I am a firm believer in New Year’s resolutions . As one year ends and another begins — and the days are at their darkest — I find it helpful to throw myself into a new hobby or practice a new skill. At its best, New Year’s resolutions are a fundamentally hopeful practice that helps us recognize our ability to change and grow and start anew, even in times of struggle. I especially love reading resolutions.

One of my favorite things to do during the coziest of seasons is to curl up with a good book in my armchair by the window, sip on a mug of hot apple cider, and watch the snow falling through the soft lamplight.

But what to read?!

If you like learning about truths, I encourage you to read further.

If you like Thanksgiving, I encourage you to pause here and consider if you want to choose this particular adventure.

Isn't that nice, being given a choice?

There I was, watching the downpour through my window, stuck in quarantine in the height of the pandemic. I was daydreaming of a summer romance in Cousins Beach, entertaining the idea of camaraderie and burgers at Luke’s Diner, wishing to be as cool as characters in K-Dramas.

I have always found it very difficult to write about love, regardless if it is for people, for places, or for things. It’s hard to tack down an emotional experience so vast with just words. Love is huge, terrifying, unfathomable, calamitous, and persistent. It can’t be ignored. It refuses to be ignored.

Spooky runs through my veins (literally – ask any haunted house designer or movie-magic maven, blood is super spooky). For many, a list of their favorite things would include raindrops on roses or maybe whiskers on kittens. But for me? It’s darkened halls and a shadow moving where it shouldn't…

At age twenty-three, I’m unsure if I’ll continue to be a lifelong superhero fan.

As the weather gets colder, the days get shorter and the leaves begin to change colors, it is once again time for everybody’s favorite fall holiday — I am, of course, talking about OCD Awareness Week.

Over the course of her nearly 12 year career, the mononymous musician Mitski has said many things about love. In “Square,” a track from her 2013 album Retired from Sad, New Career in Business, she cuts to the quick of the matter with scalpel-sharp precision: “God's very simple and love doesn't burn.”

Welcome, reader. Now that I have you here, I earnestly hope that you-who-clicked at least enjoyed Barbie (2023), because there is tremendous bias to behold throughout the forthcoming wordcount. I absolutely loved Greta Gerwig’s interpretation of Barbieland. I was absolutely transfixed during Barbie's runtime; I was transformed by the time I left the theatre.

Horror fans of the world, our time is approaching. Fall is here, and soon spooky season will be in full swing. I’m always on the hunt for new horror media in the fall, and if you’re like me in this regard, you’ll want to check out Caitlin Starling’s new book from St. Martin’s Press, Last to Leave the Room.

I’ve recently read three otherwise amazing novels that have all disturbed me for the same unusual reason: they used sexual assault as a surprise-subplot or weird character journey late in the story.