It’s 10:51 p.m. on a Friday. I’m writing this from my living room couch. There are three sources of light—this computer, the TV, and the streetlight right outside my balcony window. Koko just lifted her head mid-sleep to stare at the TV. The Lady—the dog from Lady and the Tramp—was crying on screen. I guess they used real dog squeals because it woke Koko right up.
She’s curled up to my left while my niece is flanked on my right. My niece is completely taken by the animation. So am I, to be honest.
Lay (my niece) isn’t feeling well. She just finished emptying her stomach on my floor after I tried to put her to bed. Let me just say that I’ve come a long way from being nervous when I first started babysitting her, back when she weighed less than my dog. We were both pretty chill about the vomit this time. Flash forward about 30 minutes and a ton of back rubs later, she’s tucked in next to me with her cat plushie on one side and her bald-headed baby doll on the other.
I wrote an essay last week, so technically I should be posting a rom-com/trauma review today. But I haven’t had time to really sit down and watch those specific movies—and I still wanted to post something.
Lately, I keep waking up with a sense that I’ve been dreaming, but can’t remember what about. And when I do remember, the dreams don’t make any sense. I keep wondering if it’s because they’re not really my dreams—or at least, not entirely. There has to be some kind of science behind it. It probably exists somewhere between two SpongeBob episodes—like Sleepy Time, where he hops through everyone’s dreams, and the one where Squidward freezes himself and goes through a portal off a bean.
I tried listening to white noise to help me sleep, but that didn’t do nothing fr. So I did some admittedly conceited shit and started reading my old posts.
That’s actually what inspired me to write this tonight. I realized I love these kinds of entries—personal enough to feel relatable, but also like a record of me just being. When I read them back, I laugh and think, Damn, I remember this version of Janiel. She let those typos fly. I’m definitely rereading this post before I hit publish, though.
One of my earliest post took me all the way back to two years ago—around the time I really started listening to Cleo Sol. Not just playing her music in the background, but listening. Like, knowing the lyrics, and shit.
This past Monday, I finally got to see her live. And yo—it was magical. The mic was on, and hearts were opened. It felt like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of experience, I even bought merch lol. The thing that moved me the most wasn’t just her voice. It was the way the entire room felt held. There was something sacred about it—like we were all gathered around someone who knew how to put our feelings into words and melodies.
I looked around mid-show and saw so many faces, and for a moment, I felt connected—not just to them, but to the version of myself who once clung to those songs when I needed them most. It made me want to write again. So here I am.
Before I get too far, thank you. For reading this. Whether you’re someone I know or someone I’ve never met, thank you. Your time, your attention—it means a lot to me. And if we haven’t met yet, I hope one day we get to talk in person.
Since my old posts felt like time capsules, I’m adding some little notes to self here. Kind of in the spirit of my last post about multiplicity:
We got some news last week that’s changed our lives dramatically. I don’t know what’s next, but I’m excited—and nervous. But I’m trying to lean more into the excitement.
I’ve gotten really good at implementing boundaries with my family. So good, in fact, we even made a schedule with Lay.
I had to perform emergency toe surgery on Koko’s paw the other day (she had a cyst—she’s fine now).
I miss someone I probably shouldn’t. I think she’s still mad at me.
I’m enjoying this movie more than Lay is.
Lay started calling me “Nell”—as in “Aunty Nell.” Mind you, niggas never been bit by a rat
Did we go to New Orleans or reschedule?
I finally got flat-toe cowboy boots. But the question is: did I also buy the Our Legacy ones too?
I got this new cool-ass diffuser that got my room smelling scrumptious.
They really wylin with this AI shit
Oh, and Lay is still up and just blubbering while the Asritocats play—opp, wait! She just yawned (we're getting somewhere).
I’m gonna wrap this up. Continuing last week’s theme of multiples, here’s this week’s music video: a split-screen visual from Blood Orange’s classic album Negro Swan.
Feeling
⭐️⭐️⭐️
3 ⭐️’s
3 out of 5 stars
Listening
Music is undoubtedly one of the best parts of being alive. Here are some of the tracks that have contributed to the soundtrack of my life this week:
Watching
I’ve been really good at posting these RomCom/Traum reviews, expect them back soon but in the between time ready by latest post below:
Rom-Com/Traum Reviews (Ranking) #7
This isn’t a Friday Feels post so I really gotta stop making this intro so long. I hope you’ve been enjoying it, though, and I hope you’re well. I’m only including 2 reviews this time because I’m heading out, and I want to make sure I post on time rather than not at all, but maybe I can squeeze another in the next time I post reviews.
Misc.
finsta flow






Lyric of the week:
For a minute there
I lost myself, I lost myself
J