media consumption: articles, video essays, podcasts to make you smarter (vol. 19)
hello.
lately, i’ve been missing pregnancy in a way that’s hard to talk about. not just the idea of it, but the feeling of it. the weight, the stillness, the quiet miracle of being the only one who knew her before the world did. i was young when i had my daughter. too young, maybe. but even then, in all the chaos and fear and uncertainty, there was this strange peace to it. like my body finally had a purpose. it felt like i was a secret keeper. i remember watching juno almost every night not because it made me feel good exactly, but because it made me feel seen. like there was room in the world for girls like me. a little sharp, a little strange, a little too soft to admit it.
what i miss now is not just the baby, or the newborn days, or even the version of myself who was figuring it out as she went. i miss the becoming. i miss the sacred in-between and the sense that time had slowed down just for us. i think about what it would be like to do it again, now, as the woman i’ve become. not because i want to fix the past, but because i want to live it differently. i want to notice it this time and hold the magic a little longer. i want to carry a child not just with love, but with calm. with softness and a life that finally feels stable enough to wrap around someone else. i would do it again and again with my daughter beside me. i would relive every moment just to feel that closeness again, not just to her, but to myself.
i don’t know what to do with that longing. it feels tender and wild and a little bit sad, like a door i can see just slightly open, but i’m afraid to touch it. i think part of me wonders if it’s too late, or if wanting more somehow betrays how much i already have. but the truth is, this isn’t about something missing. it’s about something remembered. and maybe something still waiting. i’m not sure what comes next, or if anything will. but i know this feeling matters and maybe naming it and writing it down is a kind of beginning too.
maybe there’s no clear resolution to any of this. maybe it’s enough just to say it out loud and name the feeling, honor it, and then move forward carrying it quietly. i’m still learning how to do that. in the meantime, here’s what i’ve been loving this week. things that made me feel a little more grounded, a little more held. maybe they’ll do the same for you.
weekly report
reading
schoolgirl by osamu dazai
this one reads like a long, breathless thought. it’s just one day in the life of a teenage girl, but the way dazai writes it, everything feels heightened and cinematic and a little unbearable. it’s lonely. it’s dramatic. it’s full of contradictions. she’s both self-obsessed and deeply perceptive. it captures that strange, liminal space where you’re not a child anymore but you’re not an adult yet either. if you’ve ever felt like no one understands you but also like you might be impossible to understand, this is that, distilled.
autobiography of red by anne carson
this book is a spell. it’s technically a novel in verse, but it doesn’t feel poetic in the usual way, it feels raw and weird and mythic. it’s a retelling of the myth of geryon and herakles, but in carson’s hands it becomes a story about queer longing, art, memory, and what it means to survive being soft in a brutal world. geryon is a red-winged boy. he’s also just a kid who loves photography and falls in love for the first time and doesn’t know how to deal with it. it’s so tender and so sharp it kind of hurts.
hellions by julia elliott
these stories are wild. southern gothic meets sci-fi meets fairy tale. it’s swampy, strange, full of rot and magic and girls who bite back. there’s one about a nun in a plague-ridden convent having weird erotic visions of christ. another about a girl whose family is obsessed with the exorcist. every sentence is lush and feral. it’s not realism. it’s not surrealism. it’s something in between. like if angela carter grew up in south carolina and listened to doom metal.
heaven by mieko kawakami
this one is quiet and devastating. it follows two middle school kids, both being bullied, who form a secret friendship. but it’s not sweet, not in the way you think. it’s raw. philosophical. it asks really hard questions about suffering, cruelty, what it means to choose kindness in a world that doesn’t reward it. the prose is clean and unflinching. it’s less about plot and more about how it makes you feel, like your heart’s being slowly crushed and you can’t quite look away.
perfection by vincenzo latronico
this one’s about a couple who moves to berlin and tries to build the most aesthetically perfect life possible. like minimalist furniture, curated playlists, vintage espresso machines, the whole thing. but it’s also about how hollow that kind of life can feel underneath. it’s about alienation, performance, and how easy it is to confuse taste with meaning. if you’ve ever felt like your life was starting to look good on the outside but feel totally fake on the inside, this book gets it. it’s short, sharp, and low-key haunting.
eating
-savory oatmeal with salted butter.
the kind of breakfast you make when you need something simple but grounding. just warm, creamy oats with a little salt and fat, maybe a soft-boiled egg or a sprinkle of scallions if you’re feeling extra. it’s slow and quiet and oddly soothing, like something you’d eat in a cabin on a gray morning.
-blueberry pie with vanilla bean ice cream.
best if it’s slightly falling apart. the berries a little messy, the crust imperfect, the ice cream starting to melt into everything. it’s indulgent, but not flashy. the kind of dessert you eat at the kitchen table after dinner, barefoot, the windows open, the day finally softening.
-homemade pizza night.
maybe you go classic burrata, tomato, basil. maybe you lean green pesto with pine nuts, sundried tomatoes, and mozzarella. either way, the dough is stretched by hand, the cheese uneven, and there’s flour on your sleeves. it’s not about the result. it’s about the act. feeding yourself something made with intention, not urgency.
-eggs on toast.
soft scrambled, sunny side up, jammy and generous. maybe with a little hot sauce, maybe just salt and butter. it’s the meal you make when you’ve had a long day or no day at all. something humble that reminds you you’re allowed to take care of yourself, even when it’s simple. especially when it’s simple.
playing
-juno
-i started two new k dramas:
resident playbook
a spin-off of hospital playlist, this one follows a group of first-year ob-gyn residents trying to survive hospital life. it’s about exhaustion, quiet devotion, late-night ramen, and the kind of friendships that only happen when you’re too tired to pretend. very soft, very warm, but still grounded in the reality of medicine and burnout.
tastefully yours
a romantic drama about a rich boy restaurant owner and a small-town chef with no signage, just vibes. their worlds collide over food, pride, and slow burning chemistry. it’s cozy, a little funny, and full of delicious tension. think cooking as flirtation, rivalry as foreplay.
obsessing
-some new fragrances…
happy dust – narcotica
opens like sunshine on skin: mango, coconut water, and bourbon vanilla in a warm, fuzzy haze. playful but grounded with matcha, brown sugar, and a green edge. sweet, strange, addictive.
sandalwood temple – sana jardin
like a quiet morning in a wood paneled library. soft incense, neroli, warm woods. not heavy or churchy, just clean, sacred, and still.
white forest – björk and berries
a scandinavian forest in a bottle. lemon, pine, cedar, and vetiver. crisp, green, and invigorating like cold air on early skin.
vanilla veil – björk and berries
delicate and dreamy. pistachio, almond blossom, mimosa, and amber. like snow on warm skin. soft, creamy, and wrapped in memory.
althaïr – parfums de marly
dessert in a leather jacket. spiced vanilla, praline, candied almond, and woody base. cozy but bold. sweet with presence.
vietnamese coffee – d’annam
strong coffee, condensed milk, and dark chocolate softened by tonka and amber. rich, comforting, like a warm drink in a dim cafe.
útilykt – fischersund x 66°north
this smells like weather. moss, ozone, wind, and a trace of smoke. sharp and earthy, like iceland in winter. cold, clean, quietly haunting.
(if you’re curious about sampling you can use my link at scent split for a discount on all samples and full size bottles)
recommending
-blobs sour candy: quite literally the best healthyish sour candy i’ve ever tried
-hatch: the alarm clock i can’t live without
-farm fresh fruits: for nourishment
some gentle kind things to consider integrating into your routine…
-have a semi-reset hour of the week. just 1-2 hours to clear your inbox, do laundry, change your sheets, take a walk. something that reminds you not to abandon yourself.
-rewatch a comfort film on purpose. not in the background, actually watch it. notice the colors, the pacing, the stillness. let it hold you.
-drink your beverage in a real cup. tea, coffee, water, wine, whatever it is, pour it into something that feels good in your hands. something that reminds you you’re a person.
-curate your inputs. mute the account that makes you spiral. read an essay that moves something in you. listen to something that doesn’t drain you.
-step outside when the light is soft. early morning or golden hour. no headphones. just be there. let the quiet and the air remind you you’re here.
-finish something small. make soup or a homemade pizza. organize a drawer. handwrite a letter. not for productivity, but for peace. for proof that your hands can make order out of something.
-romanticize maintenance. you don’t need a five step routine. just wash your face slowly. lotion your hands before bed. fold your clothes like you live here.
treating
-more dinners with friends
-tickets to the museum
-a candle that smells like rain and cedar
-a handmade jam from the farmers market
-an apron that makes me feel like a kitchen witch
this next section is for paid subscribers where i share a sizable list of interesting articles, video essays, and podcast recommendations that i’ve curated throughout the week(s). today’s media consumption roundup includes why young people everywhere are so unhappy, whether or not the humanities will survive ai, how living a comfortable life is killing us, the power of communal dreaming, the philosophy of language, performance reading, why so many young people are looking for god, and so much more…
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