hello from a place i outgrew

weekly dispatch #1 ✶ the first weekly newsletter ever, grieving a life unlived, and fun facts about old man trump!

Nov 03, 2024

Heads up: November is “preview month” at Jonie Online. Starting in December, this full weekly newsletter & special bonus content will be for paid supporters only.

welcome to the inaugural weekly dispatch!

Starting this month, I’m launching paid subscriptions, which include access to this weekly dispatch in its entirety and other bonus behind-the-scenes content!

For all of November, I’ll be previewing these weekly dispatches so you can get a feel of what you’ll get from a paid subscription.

Some will be longer. Some will be shorter. All of them will have fun little bits and bobs that will hopefully make your inbox that much more delightful.

Thanks so much for reading. I’m glad you’re here <3

november 3rd, 2024 — fort collins, colorado

I’m writing this to you from the very familiar and slightly off-putting embrace of a place I no longer call home. When I say I’ve outgrown Fort Collins, I don’t mean I’ve somehow surpassed it. Rather, that it feels more and more like a place that holds little bits and pieces of me, but is no longer mine.

I came here a very scared, very unsure 22-year-old on the last day of 2019. I left at 26 a bit braver (if still unsure), finally learning how to give myself any amount of goddamn grace. I owe so much of how I live and how I’ve grown to the steady rhythm of this place, which is why it feels strange to feel so far from at-home here.

I outgrew it gradually—my restlessness unfurling and refurling over a period of months. A bout of claustrophobia, chronic daydreams about *actually* pursuing my dreams, and the twists and turns of life as I knew it led me to make the initial decision to change everything and move to Los Angeles.

This June, my partner and I packed up a U-Haul and made it official.

For the past four months, I’ve been settling into my new home, my new city, and my new way of life. I’ve been building a community one new friend at a time. I’ve been stretched and broken and patched up again. I’ve shed my old skin and come back new.

I’m not sure anyone can really tell how I’ve changed, but I feel different. Perhaps the subtle shifts in how I’m entering the world are imperceptible to most. Perhaps feeling the most “me” I’ve ever felt just looks like a much happier Jo.

I knew this move would change me, but I didn’t expect how much—or how fast. And I definitely didn’t expect to feel so many emotions coming back to Fort Collins. As I walked through the streets of the first neighborhood I lived in here, I couldn’t help but feel the uneasy weight of my past self beside me.

I felt her restless instinct that she had to leave Oklahoma. I felt her yearning for a life in California, muted by her unreadiness to move there alone. I understood why she leaned into the safety of Fort Collins, where my sister was becoming rooted, an unknown that felt closer to “known” than any other option. And as I traced the steps of the self who took the path of least resistance, I grieved the path I didn’t take.

Let it be known: I loved this place. Fort Collins was the right choice for me at that moment. This town gave me friends I’ll love for a lifetime, musical projects that fed and pushed me, and adventures that were thrilling and safe in equal measure. And yet, there’s still an unfamiliar unsettledness inside me, asking:

Why did it take this long for me to feel like myself? Why couldn’t I find her here?

Maybe Fort Collins isn’t to blame at all. Maybe the choices I made were mine alone, and maybe I would have made them the same anywhere—i.e., loving someone who couldn’t love me back (traumatizing), using self-hatred as a catalyst for change (doesn’t work), dedicating myself to the grand pursuit of corporate Career™️ (wildly unfulfilling), and other methods of punishing oneself for the sake of self-pity (predictable results).

Maybe the only way to get closer to figuring myself the fuck out was to put 1,000 miles between my past and present. And maybe that’s a cop-out! But all the same…it’s working as intended.

What I know for certain is that right now, LA feels like exactly where I need to be. I feel safe changing here; in fact, it’s what the city calls for. Its eternally shape-shifting, sprawling, transformative energy is etching itself into me, weaving into the DNA of my being as a new self emerges.

A self that creates boldly—for the sake of expression, connection, and play. One who meets someone new every time she steps outside. One who sees some of the world’s best artists at almost any venue on any given night.

One who dresses her technicolor inner being with a technicolor outer being. Red on red on red. Bright yellow and stripes. Dreams by the dozen. A carnival on the corner, and every kind of person in line.

I’ll work on loving the self who struggled to find herself here. Who fought to push down who she was and failed. I’ll grieve for all the ways she suffered at her own hand, but I’ll thank her endlessly for not stopping at “good enough”—because the same scared girl who needed this place grew into the woman I am now, finally brave enough to let it go.

— Jo

this week’s roundup of things to come, fun facts, personal recommendations, and more.

👋 upcoming

✶ LOS ANGELES — Jonie’s first official LA show is on November 20th at Healing Force Records!
I’ll be joined by my best friends, Frail Talk, and the endlessly inspiring Alexander Biggs. If you’re in the area, please join us and bring a friend! You can grab your tickets here.

✶ I’m starting the process of recording my new record THIS WEEK.
I can’t believe it. I feel nervous and excited and a bit unprepared. God help me. Stay tuned for a few snippets from our time and some words on the experience.

✶ Keep your eyes peeled for an upcoming post about birth control!
Coming soon to an inbox near you.

☝ fact of the week

Did you know that Donald Trump’s dad, Fred Trump, had a whole-ass song written about him and his nastiness by Oklahoma’s own Woody Guthrie (of This Land is Your Land fame)?

It’s called Old Man Trump, and it’s about the racist and discriminatory rental policies the Trumps held all the way back in 1954. Little Donny was just 8 years old at the time of its writing. Charli’s “Apple” lyrics hittin’ a little too hard rn.

Very fun!

I suppose that Old Man Trump knows just how much racial hate
He stirred up in that bloodpot of human hearts
When he drawed that color line
Here at his Beach Haven family project

🍴 make this for dinner

Butternut Squash Mac & Cheese from Cookie + Kate
I made this for a potluck, and it was everything I had ever dreamed of in a mac and cheese, and so much more.

💬 conversation starter

I love this question from Steph’s “gen z guide to touching grass”:

What job would you have had as a medieval villager?

Personally, I would’ve been a cook. One of the really sassy ones with a big ol’ vat and a bonnet, constantly saying “OUT! OUT!”

🎧 song of the week

I was lucky enough to see Olivia Kaplan at my favorite venue in LA, Healing Force of the Universe. This song floored me and triggered big tears. Olivia is truly a master of her craft.

She offered me the following words of insight for songwriting through grief (more or less):

The words will always take their time to come, and the words that eventually do will never feel right. And that's okay. Sit with the words anyway.

<3

📚 recommended reading

✶ I always enjoy Mackenzie Thomas’s monthly notes. October’s did not disappoint.

Been wondering when I’ll feel beautiful or sexy again. I have my moments but a moment is just a moment. I’m never living in the feeling of sexy, pretty, or beautiful. Right now I’m just a vessel for the shit I have to do. I’ve never seen a hot vessel.

✶ My sister sent me this piece from Escaping Flatland on how to think in writing. I needed it. Badly.

If writing down your ideas always makes them more precise and more complete, then no one who hasn't written about a topic has fully formed ideas about it.
— Paul Graham