Weekly Wrap #6: Doing Whatever the Hell I Want
apocalyptic feminist literature, bittersweet cinema, and thoughts on female friendship
In case you missed it, check out my most recent post:
This week’s wrapped includes:
An feminist apocalyptic tale
Something to scream-sing to
The perfect movie to watch if you want to cry
📖 What I’m Reading
I’ve been struggling to power through a mediocre fantasy series over the last couple months. So, I’ve found myself frequently turning to obscure novels. If I were to describe my literary theme for the last six months, it would have to be something like, “Female Existentialism, Rage, and Desire.” So, naturally, I found myself listening to I, Who Have Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman, on audiobook over the course of the last week.
Originally published in 1995, this novel is mesmerizing and unsettling. The story follows a young girl who, along with 39 other women, is held captive in a mysterious underground bunker, where they live under strict surveillance without any explanation. When an unexpected escape opportunity arises, the protagonist finds herself in a desolate landscape, searching for answers and piecing together an existence that seems both futile and profound.
What’s striking about this book is how it handles themes of isolation, survival, and humanity’s need for meaning, even in the face of total ambiguity. The protagonist, unnamed and without much of a past, embodies this strange purity—she’s untouched by the structures and norms that typically shape identity, particularly the norms of gender and sex. Through her eyes, we confront the bare bones of what it means to be human without the usual societal trappings, almost like an experiment in existential minimalism.
If you're intrigued by dystopian worlds that focus more on the psychological than the apocalyptic, this might be your next read.
🎧 What I’m Listening To
As I’ve been walking around London for the last two weeks, I’ve had a few songs on constant repeat. Some people would get tired of listening to songs on repeat, but not me. I just find myself diving deeper into the lyrics and the storytelling.
Florence & the Machine released the album Dance Fever in 2022, which I listened to and enjoyed. But there is nothing quite like the feeling of actually hearing a song for the first time, and that is exactly what happened for my with the song “King.”
"King" pulsates with raw, unapologetic emotion, weaving together themes of female desire, rage, and the conflict of selfhood. Florence Welch's haunting vocals and the song's thunderous instrumentation create a space where the sacred and profane meet, as she confronts the tension between personal ambition and societal expectations.
At its core, "King" is an exploration of what it means to claim power as a woman. Welch wrestles with the pull of traditional roles—lover, mother, muse—while asserting her right to unbridled passion and individuality. The song's primal energy channels the rage of centuries of suppression, bursting forth as an anthem for anyone who has felt torn between who they are and who the world wants them to be.
With its electrifying crescendos and poetic ferocity, "King" stands as a declaration of sovereignty—a hymn to the feminine power that refuses to be tamed. Highly recommend learning these lyrics and scream-singing.
📺 What I’m Watching
When I first watched the film Past Lives in January of this year, I felt that it profoundly captured an emotional experience and landscape that I myself could not have named. Directed by Celine Song, Past Lives explores the connection between Nora and Hae Sung, two childhood friends from Seoul who reunite as adults after years apart. When I first watched it, my breath was taken away by the choices we make—and how they pull us closer and apart from potential life paths. Nora and Hae Sung’s bond is magnetic, and yet complicated by distance, time, and the life paths they’ve chosen.
Rewatching the film this week, I realized that what makes it so stunning is its subtlety—every glance and pause carries the weight of unspoken words. There is no rush to provide answers. Instead, it leaves room for the complicated, messy reality of life—one that doesn’t fit neatly into a linear narrative.
Past Lives is as much about what doesn’t happen as it is about what does. The film presents the concept of “In-Yun,” the Korean idea of fate and connection over multiple lifetimes. This concept of providence lingers, quietly, in the background of ever scene. Nora wondering about this other life she could have led, but affirming (or perhaps trying to convince her), “This is my life, and I’m living it with you. This is where I ended up. It’s where I’m supposed to be.” Hae Sung, wondering, “What if this is a past life as well, and we are already something else to each other in our next life? Who do you think we are then?” And Nora’s husband, Arthur, perhaps most devastatingly, asking, “You make my world so much bigger and I’m wondering if I do the same for you?”
You cannot watch this film without wondering about all those friends and lovers and strangers that you felt the cosmic pull of in-yun with. It captures the bittersweet ache of “what if” moments and how they can exist, albeit complicatedly, alongside the lives we have firmly chosen. Past Lives is both haunting and hopeful, a beautifully crafted reminder of the enduring power of love, memory, and the paths we didn’t take.
The most exquisite moment comes towards the very end—Hae Sung looks into Nora’s eyes and then glances at her husband sitting nearby. “I liked you for who you are; and who you are is a person who leaves. But for him, you’re the person who stays.” The first time I heard this line, it absolutely gutted me. This week, hearing it anew, I was both devastated and freed by it—as I have been wondering lately, when is staying the portal, and when is leaving the portal?
💭 What I’m Thinking About
Since the end of September, I have been thinking and meditating on my female friendships. In fact, I’ve been researching and writing about female friendship for over a year now. Towards the end of my twenties, I found myself systematically finding ways to center friendship in my life—scheduling regular check-ins with long distance friends, sharing voice notes throughout the day, book weekend trips to reconnect.
What I’m thinking about this week is just how life-affirming and sustaining these friendships truly are. They are my foundation. When the tectonic plates of my life started to shift this summer, is was my women that gathered around and offered themselves, their time, and their resources to me.
I’ve always known that I could lean on my one or two closest friends, but what I’ve realized lately is that I have a wide network of women who are willing to step forward to support me. I’ve had friends for ten years step up to support me, but I’ve also had LinkedIn connects turned friends provide such loving care and kindness. In the last couple months, I had to learn to trust this community, and then learn how to ask for help. When someone texted and said, “Is there anything I can do to help?” I would not brush this off, but instead would sit and consider how this person could uniquely support me in that moment.
I am learning that we must trust that when people offer their love and support, they mean it. Part of the bedrock of friendship is mutuality and reciprocity—my friends provided immense support to me recently, and it has only taught me how to be an even better friend to them when the times comes.
Last night, as I was sitting alone in a pub, texting with my dearest friend, I asked, “Do you think maybe we’ve been trying to get men to give us what our women have been giving us all along?” So often, I hear the women in my lives expressing disappointment in the men in their lives—wondering why these men cannot hold space, listen, and encourage their expansion. I’m left wondering…were our men ever supposed to play that role in our lives? Or, was that always supposed to be the work of women—loving each other, holding each other, and providing the fertile ground for evolution and new life.
😌 How I’m Resting
Honestly, my whole life feels like one big recalibration right now. Rest looks a little different lately than it has in the last few months. In fact, I have found that I have a well-spring of energy in the last two months. I am resting by doing whatever I damn please. I am wandering aimlessly around London. I am spending hours writing in cozy cafes. I am drinking far too much coffee. I am shopping and dating and dancing and lying in the sunshine. I am staying up and waking up as late as I please.
Right now, rest just looks like permission—permission to do whatever the hell I want.
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