Michaela's Musings

  I couldn’t describe an orgasm. Not even if I tried. But for you, dear reader, I shall try. There’s something transcendent about it. Fingers working in tandem with the sensations pulsing through my body. The way they flick and rub my sensitive nub, ushering me to a higher plane of existence. Carnal fantasies swirl around my head. Strong hands gripping soft flesh. Red marks painting my thighs. Mouths nipping at my sensitive buds. The messiness of pleasure. It’s like running a marathon. Muscles tensing as every caress draws me closer and closer to the edge.  Until I leap…and soar.  My back arches off from the bed, drawing raspy moans and murmurs from my lips. Body thrashing back and forth from the overwhelming thrill of being airborne. I ride my high until I cannot float anymore. I’m left breathless. My body singing with sleepy comfort. A dopey smile spreads across my face. My fingers sticky with the residue of my pinnacle—its slight saltiness tantalizing. Earthbound as we...

"A new species would bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to me" - Mary Shelley, Frankenstein Growing up,  Frankenstein  was my favorite novel. The trope of a mad scientist playing God is both bone-chilling and thought-provoking in its exploration of humanity's often violating curiosity. Victor Frankenstein's attempts to defy death delineate a sort of womb envy that bypasses women entirely. A theme I find extremely fascinating. Over the past few months, I've watched a handful of Frankenstein adaptations and riffs (thank you Tubi!). Of these films were  The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962) , Re-Animator , and Frankenhooker . These were a hoot to watch. Absolute cult classics. While they err more on the comedic side, I found myself drawn to the subtle themes about female autonomy and the male gaze. The Brain That Wouldn't Die (1962) "I told you to let me die" - Jan Compton The defining feature of ...

  "We don't wanna hear you say 'nigga' no more" - "Euphoria" by Kendrick Lamar Lamar at the 2026 Grammy Awards  On February 1st, rapper Kendrick Lamar set a new record at the Grammy Awards. Winning five out of his nine nominations, Lamar is now the most awarded rapper in history with 27 Gramophones—surpassing Jay Z's 25. This morning, two of my white classmates were discussing this year's Grammy Awards. Particularly that Kendrick Lamar didn't deserve his wins for Best Rap Album or Record of the Year—that the prestigious award show just likes to throw awards at him, among other denigrations of gnx  and Lamar's artistry as a whole. Once upon a time, white people would have never  dared to insert themselves into rap and hip-hop spaces. The music industry has always been a money-making business, but some spaces prioritized musical integrity more than others.  Rap and hip-hop were born out of a need to be heard—to critique the systems that ena...

"What is your woman? Is she just a container for the child? That soft pink matter" - "Pink Matter" by Frank Ocean  Content Warning: Discussions of sexuality   Every time I consider going back to Catholicism, I end up at the same conclusions. Religion is too restrictive. Too pure, too clean, too…perfect. It sows guilt for simply being. For being a woman. For bleeding. For curiosity. For thirst. For having an appetite.  I don’t know about you guys, but I have a big fucking appetite. Growing up, and even now, I've always been a big foodie. Whether it's shrimp roti or a bowl of cavatappi, I've always had a deep appreciation for well made food. Eating slowly, savoring every morsel with primal enjoyment.  Throughout my childhood, asceticism was prized. Abstinence from all forms of indulgence. As a chubby child, my parents would encourage me to fast and go on diets. Chide me for taking seconds while filling my brother's plate because "he's a growin...

Something I want to establish is exactly how I conceptualize my animistic views. All of the major fixtures of our world are feminine in my eyes. Embodying this energy in different ways.  The Sun is fierce, ever-burning individuality that never sleeps.  The Moon is soothing, tranquil peace that encourages us to rest and recharge.  The Ocean is a mighty yet nurturing presence teaching us how to let go.  The Earth is a resilient and gentle mother who never lets her children go without.  The Universe is the fast-paced, ever-changing, wet womb constantly creating.  And in one way or another, we are expressions of this divinity.  We are not at the mercy of a tyrannical ruler. Our existence is relational. Sisters, lovers, and mothers. Dependent on how we treat each other. That is how our love and joy live on. Everything is cyclical. Creation, death, and rebirth. Energy cannot be destroyed; it simply takes another form. Everything lives and dies. From hum...

Happy Sunday, everyone! I've been on a mythology and ancient history kick recently, and this is the result. This poem was inspired by the biblical Vision of the Valley of Dry Bones in Ezekiel. Happy reading! The Valley of Dry Bones An endless valley, beat down with heat.  Bleached bones litter the ground,  Abandoned by their god.  Some cracked, others worn down by the passage of time.  Unyielding in its march forward.  Damned for eternity.  Lying in wait.  For what?  Scorching sand pinches my toes as I journey across the barren land.  In my veins, lies the answer.  Blood blessed by an elder monk.  Meant to heal, soothe, and restore.  I must make it to the other side.  The wild wind howls, breathing life back into these worn cadavers.  Hollow rattling fills the air.  Ankles, legs, knees, and necks binding together once more.  Inky voids stare into my flesh and blood.  Face to face with what their god has...