Isn't it the most shitty thing to try and find something to write, but all there is to write about is that your parents are divorcing?

Well, to me it is. A lot of things are going to happen–mom and dad signing papers, selling the house, and we are going to follow the general every-other-week model. I have cried, and I've been sad. People ask if I'm angry, they say it's okay to be, but what meaning is there to blame people for not loving each other? They can't control their emotions and it's something I'll have to accept, something I accepted easier than I thought I would have.

I ate an apple from our apple tree today, wondering if this is the last summer I'll get to do that. There are so many memories in this house, and the fact that we are going to turn away from it hurts almost as much as the news about the divorce does. I will cling to the ugly yellow walls of the kitchen, and the door frame on which we've scribbled down me and my sisters have been since we were children. I will remember, look back as I walk past the house in the future with nostalgia.

There are times to hold on, and times to let go. This is a time I am going to just try to hold on, and try to remember what I'll leave. Eventually, I'll move on: but with the knowledge I did everything I could, that I cherished every moment. It's about balance, and without the people helping me through the weights would be too heavy.


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I have been at the countryside of the west coast, where wifi and just connection in general is a sacred treasure, and long story short when I finally managed to open Nouw it refused to make me post. Ugh. 

However, the week has been very calm. Not much happened there except rain, fleeing from mosquitos and swimming. There were surprisingly few jellyfish, I actually only saw one in the whole time we were there (not that I’m complaining, the less potentially dangerous sea animals the better). We made a trip to an island and walked across a mountain. There is something special with the west coast, and I think that especially when we were at the top of the mountain you really could see that. The steel-gray sea, the sun reflecting in it and the cold wind that still feels nice despite that you have goosebumps on your arms and legs. It is something that gets even more beautiful every time you see it (maybe because you learn soon to bring a sweater, which make you able to concentrate less on freezing your ass off and more about the view). 

There is an ice cream shop by the sea, in which they give humongous scoops of ice creams. I swear three scoops were literally the size of half a package Ben&Jerry’s. After being in Italy one week earlier the ice cream was good, but hard compared to the gelato and I broke many plastic spoons before managing to take a bite ;-; . After figuring that out we sat in the cold wind coming from the sea, shuddering as we ate out ice creams. Luckily we found blankets, and wrapped in them we ate our ice cream. 

The evenings have been spent playing countless hours of card games that were interrupted by either pie or tea. It is a very powerful feeling to have a cup of tea standing next to you while playing bullshit and taking a sip out of it once in a while like a true British earl. One day we tried to row out to yet another little island, our neighbors told us we could borrow their boat. The problem? The wind was blowing like there was no tomorrow, and the bridge had collapsed. We tried to walk out to the boat, we really did, but the wind was the one who won in the end and we ate our picnic on a little beach close to the boat instead.

I am positive I am going to explode with anticipation for the mixtape Suga is going to release, but except for that I think that’s it. 




My life.

This is my aspiring blog, which will be about my life and probably most of the daily struggles of being trash. Honestly, I wasn't planning on blogging, despite my dad nagging about that I should be for like two years now. Instead a friend that I've known since May managed to talk me into this (sorry, dad) in less than half an hour, and she has the responsibility to make me not slack off and forget making posts (I'Il usually make weekly posts unless the world is going under or I realize how to be productive. I doubt any of the two will happen in my lifetime).

I should probably introduce myself (who am I kidding, of course. I’m Jo, as earlier mentioned I’m very much trash and I live in Sweden. I’m honestly never going to understand why people travel to Sweden, because to put it frankly Sweden is kind of a really dull country. Except for the fact that males can push strollers without people gawking, it’s basically just coldness, cinnamon buns (people love them; we even have a national cinnamon bun day) and one hell of a lot of dialects in such a small country.

I was born in USA (San Francisco, man) and some people nod when I tell them and say ”Yeah you kind of act American”. I moved back to Sweden when I wasn’t even two years old, so I don’t know if it really affects my personality in any way, or if that’s even a compliment or insult. Like, USA is big, and by telling me I act American do they mean that I’m outgoing and value cheese over anything else, or that I seem like a person who thinks carrying around guns are okay but kinder eggs aren’t?

I spend most of my time trashing over YouTubers, Asian boys who may or may not even exist and fictional characters from TV-series. A lot of unnecessary time is spent playing cards and mafia (or the more badass name, Werewolf) with friends. I don’t have any pets, though my younger sister has a little hamster which is really cute, but also reminds me of the hat fic which is kind of really terrible. I’d like to have a turtle as a pet though.

I don’t dream big, which sounds really sad but really is not. I think it’s connected to my laziness and ability to procrastinate subconsciously, which is why I never really planned to blog. I’m doing that now though so who knows–maybe I’m suddenly making a turn and will become USA’s president. One thing I really want to do is learn Cantonese, because I feel it will be to us what learning English two generations back was to them. Also, I’ve heard that as a Cantonese speaker it’s a lot easier to understand Mandarin than vice versa (there’s also the tiny detail that it’s a lot more fun to say néih hóu than nǐ hǎo).

I think that should summarize it: have a nice time reading my future posts (if you make it through them), please act as if I’m funny even if I’m not and enjoy the rest of your day (or night, depending on when you’re reading this. You are way too tired if you choose to read this at night though, go to sleep).