josie-rambles

I can’t wait to finish up my current story and focus on my Legacy family, which will have gameplay as well as story-telling because I can’t stop writing, you guys…it’s in my blood…it’s in my NATURE, lol.  My Legacy is going to be a very dark, very twisted and very sexy family because that’s the mood I’m in right now. I was inspired by @tinwhistletoo‘s Isolde story to add a supernatural twist, since I’ve never explored that type of story. I might switch up and make it fluffy later on, who knows.  I’m excited to play a family for a few generations, I have NEVER done that in my history of playing the Sims series. I might even make a character page, those are so cool! 

Something they don’t tell you when you become chronically ill is all the guilt.

I feel guilty because people have to take care of me sometimes.

I feel guilty that they have to deal with listening to me complain about my latest hospital visit.

I feel guilty that I have to cancel plans.

I feel guilty that I cost so much money.

I feel guilty that I can’t always make it to class, or I leave early, or I can barely pay attention.

I feel guilty when my profs let it slide and I end up passing when I know I didn’t do nearly enough.

I feel guilty that I haven’t been able to get a job.

I feel guilty that, because I don’t have a job, my boyfriend and friends often pay for me when we go out.

Being chronically ill doesn’t just mean feeling like shit physically. It’s feeling like shit emotionally because it drags other people into your shit.


I dunno, maybe I’m being overly dramatic because I haven’t been able to get myself to eat today

how many posts do i draft and not post

-this is spurred by a few things, one being that i’m trying to migrate my old lj to dreamwidth finally but i can’t remember my fricking lj password

-i’ve been going to therapy for a couple of months now and it is helping me figure out how to communicate about feelings but i…continue to be kind of bad at identifying feelings?

-i wrote like three versions of a post about teaching and how one of the feelings that i have about the subject matter i’m covering is RAGE, because we are going to be talking about federal education policy in a few weeks and, well, yeah

-and i am having Feelings about writing again, the kind of thing where i…think about the fact that it is not really that hard to get fucking started on writing and I CAN ACTUALLY DO IT (witness 113k words on that thing, you know) but…i still don’t do it enough? it’s april so it’s national poetry month, so i have pieces of things scattered in my Google Keep?

-(they’re mostly about the desert. it’s spring, therefore i miss the desert. the mountains are covered in snow but they’re the wrong direction and there’s a living metal city between me and them, not stone and spirits)

-i need to stop fucking around on tumblr and come up with a plan for when i meet this lady to talk about my dissertation

it pains me to do this, but my likes have gotten out of control. i have over two thousand (which is a lot for me), and at the rate i’m going, they’re just going to stay there forever. so. instead of doing my usual tagging, which includes a bunch of my usual rambles, i’m just going to get them queued up with simple tags. and i know, i know, this is my blog, i can do what i want, but i like rambling in my tags, so that the op’s know how much i liked their posts. so, if i reblog your post and it’s just got basic tags, know that i really loved it, or else i wouldn’t have put it in my likes to begin with.

I love Cecil’s character arc bc like I’ve seen people say “omg we thought he was dark and mysterious and he’s actually just a huge dork” which is sort of true but i relistened to the September Monologues recently and the fact that Steve mentioned that Cecil never used to do anything besides hang out at the station is so interesting?? bc im remembering back to [Best Of?] and he was obviously SO dedicated to being the best reporter he could be but he also seemed really fucking detached when I think about it?

I think at some point, the whole immortal deal just got to him, yknow? It’s established in that episode that he’s been around since the fucking beginning of Night Vale (not that he remembers much of it, I guess). dude watched Josie grow up and I think he just kept himself separate from people in general to avoid being absolutely wrecked by their mortal existence and inevitable deaths. it’s not like he was miserable or anything, he was just super fucking invested in his work.

and then Carlos comes along and out comes the dorky emotional radio host we know and love. this theory also ties in with how devastated he was when Carlos got stranded in Desert Otherworld because god dammit, he finally let himself get attached again and now he’s lost it all so soon.

tldr; I want to give Cecil Gershwin Palmer a really big hug.

Why *Josie And The Pussycats* Is The Best Movie Ever

Once in a generation a film comes along that so encapsulates its era, speaks to its audiences and permeates the collective cultural unconscious that it defies categorization. It is more than a masterpiece or classic, cult or otherwise. It lives beyond the reach of its creators, in the realm not just of art but of beauty itself, that distant dimension Plato spoke of where ideal forms exist. In April of 2001, such a film was released. It was called “Josie And The Pussycats”.

I would conservatively estimate that I have seen JATP between fifteen and twenty times, or, at least once a year since it hit theaters. And to put the following in context, I have also seen your favorite movie, okay? “The Royal Tenenbaums,” “The Wizard of Oz,” “Annie Hall,” “Goodfellas,” “Rashomon*,” “500 Days of Summer,” “Pulp Fiction,” “Schindler’s List,” “Blue Velvet,” “La Dolce Vita”…anything that might reasonably be considered “required viewing,” I have viewed. So when I tell you that JATP is as well-made a film as there is, I don’t mean in comparison to schlocky TV specials. I mean it is flawless like “The Godfather” is flawless. At the very least, it deserves to be ranked alongside “Animal House,” and “Blazing Saddles” as one of the finest comedies ever produced for American audiences.

     Because this is not a widely-held opinion (for reasons I will get into later), I am forced to put my mostly-dormant BFA into practice and analyze JATP in terms of, well, every conceivable metric by which a film might be judged. I did not undertake this quest lightly; it took six whole hours and five long days for, well, read for yourself.


Part One: Craft

(Background: JATP was written and directed by Deborah Kaplan and Harry Elfont, the team behind “Can’t Hardly Wait” (Ms. Elfont later married Breckin Meyer, a point that is not pertinent to this discussion but is nonetheless adorable).)

     There are a number of theories (& books & blogs & podcasts & pricey workshops) that claim to know the secret to a great screenplay, and they all have one thing in common: the hero. Our hero is Josie. Following Josie, we see all the Campbellian elements of a hero’s journey, from the Call To Adventure (@ the Starbucks with Wyatt) to the Abyss (scary clown sequence) to the Atonement (with Mel and Val backstage.) There’s even a Crossing the Threshold/Transformation sequence wherein Josie and her comrades enter the beauty salon Riverdale chicks and exit into a bustling metropolis (“the Unknown”) glam-ified stars. It is at exactly this point that the band’s name changes, setting Josie up as our megalopsychos (thanks, Aristotle).

Despite the lack of sex, death and prophecy, Josie does go through a distinctly Oedipal journey: her desire to learn the truth behind her success leads her to despair (“they’re selling stuff through our music!”). Over the course of the film, Josie grows from yet another spunky girl with dreams of stardom to a true artist who values her integrity above fame. Now, enter the supporting characters…

     Val and Mel truly are “good, solid back-up,” but they also have fully realized personalities (Val is a humanitarian, Mel sings in the shower). Mel is the heart. Val is the head. Josie is the singer. Like the Fellowship or the Power Rangers or the leaders of the Democratic party, the Pussycats are strongest when their individual powers are combined. The implicit message here - that lady friends will save the world - is powerful without being obnoxious, obvious without being cloying. Almost every scene passes the Bechdel test, yet at no point does anyone exclaim, “You can’t do that! You’re just a girl!” followed by the “Yeah? Watch me.” of so many so-called “strong female character” narratives. Even seemingly minor characters (Alan M, Alexander, Alexandra) have integrated story arcs: Alan M learns to speak his mind, Alexandra gets a love interest and Alexander frees himself from the shackles of consumer capitalism. That is so difficult to accomplish, and the film runs less than two hours. Do you hear that, Tarantino? Multiple interwoven storylines in an hour and thirty-nine minutes, including multiple song breaks.

     A hero is only as interesting as her villain, and JATP gives us two for the ages: nefariously insecure Fiona and devious henchman Wyatt. We meet Fiona during a scene of pure exposition to explain the central mystery, but she quickly evolves into a bizarro caricature of a corporate queen. Look at Fiona’s hair, makeup and costume color palette: she’s a funhouse mirror version of Josie. Like Darth Vader, Fiona represents the dark side of the path Josie has chosen to walk. She has what Josie wants (power, fame, position), and wants what Josie has (love, friends, self-esteem). She can’t help but compare herself to Josie (“Ha! I’m three pounds lighter than you!”). The ultimate reveal of her higher plan is both shocking and, in hindsight, satisfying. Who among us hasn’t had a moment of wishing to make themselves so powerful as to defy insecurity, only to find that embracing one’s flaws is the only way to move forward? It’s not out of nowhere; it’s called having a backstory.

     Wyatt, on the other hand, is more like a traitorous Obi-Wan. He’s Gandalf, leading them through new and treacherous territory. He’s the mentor, the goddess, the wizard with the ability to make the impossible possible (his magical amulet: the sound mixer). And then it turns out he’s playing them! Isn’t that better? Isn’t that more fun than another coach figure who, like, dies of a mild cough the day before the big game?

     The difference between a good and great script might lie in the attention paid to truly tiny parts. Ideally, each interaction moves the plot forward or enriches the world of the story. Well, JATP is a great script. DuJour and the fangirls (and boy) in the opening sequence introduce the world of the film before showing us the titular characters, much like the Capulet and Montague servants in the first scene of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet.” The guy outside the Steve Madden store (“they’re new; they’re orange”) sets the emotional stage for the Pussycats to jump at the chance to sign with Wyatt, believing they are, to the masses, unwanted. The punk girl at the megastore gives voice to the anti-pop eye-rollers in the audience, and her cameo later in the underground brainwash complex is not to be overlooked. The government guy puts a limit on Fiona’s power. After the bowling alley, one might mistake the Pussycats for a beloved local band, but the bully girls show reveal them to be the town joke…which only makes the girls’ return as faux-Pussycats/stalkers all the more of a payoff.

     While a well-told story can hold an audience’s attention for its duration, we don’t return to films again and again, allowing them into our inner psyches and deeming them “iconic,” unless they also speak to the world around us or within us in some profound way. This is where most people miss the single most obvious thing JATP gets right: it’s a biting satire of consumer culture, American capitalism and even - in fact, especially - of itself. It’s about subliminal messages, but makes its message overt. It’s about corporate branding, and it has the most obvious product placement ever seen on the big screen. It’s an update of a beloved comic book franchise that includes the line “I was in the comic book.” The “profit kills creativity” maxim is brought to vivid - and hilarious - life when Carson Daly tries to kill Mel with a bat after admitting that he is an integral part of a plot to destroy the youth of America through music. If you consider yourself a hardened anti-establishment alt-indie-hippie-vegan free-thinking spirit of the wind, this should be required viewing. It’s subversive. It attacks. It’s edgy, dammit. This is punk rock filmmaking. Andy Warhol would have approved of this movie. It’s an indictment of the monoculture. Just imagine the think pieces this film would spawn if it were released today!

     When Fiona asks why so many musicians die in crashes and overdoses and suicides, she’s setting up the idea that actually they’ve been murdered by their corporate overlords. Ha, ha. But…isn’t she kind of right? Didn’t the pressures of fame kill Kurt Cobain, didn’t the excesses of wealth kill Elvis? We burn up our celebrities not only with our scorn but with our worship, fandom as medicinal poison. And this is before tumblr. And it’s all done so subtly! Wyatt’s code-word for “crach the duJour plane” is “take the Chevy to the levy,” a nonsense line from American Pie…which is a song about musicians dying in a plane crash.

     The exhaustion of fame on hyperdrive. Media saturation as lifestyle. An X-Files-worthy government conspiracy. This movie was a thousand years ahead of its time. So, with all that in mind, can we please agree that, at least on paper, Josie And The Pussycats is a flawless masterpiece? Great.


Part Two: Execution.

     Let’s take a look at what there is to take a look at: cinematography. JATP’s cinematography, from a technical angle, is rather unfussy. There are no walk-and-talks, no winding Scorseseësque dollies through a space or pans across a striking vista. It’s your basic master/two-shot/over-the-shoulder filmmaking. There are fun graphics in the montages, notably the “climbing up the charts” gag, an accurate recreation of the era’s music video aesthetic when necessary, and a few amusing fisheye shots, like seeing the faux-pussycats through the apartment door peephole. The split screens were likely made in the editing room, not in-camera, but still, points for exciting visuals. One must remember that, at the end of the day, form is supposed to support content, not the other way around (some people disagree with me on this. Those people are wrong). The story is a deep dive into the psyche of mainstream America, so the directors chose a mainstream technique.

     Where the visual storytelling becomes crazy subtle is in the set and costume design. Hipsters can harp all they want about how, like, every single frame of Scott Pilgrim has, whoa, a number in it because, like, Edgar Wright is, whoa, a genius, but have you ever bothered to look at the background actors in “Josie And The Pussycats?” An ongoing joke in the film is that the subliminal messages in pop music change the trendy color (“orange is the new pink!”) for the sole purpose of encouraging wasteful shopping. Sure enough, the extras in every mall scene can be seen wearing variations of the same hue. In the bird’s-eye shot of the Riverdale suburb, every single house is the same, down to the make, model and color of the SUV in the driveway. Each Pussycat lives in a penthouse hilariously plastered in the logo of the brand “sponsoring” her (pre-Instagram, can you imagine?). At the Pussycat house, too, there’s an element of self-branding: the walls are speckled with spray-painted leopard spots and almost every home accessory has a cat motif. (There are also a few live kittens roaming around. One assumes they were adopted when the band moved away.) When the members of duJour return in full-body casts, their plaster chests have been sharpie’d with the insignia from the clothes they were wearing in the airplane (which is also, itself, covered in logos). This level of attention to detail makes the film an easter-egg-hunting joy to re-watch and complicates one of the themes: does what you like inside dictate what you put on your outside, or the other way around?

     The Pussycats would be nothing without their music, and the soundtrack is perhaps what elevates the film above other teen fare of the time. (It was certified Gold, by the way.) Every single track is a banger. “3 Small Words” is an angsty chick anthem; “Pretend To Be Nice” sounds like everything else on the turn-of-the-millennium radio, so it’s perfect as the Pussycats’ fictional hit; I dare you not to dance to “Spin Around”; “You Don’t See Me” is serviceable as a love song for Alan M but works even better as an ode to insecurity; “You’re A Star” is the opposite of the previous track, aka character development; “I Wish You Well” dips into riot grrrl territory and scratches my I Miss The Donnas Every Day itch, “Real Wild Child” is a cute cover, as is “Money”; “Shape Shifter” is pretty much the theme of the movie in a single song; “Come On” is, admittedly, the weakest track on the album but the guitar hook is kind of flawless. Onto the DuJour tracks: “DuJour Around The World” manages to use “DuJour” in every line. “Backdoor Lover” is a boyband song about butt sex. I rest my case. Finally, the Josie And The Pussycats theme. A non-ironic update of the original 70s cartoon theme. Why don’t other franchise reboots understand how simple it can be?

     And now we come to the most tired and pathetic complaint that can be lobbied against this or any movie of a similar nature: those girls aren’t really singing or playing their instruments.

     The first thing is fuck you. The second this is yes they are, in the scene, they are playing their instruments and singing, it’s just that the sounds they made weren’t recorded. Very, very few films feature live music. Do you have any idea how shitty the musical acoustics are on a soundstage? Boom mics were designed for dialogue, not electric guitars. So, no, at no point do you hear the vocal or musical stylings of Rachel Leigh Cook…but why should you have to in order to enjoy the songs? Not only would “real” music be antithetical to the giant meta-wink that is the entire film, but also, everything in a movie is a special effect. In a scene where “Josie” would have done her hair and makeup herself that morning, Rachel Leigh Cook didn’t; a professional did. Rachel Leigh Cook didn’t do stunts; a professional did. And no one expected her, though she played Josie, to write songs. Professionals did. Because creating an authentic character is a collaboration between professionals. They hired professional actresses to act the Pussycats and a professional singer to sing for them. And not just any professional singer…Kay Hanley from Letters to Cleo. You get to see a movie starring three starlets and hear Kay Hanley. This is the best of all possible combinations!

     The entire cast is pitch-fucking-perfect. Donald Faison, Seth Green, Alan Cumming, Parker Posey, Missi Pyle…comedy superstars, all of them. Cumming and Posey, especially, are let off their respective chains and are as deliciously insane as I have ever seen them. Tara Reid is so sincere as the all-loving vegetarian airhead Mel. Watch her explain all the things she could do if she could be in multiple places at once. Watch her fall on her ass in the living room. Rachel Leigh Cook, the star-next-door of 1999 thanks to “She’’s All That,” is recognizable enough to be a believable rock star and unknown enough to be a believable loser. She’s spunky and cute and the tiniest bit annoying, so you buy it when she turns into a bitch.

     But by far the MVP (Most Val-uable Pussycat) is Val, aka Rosario Dawson, aka pre-Rent Rosario Dawson, aka pre-skinny Rosario Dawson. She’s deadpan and cool and dorky and totally un-self-conscious in a way you never see in teen movies. Mel and Josie come off like girls. Val is a woman. She’s the moral center of the story and its most reasonable character. She doesn’t get many whacky showcase moments or punchlines. In fact, her main joke is that Wyatt keeps forgetting about her because yeah, isn’t Val a little bit boring? But also…yeah! She’s a rock star and she’s a little bit boring! She’s happy with herself and her decisions. She’s supportive and smart and does volunteer work. She’s just a cool, calm and collected cat. She’s Dave Grohl or Bob Gaudio or everyone in Bon Jovi or no one in Fleetwood Mac.

Then there’s the X-factor, the je news said quoits, the kitty-ness of it all. The monkey. Captain and Tennnille and The Chief. The Charlie’s Angels girls playing the Pussycats in the very movie you’re watching. The quite catchy melody of “Taking My Truck For Granted”. These are things that make the film an absolute joy to watch. They show how much time, care, effort, energy, talent and, yes, love went into making “Josie And The Pussycats.” When you love something that much and work that hard on it, I think the least you can expect is that audiences and critics give it a fair shot before casting an opinion. Unfortunately…


Part Three: Reception

JATP made fifteen million against a twenty-two million budget. It’s not that audiences didn’t like it; they didn’t even see it. Roger Ebert, the most influential critic of his time, basically panned it. And there’s only one reason, I think, why this film has not received the recognition it deserves: the patriarchy.

Calm tf down. I’m not accusing Ebert or any critic or any man or any penis of outright misogyny. What I am arguing is that there are many aspects of the movie that prevented it from being seen by male audiences who would otherwise be free to enjoy it, and that it hasn’t taken its place among the greats because of a systematic disregard for the things the film is fundamentally about.

     Take the title, for instance. It has the word PUSSY in it. How many guys, of a Saturday, would feel comfortable rolling up to the box office and asking for tickets to a movie with Pussy in the title and a glitter-covered girl gang on the poster? Most people of ticket-buying age have already been indoctrinated (by the very brain-washing society the movie mocks) that this is a chick flick. Dissuading men from enjoying “feminine” things isn’t reverse-sexism…it’s the patriarchy!, So while of course I am all for female-driven movies making bank on the strength of female purchasing power, the fact remains that it is twice as hard to turn a profit when half the population is getting signals from all sides telling them not to go.

     Beyond the title, the pink-and-purple poster and the lack of “bankable” leads (ie macho action stars or old-man-approved Award Winners), this movie was, frankly, scary to conservative America. Remember, the patriarchy is just another branch of authoritarianism and oppression. The Pussycats are the opposite of oppressed. They don’t exist within the sanctified, codified world of high school (see: the massive success of “Mean Girls” and “Clueless,” or “Legally Blonde” for post-grad institutionalization); they aren’t at a pre-prescribed stage in life as designated by a major milestone (“Bridesmaids”); they aren’t gainfully employed but looking for mates (“13 Going On 30,” “27 Dresses,” “How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days”). Instead, like Romy and Michele (again under appreciated, again starring Alan Cumming…are you sensing a theme?) they are semi-employed and okay with it, chasing their dreams instead of men, existing more in relationship to each other than to any structure from the outside world. They have their own Pussycat society, a society with its own rules and norms and boundaries. This is anathema to the patriarchy. The pussycat house may very well have been a brother for all that it completely rejects the heteronormative standard.

     Groups of liberated females have long struck fear into the heart of the establishment, and so the establishment tries to shut them down. Funny women aren’t supposed to tell you not to buy stuff. They are supposed to shut up and have babies. Well, Josie and Mel and Val are college-aged girls living on their own in a house full of cats, refusing to buy new clothes or listen to bland music, and the movie paints them as powerful, not pitiful. Talk about subverting the dominant paradigm. This movie was the revolution, people, and we fucking missed it!

     The movie was called “ridiculous” because men have always called women ridiculous for wanting the things they can’t have. What it comes down to is if this were a drama about a bunch of boys who liked to sing and play guitar and hated “the man,” and wanted a record contract anyway, Oliver Stone and Cameron Crowe would have been fighting over the chance to direct it and Leonardo DiCaprio would have been growing his hair out to take on the lead. But instead, the movie is - gasp! - a comedy about - omg! - friendship instead of drugs, centered on three - wtf! - cute girls instead of two guys and their shared sex object. Because at the end of the day, the establishment can make peace with men who fight the power with guns or whatever, probably something that the establishment sold them anyways. Not so for ladies.

Now, how am I so sure that the patriarchy is completely to blame? How do I know it wasn’t simply that this happens sometimes with movies, and maybe there were a bunch of other factors I don’t know about? Well, consider the closest thing we have to a “control” movie against which we can test my theory: “Zoolander.”

     Heard of it? It came out the same year as JATP and boasted a roster of comedy’s best. It also has…pretty much the exact same plot as JATP. It’s about an industry that brainwashes its stars to promote and preserve a capitalist way of life. They were made for around the same amount of money, even. Yet “Zoolander” grossed its budget back twice over, is quoted by film fans ad infinitum and, oh yeah, the star-studded sequel just came out. So what did Derek Z have that Josie M didn’t?

     Well, “Zoolander" was about a guy and made by guys. Ben Stiller stared and directed; Scott Rudin produced. Other guys could go to a Ben Stiller/Scott Rudin movie. “Zoolander” was about an adult, and society tells us that their stories are worth telling. Josie and her friends aren’t teenagers, yet JATP consistently pops up on “teen movie” lists, even thought it’s really clever. “Zoolander,” which has demonstrably juvenile humor, is never considered a teen movie, and adults went to it in droves. Again, the deciding factors are sexism and ageism which, yes, is part of patriarchy (establishment = conservatism). The original “Zoolander” trailer features, instead of Josie’s peppy music, a guy getting kicked in the face. And celebrity cameos. And an explosion. So Middle America was like YES PUT IT IN ME IT LOOKS LIKE WHAT I HAVE BEEN TOLD IS FOR ME.

     The other reason I know I’m right is…there is no other possible explanation. “Josie And The Pussycats” is so goddamn good that for it to have done as poorly as it did both commercially and critically, something must have been deeply wrong with the society into which it premiered. Like the work of Jane Austen, JATP was declared “chick stuff” and brushed under the rug, only to be discovered later by a more deserving audience. Well, the time has come. Rent it. Buy it. Watch it. Make like Alexander and hit the streets to spread the gospel of the pussycats.

*I have not seen Rashomon.

‪You know when you’ve hit that point with a certain piece of clothing, or a favorite mug, or your most comfortable shoes where start being extra careful with them because you’re worried about breaking it because it’s so special and irreplaceable, the time to get it again has passed and yet part of what makes it magical is that you’ve always just used it unabashedly, carefree and easily but you’re so worried about loosing it that you try to slow down your love for it but you can’t and you watch as you hurtle towards the inevitable and hope that years from now you’ll still remember these things that made you so happy because you don’t want that gone from your life‬

Signs based on people ive been friends with

Aries:
Full of energy and down to do anything and everything as long as its an adventure. Supportive yet easily overwhelmed emotionally. Beautiful melodic voice, can match any pitch. Seems to be a natural at most forms of art. Being friends with an aries will never leave you dissapointed one way or another.

Taurus:
Unquestionable wisdom and useless knowlege. Always one step ahead of you. Will let you live your fantasies but will always bring you back down to earth. Stubborn but never without good reason. Being friends with a taurus never ends, even if you think it has.

Gemini:
Able to get along with anyone and everyone, even those they despise. Typically extroverted and laughs too often. Will be your shoulder to cry on without consequence. Never expects things from people for better or for worse. Being friends with a gemini is hard to really accomplish since they act like everyone is their friend when in reality it is only a select few.

Cancer:
Trusting to a fault, loyal to the day they die. Combats their inward ‘emptyness’ with emotional intensity (that is, when they do feel emotions). Will always laugh at your jokes and make you feel involved. Being friends with a cancer may be emptionally overwhelming.

Leo:
Fun, sweet, yet temporary. Bursting with love and compassion for everyone who they care for and cold as stone for whom they dont. Will always take your side without asking questions. Not as confident as they deserve to be. Being friends with a leo is fun and light-hearted.

Virgo:
Holds love for all things under the sun. Kind and generous with their time and energy. Sometimes refuses to understand new ideas. Feels like they dont hold power in the world but attempt to make a positive change regardless. Being friends with a virgo may be frustrating at times but is always worth it in the long run.

Libra:
Condensending yet ironically insecure. Accumulates lots of knowlege to make up for this. Charming and excited to try new things. Nasty habit of telling exaggerations or mistruths when it comes to personal experiences. Being friends with a libra is alot of fun yet alot of work.

Scorpio:
Piercing eyes and holds social power. Preffers a few close friends over an abundance of acquaintences. Unafraid to make fashion statements & open about their own political agenda. Sweet as can be when youre in their circle but when youre out, oh honey youre just out. Being friends with a scorpio can be rewarding yet risky.

Sagittarius:
Obessive but somehow in a lighthearted fun way. Will remember details about you that you thought went unnoticed. Cunning and naive. Doesnt listen to advise too well. Holds unorthodox morals yet still respectable. Being friends with a sagittarius will lead you to learn more about yourself than your friend.

Capricorn:
Percise and analytical, inherently untrusting. Questions the motives of those around them without leaving a stone unturned. Relies on evidence for every endeavor in life. Will remember everything you say and quote you on it later. Willing to fight for those they love. Great with kids. Being friends with a capricorn can leave you wondering their true feelings about you.

Aquarius:
Openminded and unforgiving. Best people to go to for advice and a shoulder to cry on. Indecisive/has little opinion on mundane things. Will be straight up with you about how they feel, when they do have emotions (which isnt too often). Typically rebellious by natue. Being friends with an aquarius is always a roll of the die, you never know what to expect.

Pieces:
Loves nature and hates society. Has a passion for educating others and will always put in their two-cents. Never forgets your face, even if they do your name. Will share and create good memories with you regardless on how little or well you know them. Being friends with a pieces is a walk in the park, whether it be sunny or storming. [Side note to people who know me: your sign isnt specific to you, most of these hold elements of 3ish people]

okay, this is gonna be a bit of a ramble, but it’s gotta be said. so yesterday i was the recipient of some comment squad love, and let me tell you, it made me so happy. i cannot stress enough what a thoughtful enterprise that all is, and we have @memorizingthedigitsofpi to thank for it. there’s a reason her tag is saint pi on my blog. someone even took the time to scroll through to my first ever gifset? i mean? i forgot i had even made that. but it was nice and nostalgic, and kinda cringe worthy sometimes, haha, because i have improved so much since i started. i looked back on some of these posts that are getting reblogged, with just lovely lovely things in the tags, thank you, and while i am proud of all of my works, i can’t help but think of how much better they would be if i redid them now. but that’s as may be. just thank you to everyone who has gone on AO3 and left me kudos and comments, and thank you to everyone who has reblogged my gifsets and fic. it was such a lovely thing to wake up to and i love you all very, very much.