The first full week of January is complete. How are we feeling? I for one feel good. I do feel reinvigorated. I have more energy and motivation. I’m a new woman! Finally, 2025 is it. This is my year. The new me. Today, I’m heading out for a sound bath followed by a moodboard workshop hosted by Bel Hawkins. It’s a full moon tomorrow. What more could I possibly want? It’s so over for all of you. Enemies beware.
A lot was consumed this week. I set my new reading goal on Goodreads, I went for 52 books again (the same as last year). I ended 2024 on 58 books, woo go me, so I not-so-secretly would love to get to 60 in 2025. But no pressure. I have two under my belt already having finally finished my rollovers, Medea by Rosie Hewlett and Why We Sleep by Matthew Walker. And no, I don’t even think we had a mention of the seemingly unavoidable impact of sleep deprivation on parents of young children (mostly women still bearing the brunt of this burden as main caregivers). And yes, I use the word burden because based on the context of how much the book advocates for 7-9 of sustained of interrupted sleep every night to avoid a miriard of health complaints and fatal accidents you would see it as none other than a burden too. Sigh, because I ultimately am not surprised by the omission of the universal experience. It could have been a great opportunity to explore the ‘it takes a village’ mantra of child rearing and where modern society has shifted away from this, what the impact on sleep loss looks like. Alas. I’m now reading Girls by Kirsty Capes. I thought I would love from the first page but I think I’m still finding my way into it. Will report back.
Other reads this week:
The tyranny of time - I found this one hard to get my head around given how ouor entire lives as we know them have been built around the construct of time.
The problem with work
The human cost of an AI driven future - from the perspective of content moderators (read with care, some mentions of graphic content).
Chat GPT couldn’t write a screenplay - kinda funny although also sickening to think the amount of energy an entire screenplay would have expended considering one email uses the equivalent energy that it takes 14 LED light bulbs to burn through in one hour.
Brain rot is poisoning our minds
Can friendship survive fertility struggles and new motherhood at once
I went to both the Francis Bacon: Human Presence at the National Portrait Gallery and Jeff Wall: Life in Pictures at the White Cube Gallery exhibitions this week. When you’re looking to express yourself creativity, immersing yourself in the work of others is one of the best things you can do. I enjoyed both for different reasons, particularly Bacon’s view that his portraits should look ‘as if a human has passed between them, leaving a trail of human presence and memory trace of past events’. I have so many more exhibitions listed downthat I want to see coming on display in 2025. Next on the list is At Home: Alice Neel in the Queer World. Any recommendations for amazing things you’ve seen I am all ears and if you want my list, say the word.
The past being Thursday’s newsletter. My pine cones were quite the hit. I had multiple people reach out striking up conversation over said pine cones. I decided to take another walk this week back to my pine cone oracle in Victoria Park to snap some photos. They were all too high up to give you a comparison of size to my hand but they were large, you have my word.
The time has come and Babygirl is out in cinemas hurrah. I’m headed out to watch it this eve, which will in be yesterday by the time you receive this because today is actually Saturday. How meta. I cannot wait. Reviews so far are not looking great but I am ignoring any and all negativity until I feast my own eyes on Nicole Kidman and Harris Dickinson.
With the arrival of cold weather, so too am I greeted with the delights of chapped lips. I haven’t been without my Laneige vanilla lip balm since the weather turned. I can’t be battling -2 frost on the ground still at 3pm without assistance.
This week, deadly and ferocious wildfires spread through large parts of Los Angeles, devestasting the homes and lives of thousands of people and wildlife. Poet Amanda Gorman and proud Angeleno took to Instagram this week to share her heartbreak and a poem, Smoldering Dawn, with the world. “Even in the surreal, We do not surrender. We emerge from the embers”.
