I’m about to turn forty and I just read All Fours by Miranda July: hormonal cliffs and storytelling in the age of instagram
I was both moved and disturbed by All Fours. Probably because I’m turning 40 in a few months and I’m terrified of what perimenopause is going to do to my body and brain. Some passages felt like a gut punch. Others made me cringe and snap the book shut, muttering angrily. It was like being seen and attacked simultaneously. The whole thing made me insecure and righteous and confused and repulsed and then insecure again. Unease on loop.
I tripped and fell into ARMY: how to become a BTS fan in 5 easy steps
Let me be clear that I entered this rabbit hole with a skeptical mindset. I wanted my hypothesis about manufactured pop music to be proven right. I did not get what I wanted. That’s because regardless of how the machine of K-pop makes me feel, there’s just something magical about BTS. They’re a moonshot.
Please like what I like: finding validation in the reactionverse
I first stumbled upon the reactionverse when I became a TikTok lurker. Specifically I became hooked on Taylor Swift reactions. As a Fearless era Swiftie, there is something deeply satisfying about watching a TS ‘hater’ slowly change their mind about her talent one song at a time. Reaction videos have existed for as long as YouTube has (about 20 years), but the number of them has exploded in the past 3 years. There’s probably a multitude of reasons for this, but the one that stands out for me is supply and demand: it’s not just me who’s getting a kick out of watching people like what they like.
From doomscroll to bloomscroll — why I stopped feeding the outrage funnel
The question I ask myself these days when I’m deep in the scroll is, “are you doomscrolling or bloomscrolling?”
Does my time spent online leave me feeling happier, more connected, more creative, hopeful about the future?
OR does it make me feel afraid, concerned, despairing, as if the future is hopeless?
Every day a new page: on motherhood and Schitt’s Creek
I’m a bit clingy. That’s all it is. I scrabble and clutch at good feelings as they depart. That’s why I filled booklets with Backstreet Boys posters as a teen and saw The Fellowship of the Ring twelve times at the cinema. I guess my mum didn’t see love in these behaviours but something more embarrassing. Perhaps it wasn’t my obsessive personality she was worried about so much as my questionable taste. Regardless, the truth is that to me, there is nothing more thrilling than being a fan. That’s why I kept a plastic Burger King figurine of Legolas on my bedside table for years. See also: Orlando Bloom.