3 Things I Loved, March 2026
Since I have this space, I want to keep a record of the things I loved each month. It can be a book, a movie, a song, an album, a manga series, something I saw on TV, or heard, a new recipe I tried, a dish I ate, or even a material object. Why? Because it’s fun to talk and read about beloved things!
So, in March 2026, I got really into:
1. Hirayasumi, Shinzo Keigo
Here’s the thing about media that resonates perfectly with you and where you are in life— how does it work? Is it that it miraculously finds you at the just right time, or is it that it reflects back at you the issues that you have been grappling with, and so creates the illusion of timeliness? That’s what I’ve been wondering with Hirayasumi.
On its surface, Hirayasumi is the story of Hiroto, 30 years old, already retired from a short acting career and with no bigger worries than what to cook for dinner, and his 18-year-old cousin Natsumi, who has moved in with him to attend art school in Tokyo. Together, they live in a humble house Hiroto inherited from Wada-san, an old lady he befriended by chance.
Hirayasumi’s strength is how it presents these different ways of approaching life, exemplified best by the two cousins: Hiroto’s seemingly aimless and carefree days versus Natsumi’s fiery, youthful ambition as she chases her debut as a manga artist. Or as the manga puts it, a man who refuses to change, and a girl on the cusp of immense change. What makes Hirayasumi truly special is how it stands removed from offering judgement on either option. One isn’t better than the other, both come with joy and struggles, and in the end, what is best is—in Wada-san’s words—whatever works for you.
And sure, there’s a lot to be said about the journey to accepting what you want, but there is also the coming to terms with the choices you’ve made or are going to have to make to get there. To chase a career or to live a simple life, to make meaning as an artist or to create what brings you joy, to have a child or to remain childless— Hiroto, Natsumi, and Wada-san all live in some way counter to norms, and much of the plot moves around them alternately questioning and making peace with their choices.
From Hirayasumi, Vol. 6 (2025)
In that sense, Hirayasumi is a manga about life and figuring out how to live it. It is also about the day-to-day incidents that make up a life, nothing big or earth-shaking, but the lancing joy of humanity in small, sweet moments. The lows too are grounded and familiar: disappointment at rejection, the complex feelings that arise when a peer succeeds, how grief lurks in the mundane, the steady confrontation of less than easy truths behind the decisions we make. (I should also say there was a reveal in a panel that made me so sad my stomach hurt.)
Hirayasumi is evocative without being overly saccharine or sentimental. It never lingers. One gets the sense of being plainly presented with these moments, the art as clear as the uninflected narrative voice, never telling you what to feel. Yet I was frequently moved to tears at its depiction of human connection and instances of simple yet shattering beauty: the sight of a familiar neighbourhood street turned unforgettable by the warmth of conversation; the sudden joyous and agonising memory of childhood days in the midst of immense stress; sunlight caught and refracted through the water droplets from a hose as an old woman waters her plants and says everything is going to be okay.
Reading Hirayasumi, I found myself primed to notice such moments of beauty in my days and in my relationships; I found myself encouraged to live.
2. Pokémon Pokopia
I knew from the moment I saw the first trailer for this game that it was going to be a game I would lose hours of my life to. The combination of Pokémon, a franchise I have loved for nearly 30 years, with building elements and a focus on creating cute habitats and homes? I was sold.
Even so, I can admit that the game is at times incredibly overwhelming. Each new region you discover is more of a wreck than the last, looking almost impossible to restore. As you progress, your options for what to do grow in terrifying magnitude. Somehow there always is one more Pokemon to find, one more repair to make, one more request to fill, and it’s all too easy to get waylaid and overwhelmed.
But what makes Pokopia work, besides the freedom it gives you to go at your own pace, is the feeling that every small action you take counts. In this already ruined world, when you are at rock bottom, what can you do? You can only improve it, and slowly. Every step, no matter how small, leaves the world better than it was before.
A scene from my Pokopia town.
As I made my way through the game, my mind kept returning to a quote I read from a cookbook over a decade ago:
“Whether it’s nudging dried leaves around a patch of cement, or salting a tomato, we feel, when we exert tiny bits of our human preference in the universe, more alive.”
To me, that’s the appeal of Pokopia. Each block you put down and each cute little habitat you create is an exertion of your own preference in a world where it is far too common to feel whipped about and battered by circumstances outside your control. Pokopia lets you wrest back some of that lost autonomy and create some goodness in this ruined world. It helps also that each Pokemon, depicted closer to animals in previous games, are given charming personality and dialogue, sweetly cheering you on as you work. For a moment, these pixels on a screen feel as real as the intangible thoughts and fears that assault the mind.
3. This blog!
Why start and write a blog in 2026? Because I can’t think of a better place to exist on my own terms. I find it difficult to keep up with social media, but I still yearn for connection. Or at least, to have my writings and feelings stored somewhere that’s a little more accessible and public than my notebooks. Also, having grown up and made formative friendships on Livejournal, there’s something exciting and long forgotten about having a place to put my writings and thoughts without waiting for someone else to publish it for me. In the past month, I’ve found so much joy in gathering my thoughts and setting up this space— a place to call my own.
31 March 2026