A Little Bit Evil

I've noticed something while writing these monthly posts: my goals have quietly changed shape. They’ve moved away from anything that feels like strict productivity or measurement, and more toward simply paying attention to what I actually enjoy doing. It feels less like “doing more” and more like “living more gently inside the things I already love,” which honestly seems like a much better direction.

June was a genuinely lovely month. I finished three books, which feels like a comfortable and satisfying reading pace rather than anything pressured or competitive. I didn’t really manage the “blog a little more” goal in any structured way, but I did show up here and on Instagram a few times, and that felt enough. I’m trying to be more mindful about not letting posting online become another obligation sitting on top of everything else.

There’s also been a small but meaningful return to games and routines that feel grounding. Palia, in particular, has quietly become part of my evenings again, and I’d forgotten how calming it is to slip back into that world after a long day. It’s been a month of soft habits like that: tennis most weeks, starting swimming (still slightly surreal to admit), and enjoying the rhythm of grass court season in the background.

I said I wanted a slower, more restful summer, and June really felt like the beginning of that settling-in.

There’s also been a quiet return to writing in a more creative, less structured way. I’ve got a few fanfiction pieces that have been sitting half-finished for a while, and I’d like to gently focus on actually finishing a couple of them this month instead of leaving them in perpetual draft state. Not as a goal with pressure attached, but more as an invitation to reconnect with writing in a way that feels instinctive again.

So July feels simple.

Read a few books. Watch Wimbledon and keep playing tennis. Keep spending evenings in Palia. Share a little more online, if it feels right in the moment. And make space for finishing and possibly posting a couple of writing pieces I’ve been sitting with for too long.

Nothing needs to be pushed. Nothing needs to be optimised.

Just a continuation of summer as it’s been unfolding: books, sunshine, movement, quiet evenings, and a bit of writing for the sake of it.

And that feels like enough.

Currently: Fics, Finals & Forehands

📚 Reading:
I once again seem to have accumulated seventeen (17!) books in progress, which is probably what happens when you combine ADHD with a bookshop habit and an inability to say "I'll finish this before I start something else." My main focus this week is Deadline by Mira Grant. I'm about 70% of the way through, and while some sections are still a little slow, I'm finding the conspiracy around the virus far more compelling than the politics that dominated Feed. Every time I think I know what's going on, Mira Grant introduces another layer, and I'm immediately hooked again.

🎧 Listening To:
I am absolutely loving Taylor Swift's new song. I have zero interest in seeing Toy Story 5, but the song itself somehow manages to sound like both old-school Taylor and current Taylor at the same time, which is a neat trick.

Also, for reasons known only to my subconscious, I've had John Barrowman's version of Sunset Boulevard stuck in my head for about two weeks. Not the entire musical. Not a selection of songs. Just Sunset Boulevard. On a loop. At this point I'm less listening to it and more being haunted by it.

📺 Watching:
I'm still really not watching much television. It's tricky when there's tennis on all the time! I haven't even watched Good Omens season three yet, which feels vaguely criminal given how much I love the first two seasons and the Ineffable Husbands. We are still making our way through season seven of Pointless on YouTube though, which continues to be one of my favourite comfort watches.

🎾 Tennis:
Roland Garros has been absolute carnage this year and I have loved every second of it. Even with Jannik's shock second-round exit.

The story of the women's singles tournament has absolutely been Maja Chwalińska. Ranked 114 in the world, came through qualifying, and somehow made the bloody final. I was completely invested by the end of it. Unfortunately for Maja, the person standing on the other side of the net was Mirra Andreeva.

Mirra! My baby girl! Nineteen years old and a Grand Slam champion.

I was genuinely in tears when she won.

Elsewhere, Harri Heliövaara and Henry Patten made the men's doubles final but sadly came up short. Sara Errani and Andrea Vavassori won the mixed doubles, while Katerina Siniaková and Taylor Townsend took home the women's doubles title. Tokito Oda won the men's wheelchair singles, although beating Alfie Hewett left me feeling simultaneously delighted and devastated. Diede de Groot won the women's wheelchair singles, while Alfie and Gordon Reid took home the men's wheelchair doubles title.

Honestly, as tournaments go, it's been a pretty good one for me.

The men's final was... less successful from a personal perspective. Flavio Cobolli had an incredible tournament and I was desperately hoping he could pull off one last upset, but unfortunately Alexander Zverev won the title. Ah well. Roland Garros gave me Mirra Andreeva lifting her first Grand Slam trophy and Maja Chwalińska making a completely ridiculous run from qualifying to the final, so I can't complain too much.

This ridiculous sport remains completely incapable of being boring.

🖊*Writing:
This week I submitted my final assignment of the academic year.

A 2500-word essay on the question "Was religion the main source of identity for early modern people?" My argument, in very broad terms, was that while religion permeated every aspect of early modern life, it wasn't the primary source of identity for most people. Instead, identity was constructed through overlapping forms of belonging: community, family, gender, social status, occupation, political allegiance, nationality, and emerging ideas of racial difference.

Or, put another way: I spent 2500 words explaining why the answer to a history question is "it's complicated."

🏫 Studying:
Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I am a free llama.

💭 Thinking About:
Finding a routine again.

Between essays, deadlines and life generally being Life, the last few months have felt a bit chaotic. I felt like I'd finally got into a decent rhythm with work and study... just as the academic year finishes and my work contract ends at the end of June.

Typical.

Still, that's a problem for Future Cassie. Present Cassie is choosing to enjoy not having an essay due.

📅 Planning:
Very little, actually, which feels wonderfully strange.

For the first time in months, I don't have an assignment hanging over my head. I suspect the next week will involve reading, tennis, catching up on all the things I've neglected while writing essays, and generally remembering what hobbies are.

There may even be fic.

No promises.

💖 Loving:
The absolute unpredictability of tennis.

The world number one being knocked out in the second round. A qualifier making a Grand Slam final. A nineteen-year-old winning her first Slam. Wheelchair tennis continuing to be some of the most impressive sport on the planet.

This is why I love this ridiculous sport.

I opened up this post an entry window on Monday and start writing this is. It's now Friday night and I completely forgot. But here's my Hello June post! LOL

It's always nice when a new month starts on a Monday.

I know it's completely arbitrary, but I enjoy it when the calendar lines up neatly. New week, new month, fresh page.

June has arrived and, with it, the final stretch of my school year. I have one assignment left to submit and then, for the first time in a while, I'll have a bit more room in my brain for things that aren't deadlines and word counts.

I'm trying not to make grand summer plans, but there are a few things I'd like to do:

• Finish at least some of the seventeen (17!) books I've somehow managed to have in progress at the same time.
• Spend more time blogging again.
• Write a little more of the Priest!Simone AU that's been rattling around in my head.
• Play more Palia.
• Read, write, and generally spend time on things because I enjoy them rather than because they're on a to-do list.

We'll see how many of those actually happen.

For now, though, I'm enjoying the neatness of a Monday-month start and looking forward to seeing where June takes me.

March had absolutely no plan.
No TBR. No structure. No 'I will read X books this month.' Just vibes, mood shifts, and whatever my brain decided it could focus on that day.
And somehow... I finished five books.

🌱 March Intentions
📖 Read gently
🎨 Create something small
🧡 Protect my energy
😴 Rest often
📝 Simplify tasks
Looking back, March really did lean into these. The reading wasn't forced, creativity stayed small and manageable, and I gave myself permission to rest without turning it into a failure.

📊 By the Numbers
Books read: 5
Average rating:3.9 ⭐
A very solid, quietly successful month - especially coming out of February's one-book energy.

⭐ Standout Vibes
Not a single overwhelming five-star this month, but a strong run of *consistently good* reads - the kind that keep you engaged without wrecking you emotionally (which, honestly, was exactly the energy I needed).

📚 Everything I Read
Ali Hazelwood - Loathe to Love You ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Bill Bailey's Remarkable Guide to Happiness ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Alison Maloney - Life Below Stairs ⭐⭐⭐½
Seanan McGuire - Beneath the Sugar Sky ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Nancy Warren - Mosaics and Magic ⭐⭐⭐⭐
A genuinely chaotic mix of romance, nonfiction, cosy mystery, and portal fantasy - which feels very on-brand for an unplanned reading month.

🧭 Reading Mood
March felt like a recovery month

After February's lack of focus, I found myself:
Picking up whatever held my attention fastest
Letting go of books without guilt
Leaning into comfort, familiarity, and lower-pressure reads
No overthinking. No forcing it. Just following the thread of 'does this work for me right now?'
And it worked.

💬 Mini Thoughts
Ali Hazelwood continues to be ridiculously readable - perfect for getting out of a slump
Beneath the Sugar Sky scratched that slightly surreal, emotional fantasy itch
Mosaics and Magic delivered peak cosy mystery vibes
Life Below Stairs was interesting, but didn't quite grip me the same way
Bill Bailey was exactly the kind of gentle, thoughtful nonfiction I needed this month

🌱 Final Thoughts
March didn't need structure to be successful.
It just needed permission.
Permission to read inconsistently. To follow moods. To enjoy books without turning them into a checklist.
And somehow, that led to one of the most balanced reading months I've had in a while.
If February was about softness, March was about trust.
Let's see what April brings.

The One-Book Month
February was... quieter. Not in life - absolutely not in life - but in reading.

I finished one book.

And instead of pretending that didn't happen, or dressing it up as something hyper-productive, I want to be honest about it - because this year I'm trying to let my reading life reflect my actual life.

📊 By the Numbers
Books read: 1
Pages read: 1,184
Average rating: 5 stars

That's it. That's the stats.

🌧️ What February Actually Looked Like
February was a month of:

Mental health wobbling in ways I didn't fully anticipate
University deadlines looming and then arriving all at once
Settling into a new job (which is good, but still takes energy)
Keeping up with tennis, because of course I am

And somewhere in the middle of that… a reading slump
Not the dramatic, “I hate books now” kind. Just the soft, heavy kind where picking up a book feels like one more task instead of an escape.

And I've learned enough about myself to know that when that happens, it's usually not about the book.

It's about bandwidth.

📖 The Book
The one book I finished in February was Heated Rivalry by Rachel Reid - 368 pages of sharp tension, aching intimacy, and characters who completely took up residence in my brain.

But here's the thing: while I only finished one book, I didn't only read one book.

I read 1,184 pages in total this month. I started things. I dipped in and out of stories. I got halfway through books and then set them down because my brain needed something different.

February wasn't a no-reading month. It was a no-finishing month.

And that feels like an important distinction.

Heated Rivalry just happened to be the one that carried me all the way to the end - the one that held my attention when my focus felt fractured. There's something fitting about a romance built on long-term tension being the story I could commit to in a month where everything else felt unsettled.

🧠 Reading Slumps & Soft Expectations
I'm trying not to measure my reading in productivity terms.

Eight books in January doesn't make me “better” than one book in February. It just means January had more space.

This year - especially with university and work balancing each other out - I want my bookstagram and blog to reflect reality, not output. Some months will be chaotic stacks and genre deep dives. Some months will be one dog-eared paperback and a lot of late nights staring at ceilings.

Both count.

🌱 Looking Ahead
If February was about surviving and stabilising, maybe March can be about rediscovering joy.

No pressure. No strict TBR. Just following whatever mood feels gentle and manageable.

If you also had a slow month - you're not alone. And if you devoured twelve books, I'm cheering for you too.

Reading seasons shift. We're allowed to shift with them.

So I have chronic insomnia, right? It’s pretty normal for me to still be awake at 2, 3 in the morning. 

⭐️⭐️⭐️ (3 stars)

Insurgent is an interesting but uneven middle book - one that kept my attention without ever fully winning me over.

I'm very aware that I'm not the target audience for this series, and I think that colours my response here. There's a lot in Insurgent that will work well for readers invested in the characters and the world, particularly the escalating stakes and constant forward momentum.

At the same time, the novel often feels busy rather than deep. The plot is packed with movement, faction politics, and shifting alliances, but emotional beats are rushed through in favour of action. As a result, moments that should land hard sometimes pass by without much impact.

That said, I was intrigued. The world-building continues to raise interesting questions about control, identity, and rebellion, and the series' larger ideas kept me turning pages even when the execution didn't fully work for me. Tris remains a compelling central figure, even if I never felt as emotionally connected as the story seemed to want me to be.

Ultimately, Insurgent is a solid, readable sequel that does what it needs to do to move the story forward. It didn't quite click for me, but I can absolutely see why it resonates with its intended audience.

It has been a week, y'all. It has been a week

I quit my job.

There isn't a shiny next thing lined up, no dramatic leap to a new role, no tidy narrative arc where I immediately land on my feet. Just... an ending, and the quiet (and slightly terrifying) space that comes after it.

A lot of this comes down to the airport and the ongoing issues there that have been grinding me down for a long time. Throw in the recent sale and murmurings of 're-organisation (but apparently our jobs are safe... uh-huh, not my first rodeo, my dude). Add in my disabilities - the ones that don't get better if you just push harder, the ones that flare when the world decides to be loud and unpredictable and physically demanding - and something finally clicked into place this week.

Full-time, on-site work is no longer sustainable for me.

That's not an easy thing to admit. I've circled around it for ages, tried to negotiate with myself, told myself I could just adjust one more thing, power through one more rough patch. But the reality is that the cost keeps getting higher, and I'm the one paying it with my health.

Li and I talked it through properly - not in a panicked way, but in that calm, practical, loving way that says okay, let's actually look at what life needs to look like now. And we've landed on a plan that feels... doable. Not perfect, not magically fixed, but realistic.

I'm going to start looking for either:

• full-time remote work, or
• part-time work that gets me out of the house without breaking me in the process.

It's a shift. It's also a bit of grief, if I'm honest - for the version of me who could just do full-time work without it costing everything else. But it's also a relief. Naming the limit instead of constantly crashing into it feels like an act of self-respect, even if it's a hard-won one.

Right now, I'm trying to sit in the in-between without spiralling too far ahead. Rest a little. Breathe. Let my nervous system unclench. Trust that making a choice in favour of my health isn't failure, even if it doesn't look like success the way it used to.

If nothing else, this week has been a reminder that I don't have to keep proving I can survive things that are actively harming me. I'm allowed to build a life that fits the body and brain I actually have.

More soon, probably. But for now: this is where I am.