u n with That, Kids!

when i die say something nice
wear comfy pajamas and bring fried rice
watch all the instagram stories i set to private
the things i’ve only said in the silence

when i die please gather round
pretend i was a memory you won’t throw out
wipe your tears and blow your nose
forget about it all when you go

when i die if i ever called you friend
do me a favor and for an hour pretend
that the person you came to grieve
actually made any mark in the light of eternity

my pinterest feed seems to worry about me and i admire that very much

like lately it’s been full of angry twitter posts and tumblr rants that cry for the dystopian protagonists to begin saving the day and like, can we handle that rn? nope

so now it has art of fantastical places and edits and happy comics and baking recipes and room inspiration and laugh out loud trashposts and all of this grossly domestic vibe which is super sweet but i wouldn’t ever say that if my life depended on it (nevermind that i just did)

the question is is it pinterest,

or is it the people who i follow that saved me from stressing over another source of bad news

either way, thank you

the following is a snippet of something i sent in to select friends, enemies, and undecided, and i figured it fit with the crack vibes this is emanating, so here you go

"i cannot talk very well. 
especially to big macho guys. 
especially if said big macho guy had seen me successfully hurl a knife into a palm tree and cackle like a stereotypical witch 
(more on that later.)
"a n x i et yyyyy"

i figured this out last night watching the storm beat down on the windows and honestly it passes the vibe check

my greatest fear is being irrelevant


and i wonder why, you know? is it a mental thing to feel everything more deeply than they’re meant to be? is it just me? could i just inherently not be good enough for anyone to want to interact? will i be doomed to leaving people too stunned to react?

and i don’t know
how would i

what is the point of art if nobody sees it? what is the purpose of a message that isn’t heard? why say anything if nobody listens? why exist if it ultimately doesn’t matter?

and i struggle with reminding myself that things don’t require a useful purpose to be loved, and that is Okay, like how technically nobody needs nutella but the world would be a dismal place without it

and perhaps insignificance isn’t a horror, because then when you do anything nobody can say “but you’re supposed to be meaningful!” because you never were to begin with
so you can just reply, “no, i’m being me” and that’s the best meaningful you can get

so here’s the thing

we’ve saying “black lives matter” seriously for a couple of weeks now and the message has been cried out for literal years

and yet, the overwhelming response seems to be “we Know, Stop Saying It :((”

and that’s frustrating

people being hurt without reason is frustrating. the hurters getting away with it is frustrating. the people who were supposed to help about it doing the exact opposite is frustrating. being ignored and being rejected and being laughed at and being forgotten is frustrating.

so no wonder people shout

just all that to say

harm can be passive

a m i n i p la y l i s t

it would be you – ben rector
so will i – ben platt
battle cry – the family crest
paper rings – taylor swift
king of anything – sara barielles

a self portrait

“don’t we look m a r v e l o u s, isn’t it g a y” – talkfine
(look colors)

oooh some beautiful people did some beautiful things lately:

look it’s weez!

evelyn seems so cool

sarah cracked me up

ahhh clara

and finally some closing notes:

  • it’s summer
  • if you look up june 13 2019 and june 13 2020 on here they’re both drastically different but about the same thing
  • it’s summer!!
  • for independence day everyone should watch hamilton and reconsider their heritage (and also donate to a charity of their choice)
  • look up juneteenth and be still for a moment
  • google baby ducks tripping over their feet
  • call enni a duck in her about page on the 27th (pls i’m not kidding)
  • summer!!
  • remember it’s june love who you love and also respect people’s pronouns
  • do something absolutely horribly stupidly childishly fun that screams summer because yes

⎯  𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 : @𝘱𝘢𝘷𝘭𝘹𝘷𝘦 🔮 * ·゚

~we’re all a little mad sometimes, jo~

twitter bio talk

We're on a never ending quest to find the very best artistic plant backgrounds, screensavers & wallpapers. Follow our Plant Photography board for minimalist plant art, aesthetic, & close up inspiration.#SativaScienceClub #PlantArt #PlantPhotography

i was scrolling on twitter waiting for class to start on zoom (because that’s a thing now) and joe walker’s bio stuck out in all the itty bitty textposts about cats and covid and cheese curdles

most bios go like this:

*insert name*/ *insert age*/ *insert pronouns*/ *insert hobbies/ *insert any random thing here*

*cutesy quote stolen from tumblr*

*lists every single project they were lucky to earn money from*

*occupation followed with a phd*

*very clearly a fandom reference waiting to be noticed*

*something absolutely absurd*

joe walker’s went like this:

be excellent to each other

no periods, nothing formal

just be excellent to each other.

and i thought that was cool.

because we’re not really good at doing that.

at the very least we have “be nice” or “be the bigger person”, like somehow to swell oneself up to be superior than your equally flawed fellow person under the pretense of being better is a good thing. and who knows that in trying to be the bigger person, we just prove that we’re the smallest of them all? and what’s wrong with being small? who decided these sizes would mean moral competence?

we’re just confusing like that, aren’t we?

people are the worst at being people. they lie, they cheat, they hurt, they curse, they invent laws to keep other people out, they create a world that has decades worth of trauma that may never ever properly heal. is it the sinner in need of a savior? is it the way it’s always been? is it our own passively accepted depravity? is it all of the above?

but joe walker’s just like. be excellent to each other.

we don’t really use excellent casually, so to read it in a twitter bio hits differently. excellent. what is excellent? the spam of kudos on a particularly precious piece of fanfic worked so hard on? a beautiful photograph? a catchy song? the hearts of all the dudes and dudettes and to-be-decided that are just exuding love and care into a broken world by showing up and doing their jobs every single day? is it the livestreams and the youtube videos and the singing comps? is it all of it?

maybe excellence is so commonly simple it’s the rarest thing of them all.

i’m not sure where i was going with that. i’m not sure that this post, or this blog, or this person can even be considered excellent.

but i figure it can’t hurt to try. to reach out, to speak up, to fall hard, to truly care, to talk to that kid not really responding on the chat, to not hesitate to call someone out on their small-mindedness, to be aware of my own dangerous flaws and habits and fix them, to be both accepting and cautious, to not care what people will say or think, to not let my fears control me, to truly be okay with being the messed up, broken, happy person i am, to get to the point where i can look at the reflection in the mirror and actually smile, to be someone for someone. maybe not everyone but at least one someone.

the excellence thing could easily be taken to the point of humanistic tendencies. but so could hate. so could fear. so could anger. maybe it’s better to err on the side of goodness.

at least on our bios we can say we we tried,

and maybe in saying that, we actually start to be excellent.

that would be cool.

joe walker cool.

(he’d know. he played voldemort.)

~each and every one of our immortal souls, jo~

i’ve killed three people (well, thought about it anyway)

10 Reasons to Watch Starkid’s The Trail to Oregon – Short Story Long

everyday i start to sympathize with junior from starship a little more because all bugs can DIE, thANK you very MUCH. good DAY. you are NO friend of MINE, SIR.


that wasn’t the point.

(not that there was a point, but for the sake of the topic at hand we’ll make up for ourselves, an imaginary point, sharpened to perfection by everyone’s blatant disappointment that i’m not a doctor making money and my own internal angst that i’m not a doctor or making money.
specifically the money part.
that wasn’t the point either.
forget i said anything.)


i have stolen a towel to protect my fair, hyposensitive skin from further insect attacks and these questions from maya’s blog, so with my casual confession to theft, we shall begin.


or not.

whichever happens first.

What is one vice you must fight against the most often?

aLL of ThEM

Which fictional character can you relate to the most and why?

lex foster from black friday because girl same, charles boyle from b99 because girl same, and agent curt mega from spies are forever because girl same. and diane from awae because i too would switch train seats to yell at gilbert for being a moron. oops that was more than one–

Pick three historical figures you wish to meet and have tea/coffee with. What you would discuss with them?

shrabani basu, katherine johnson, and nick lang let’s talk science, spies, and storytelling masterpieces queens

What story world would you choose to live in until your dying breath?

snaaaaap nothing’s coming to mind rn, but maybe something from the mandalorian, awae, or little women? i’d say hawkins and hatchetfield but i’d like to live thank you very much.

actually no i’m choosing wakanda wakanda sounds dope let’s head there permanently

What is one movie you wish more people would watch? (Or a book if you’re really not into films.)

you should not have asked me, a beloved film addict and analyst, for just the one that was a m i s t a k e
-jojo rabbit
-hidden figures
-a beautiful day in the neighborhood
-knives out
-this is too much oops

What is your preferred weapon of murder?

see, i’m a simple potato. knives are just *chef’s kiss* sleek. equally thrilling are those small handguns most often seen in noir films. singing the reprises from every musical also works.

Do you prefer fiction, nonfiction, or poetry (to read, write, etc.)?

it really depends on my nonexist emotional status. if i’m mostly stable we can do nonfiction. if i’m in angst mode we will read every last fic from the ethan green & hannah foster tag and we. will. not. stop. everrrr

If you could be one age for a day, what age would you be and what would you do?

*at this point the little sonofawordwewon’tsayhereforthelittlechildren— the mosquito returned to be the physical representation of my imposter syndrome and forced me to grab another towel. now i look like that blankets and sunglasses vine. it’s for survival*

17, so when people ask if i’m the dancing queen i can go hAh yoU thOuGHT

… or 21, so i can do everything without someone asking if i should ask my parents for permission. i choose to buy 36 frozen pizzas, thank you very much

Do you ship Earnin and Imraldera? (if you don’t know who they are or don’t know the answer, it’s easy: it’s yes, you do)

what a flabbergasting ship name that would be, no thank you

Which of your bloggery buddies (alliteration always amazes) would you end and why (back to murder, we are!). How would you cover it up?

is this
is this advocating for murder
how violent
probably enni, because she can’t seem to die. and i’d just say she was gonna go try finding the aflac duck and that would suffice.

(seriously tho don’t do the murder kids)

and that was that

enjoy your day folks and never miss an opportunity to smash a bug into a dead little pulp

if you care to spread the sentiment:

-when does all this craziness officially become a dystopian
-what’s the strangest word you ever heard
-who let the dogs out
-how do you respond to facebook clickbait
-what’s does the a in “jo a ruth” stand for (wrong answers only)
-what is the worst star wars movie
-how would you remove evidence of arson, given 5 minutes and a tool of your choice
-whaaaat dooo youuu know about loveeeeeee

~your wagon is on fiREEEEEEEEE, jo~

some of the best people to breathe and no i’m not biased

Happy GIFs | Tenor

mmm.  do you know what day it is? no? 

i dIdN’t tHinK sO


i’ve been staring at this screen for like, almost all of today– either doing school, crying over how beautiful lauren lopez is, passively aggressively creating and deleting new posts, shaking my fist at how beetlejuice was robbed, or agonizing at how i’m doomed to be forever alone in the world. just some casual activities, to be contemplating one’s future at an age where nothing about that one person or the future is certain. fun stuff. 

but then i had the bright idea of making it even more fun by fanpersoning over some (because i can literally never shut up) of my favorite people online for like a minute or two. not super long, just long enough for everyone reading to be absolutely convinced that i’ve gone mad and to do the sensible thing and run away.

and now, in no particular order, here it is. have fun.



gracie chick @ a light in the darkness

OKAY GIRL WHERE DO I START? likeeeeeee gah you’re involved in so many important efforts and you’re out here getting ready to do ted talks and take the stage and bring a lot of issues to the table for discussion. you’re passionate about being a catalyst for change and you never fail to remind people that the younger generation is more than capable of doing good that lasts, which you are living proof of. you’re also such a fun person to talk to about pretty much everything, and leaving a conversation with you is always refreshing. also, for some wild reason i can’t understand, you still think my work is good like whut? ahem, in so many words, we stan, and i can’t wait to see where you go and how you get there, you utterly amazing person. 

bayance @ bayance

hello! bay! now that i’ve gotten your attention PLS GET ME OFF THE BLACKLIST I DO NOT MAKE PEOPLE CRY BY BEING ANGSTY AND WEIRD AND THEREFORE ALL YOUR ACCUSATIONS ARE FALSE but with truth, with a lot of truth, i sincerely love your work and your voice and your wonderful, unique, outstanding grandma self. all your posts have the ability to stun me into seriousness or crack me up hilariously, which i think is amazing. i feel so bad for you everytime you share an embarrassing story and then i feel so happy to know you exist literally every single time you’re around. despite following different faiths, your devotion to yours really inspires me in mine, which i think is so cool, just like you.

amie @ amie anne

my one problem with ames, a queen of comedy, the creator of shirley, a wonderful person to talk to and hang out with? probably that due to my admittedly shorter stature (especially in relation to hers) every single time i try to be a tough, kickbutt, fatale jo, amie immediately just pats my head and goes something like “aw youse adorable woodstock”. which is tRuE, but still. but that’s literally the only thing because amie is one of the few people i can hold an hour (or two) long conversation about literally anything and just look forward to sharing minds and hearts and thoughts over all the topics. amie knows what she’s talking about, and more than that, she just knows. she combines life blogging with lifestyle blogging really well and also her makeup post was amazing, stop sleeping on it. (ALSO AMES I AM STILL A SLYTHERIN. *little woodstock trying to cross their arms expression*)

rose @ wingeddoglibrary (on instagram)

okay look rose is amazing and i will be prepared to fight anyone who tells me otherwise so please do not try. beside the facts that her book photos are amazing, her book recs in general are solid, and her thoughts on stories and fiction are so well thought out and deep, just rose in the entirety of her character and her work is so rich and full and just so, so much fun to talk to and share thoughts with. she’s not afraid to stand up for people who still aren’t appreciated in our society and i admire both her stance on a lot of things and her way of expressing said stance. rose also falls into the “dear heAvens they’re so talented and kindhearted and funny and brave WHY in the world are they talking to me” group that i will never understand, but i’ll definitely take any day with. if i go into further detail i might talk my head off and i probably already have been talking my head off, but rose. you’re wonderful. i’m glad we met via this fascinating platform. that is the post. (yes i have a lofi crush and please accept that because honestly i can’t imagine who wouldn’t) 

clara @ midnight mind

okay so like clara and i only started talking talking (like, actual talking, not just talking for the sake of talking) because i sent her a picture of one of lemony snicket’s books at the college library and then later, when i was abruptly forced to relocate, it was a letter from her and that same book from a different branch that helped me not cry so much. her wonderful self has still been there, even through a few oceans and multiple timezones away as i moved again (although i will say that for all the time you live up to your blog name, clara, i always get told to sleep first and i think that’s unfair for plant based entities such as myself). the way she weaves words and snaps them into being just like her photos is outstanding, and i have cried more than once because of her posts from sheer goodness. i love her work so much and i think more people should be aware of its wonderfulness okay okay i’ll shut up


gahh there’s so many people still i wanna mention (rhi [JASON MUST BE PROTECTED AT ALL COSTS], zander [i sleep healthyish okay], enni [again because who else slides down the stairs in a laundry basket?? iconic], meredith [i’m so sorry for not responding in time and also you are so cool] and weez [all the collabs we planned… *hangs head in shame* my most sincere apologies, just to name a few) but if i kept talking i’d bore you if i haven’t already. so instead of me hogging the appreciation day, please drop your favorite bloggers, instagrammers, and cool online people below, cause it’s fun and also any love spread is wonderful.

i’ll… i’ll go explain my sudden boyle-style fansquealing to everyone mentioned now, okay byeeee

~and not run out of things to talk about, jo~

shut up and listen

Chelsea Peretti Music GIF - ChelseaPeretti Music ...
jo talks about movie soundtracks very personally because they have no life

gifted is the frubs. it’s both gentle and calm with little twinkling sounds while having intense cinematic crescendos mixed with intellect and thoughtful discussions, a bit of sadness and a lot of pain, a lot of wishful thinking and peace and war all wrapped up in the story of two unlikely people who become family. it sounds and feels just like him, and i regret not telling him that on the long drives between campus and walmart, where he’d inevitably ask me if the guy at the library talked to me and i’d whack him with an empty candy bar wrapper.

ladybird is the one and only tess. it captures jaunty, fun, good-to-be-alive vibes with bittersweet, heartaching tunes to what growing up and having to deal with so much of the world’s nonsense on top of personal angst is like. it’s classic at times, punk rock at others, lofi and hifi and screaming and quiet, an ever changing entity that exists with its character. it’s the muted backdrop to a vivid life, it’s messy in a beautiful way, it’s tess and i hope her narrative proves to be richer and fuller than anyone can try to imagine with songs from another character’s life.

many beautiful things is bun, little whispers from past dreams, continuous rippling piano that invites peace. when you close your eyes you see a small cafe almost completely covered in ivy on the far side of town, “we’re open!” sign hanging on the freshly painted door, chairs neatly arranged, old classics lying around like friends waiting to be picked up. someone spins their hair into a knot, sipping a little latte as they lose themselves in another book. it’s full of both eagerness and tired smiles, sacred worship and playful dancing, singing of a better time that’s bound to come soon, if at all. it’s the little known story of the woman who will not be silenced, and it’s amazing.

the little prince is enni, so many thoughts being woven together, seeking an order to all of the ideas and hopes and dreams, all of the goals and attempts and dedication. it’s fun, it’s studious, it presents an ebb and flow to unbridled creativity and thinking, and it’s something you start listening to out of curiousity and end up staying to pay attention to, because the story it has to tell is so deep and full and demands an audience to its developing message. it speaks of a person who isn’t afraid to think, but shares those special, wild thoughts to just the few who understand enough to appreciate. i’m grateful to be a witness to enni’s mind, and i can just imagine how far it’ll take her.

inside out is rebekah, and the variety of moods in it just adds to the complicated beauty of growing up. it’s swirly and varied and full of a bubbling, shimmery sound that speaks to the existence of beauty in the world, an invitation to explore life and the workings behind it. it’s playful, it’s childlike, it’s invigorating, it’s serious, it’s sad, it’s somber. i hope the spark of being a kid and doing silly little things never dies, rebs, and i just know that your grasp on life will reach heights i can only hope to watch in awe.

as for everyone reading this now,

bring on the monsters seems to fit pretty accurately to all of the current chaos

anyway this was fun. i might do it again.


~cause we’re usually about to die, jo~

shoulda known this would happen


what a funky time to be alive.

the fact that i used the word funky in relation to the act of living should concern you.

mmm. what even?

a plastic bowl sits on the counter above me, a few breadcrumbs scattered on its rim. two minutes ago it held the most basic white bread toast with absolutely nothing on it, not because there was nothing else in the raided kitchen from whence it came, but its consumer was too lazy to actually look.

the dress code for quarantine day who knows is as follows‌:‌ one (stolen) oversized, thrice worn shirt found by rummaging through the wash, a pair of shorts that still have intact pockets, whatever fits inside a tired hair tie, and absolutely no respect for societal norms. in previous iterations of this day, some actual thought behind outfits existed, but now that everyone’s pretty much comfortable with everyone else they’re stuck with, nobody pays attention if one wears the same thing three days straight. it’s moreso that they’re happy, well fed, and okay with who they are that matters.

because if you aren’t gonna make peace with yourself, who’s gonna do it for you?

except, you know, everyone on social media, but since when did we use social media as an escape from the current reality of social distancing and a way to make ourselves feel connected even though we all know that this shallow sense of stability dies the instant we leave our phones, because humans are desperate like that? never. totally. we’re better than that, right? our efforts into doing something to bring gratification into our lives hasn’t been reduced to scrolling endlessly on instagram, right? we aren’t capitalizing on this pandemic to boost ourselves, r i g h t?

at this very moment, my phone is about to be invaded with a text to start thinking happy thoughts. i’ve narrowed down the possible senders to my uncle or to the chill group chat. alas. it shall go ignored and (very likely) deleted to cry over stargirl tonight.

it’s hard to be positive about everything when artists are losing jobs and people are dying and despite all of this, the people who should be doing something are too busy tweeting away their ignorance to feel validated. (no, i’m not trying to be subtle.)

it’s hard to know that for all the good i’ve experienced because the world was put on pause, someone’s getting the short end of the stick and they’re getting cut because of a virus that’s taking over the whole dang world. we are in a whack dystopian ya novel, and we don’t seem to acknowledge that because our minds can’t accept anything less than happiness.

but sure, let’s #flatten the curve.

this is cynical, isn’t it? yikes. i’m sorry. i have the ability to fit into an opposing negative mindset without personally agreeing with it and, well, that leads to pointless, intellectual conversations between me and the cat, or texts like the one above, so… i mean, make of that what you will.

otherwise it’s been alright.

no people means i can let my shaky voice echo through the empty lobby and pretend i have something worth saying. nobody around means i can dance my head off on the roof, wind whistling past my headphones as nobody can watch me make a fool out of myself letting the words fall out, dancing around in childish, childlike movements. i can watch the stars at night and the faint planes hopping in and out of constellations without the fear of creepy jerkwads watching me from their rooms. it’s almost freeing to be apart from society. which must say a lot about said society, but we don’t have the emotional health to get into that—

the point is life.



it’s like the mug cake i made on a whim a week (wait was it a week time is a construct of the matrix) ago, in which i literally just threw flour, sugar, chocolate, and oreo baking crumbs into a mug and threw that into the microwave, and i should’ve thrown the microwave out when the mixture exploded into this sweet, almost edible disaster dessert. there’s so much good and bad and sweet and sour and who-knows-what-those-weird-flecks-are, and to focus on one specific thing is like picking up a crumb and putting it under a microscope.

(what you should get from the above paragraph: life is cake. eat it up.)

and i want to capture all of that, all of that pain, that beauty, as chaotic as it is, because that’s what makes us. that’s life. and there’s so much to be said for living in the moment, no matter what you believe about living or what to live for.

holds it up like that meme ‌i just think it’s neat.

so idk what’s next for this blog. i’d like to branch out some more, bring a sense of depth to even the littlest things, do more reviews, talk about feminism, poke fun at everything possible, do something that would help me develop myself but also, gah, who knows, let someone on the web have a small drop of good in their life?‌ how should i know? i’m a kid, i have homework, i should be practicing, don’t ask me why i’m philosophical today because i do NOT know and that’s FACTS.


for the foreseeable future, i’d love to create whatever you’d like to see in, again, this weird worldwide headspace, so please, any topics or things you’re interested in or would like me to talk about, drop below. or just to talk. i’m down for both. @spiritupinsta is also up for anyone who wants some hopefully ‌feel good stuff for the soul (and if you’d like to help run the page, talk to meee), and recently i started @jodoeswords for more fictional pursuits (because again i fall into the struggling and broke artist type pls help) and ultimately?

i’m here. and i hope, somehow, someway, that means something. to. well, anyone.

i think we all do, and that’s why we’re here, trying to reach out in our individuality.

yeah. this got personal fast okay bye

~hey, you’ll be okay, jo~

how to get almost get hit by a car (the definitive version)

first you have to be 11. this is simple enough, wait til you turn the uncomfortable age or take a time travelling machine until you find yourself in the position of still having one year left of eating free at restaurants and grade school.

second, be a little dumb idiot that was trying their best to be a good little church child.

realize that nobody is going to actually take care of their younger and more insane children. get told by the higher authorities to deal with it. try to stick it out because you want recognition. little sinner.

barely keep everything together. crayons and paper are your best friends. so is playdough if it’s not smeared into the carpet. or your hair. or someone’s mouth. or all of the above.

learn how to glare at the annoying kid that mocks everything you do. forget that you’re a literal child and you should not be doing this stuff to begin with. start feeling incredibly guilty for children whose guardians should actually be guardianing.

get in the car on a nice day in october. drive 30 minutes to a new rec center. haul the stuff to the rec center.

wait for the horror to begin. (did you eat sugar? eat sugar.)

at this point you’re fairly experienced in picking up children. there’s two that are coming right now. this parking lot was not designed with families in mind, hence why you’re wearing sneakers. forget that only heathens wear sneakers to church and not good little children. you’re gonna have to forget a lot of things, really.

nO there’s a CAR—

foreshadowing my friend, foreshadowing.

raid the snack bar because you didn’t have breakfast. avoid the looks going your way. let the show begin.

there’s four kids now- wait, no, five, six? how many? good skies of– oh. okay. uh. let’s learn about Jesus!

wait for the explosion of energy and water spitting out of little kid mouths to come at you.

fine we’re coloring



no we’re not— FINe we’re watching youtube. kids these days

you’re ELEVEN. ELEVEN. idiot.

church is over, but you still have to watch the kids because that’s your job and that’s what you’re supposed to do, aren’t you so proud of yourself?

but you are because you’re eleven and the sky smells like apple picking and wind and cold and beautiful, and you’re eleven and you twirl around in your pea green jacket and little kid dress and sneakers and you could live forever, and you don’t realize that six little kids are running all over the place, climbing the beam, and you dropped like, all of those kids at one point in their small pampered lives and somehow they’re still letting you do this and isn’t it just amazing to be alive?

it is then, in this mindfog, when you don’t respond immediately when a little girl comes up and wants to play tag

at noon

in a busy parking lot

in the city


next step: grab her hand and make sure you cross the road safely so you can go home and read the library book you were looking forward to for a whole week.

and then, be absentminded like you always are, and become shOOKETH when she j e rks her hand away and starts running

in traffic

giggling like such a little kid

dress and jacket streaming behind her





start running


she thinks it’s a fun little game, oh yes, it’s a fun little game to flirt with possible death and grounding for a year (because that’s totally the worst thing that could ever happen, but you are, again 11, after all)



gah you IDIOT you should’ve

you got her! no wait, that’s just your sense of perception being flipped around. she’s actually running the other way

into the road

step onto the road without thinking

right in front of a car

touch the hood of the s t i l l m o v i n g car from the kinetic energy your body has from all the running

feel the car still move

watch the kid get away from the corner of your eye

wait the car


~i learned to slam on the brakes, jo~