Author: Eryn 🐰

This weekend Hector and I went to see Disclosure Day, and I walked out with the same feeling I have after a lot of alien movies:

“Okay, aliens are real. Now what?”

Before the internet comes for me, let me say this: I actually enjoyed the movie. It was entertaining. The acting was good. The pacing kept me interested. There was enough mystery to keep me guessing, and somehow they managed to cram what felt like three separate movies into a story that takes place over roughly two days.

For those who haven’t seen it, spoilers ahead.

The world in Disclosure Day is already falling apart. Humanity is standing on the edge of World War III. Governments are hiding secrets. A mysterious government agency is desperately trying to stop a leak that could change everything. Our main characters are a man on the run with classified information and a woman with a supernatural ability to connect people through their thoughts, memories, and grief.

It’s a lot.

But my biggest issue wasn’t with the story itself.

It’s that I don’t think I’m the target audience for alien movies anymore.

As much as I enjoy science fiction and fantasy, I don’t actually believe in aliens. Maybe that’s my religious upbringing. Maybe it’s because both of my parents are giant sci-fi nerds and I’ve had aliens, spaceships, and conspiracy theories shoved down my throat since I was a kid. Whatever the reason, Hector has pointed out multiple times that I am completely unfazed by alien movies.

He’s right.

The big reveal in these stories is always, “What if humanity discovered aliens were real?”

And every single time my response is:

“Okay.”

Not because I think it would be boring, but because I don’t think the consequences would be what movies think they would be.

In Disclosure Day, the existence of aliens is treated as a civilization-altering revelation. A character brings up the morality of sharing this information as if knowing this society as a whole begins unraveling. That people will panic. We already see the government scramble. But every character acts like nothing will ever be the same again.

But would it?

One of the major revelations is that the American government has supposedly covered up evidence for decades.

And my immediate thought was:

Why would I only blame America?

If aliens have been visiting Earth for seventy years, you’re telling me they only landed in the United States?

Absolutely not.

If anything, I’d come away distrusting every government on the planet equally.

The movie seems to imply that alien disclosure would instantly unite humanity. Hector actually agrees with that idea. His argument is that proof of intelligent life beyond Earth would make our wars seem pointless.

I get the logic.

I just don’t buy it.

Human beings have never needed a good reason to fight each other.

We fight over land, religion, resources, politics, history, borders, money, pride, and sometimes things that happened centuries ago.

I don’t see humanity collectively holding hands because aliens exist.

I see humanity arguing about what to do next.

And that leads me to my biggest question:

Why are the aliens coming back?

Seriously.

If humans have spent decades capturing, experimenting on, torturing, and hiding evidence of alien contact, why would any advanced civilization voluntarily return?

Why isn’t Earth listed somewhere in the galaxy as:

“Do not visit. Extremely hostile locals.”

The second the movie suggested the aliens wanted direct contact, my brain immediately jumped to the old TV series V.

If you’ve never seen it, the aliens show up claiming friendship and peaceful intentions.

Spoiler alert: they absolutely want something.

Resources. Labor. Access.

The whole thing turns into a giant metaphor for colonialism and exploitation.

That’s where my mind goes.

Not peace.

Not enlightenment.

Suspicion.

Because if an advanced civilization capable of interstellar travel suddenly takes an interest in Earth, I assume they want something.

And if they want something, that’s probably bad news for us.

The movie wants us to believe that disclosure changes everything.

I think it creates entirely new problems.

Do we allow alien contact?

Do we attempt diplomacy?

Do we militarize?

Do we create a global government response?

Do nations cooperate or compete?

Do we invest heavily in space exploration?

And if we do, where does that money come from?

Because that’s where my brain always ends up.

We currently have millions of people struggling to afford food, housing, healthcare, and education.

Yet every alien movie eventually arrives at the conclusion that humanity should throw enormous resources toward space programs and interstellar projects.

Maybe that’s necessary.

Maybe it’s not.

But I can’t help looking around at Earth and thinking we haven’t exactly finished dealing with our current problems.

So no, I don’t think discovering aliens would bring world peace.

I think it would bring more chaos to a world that already feels stretched to its limits.

Which is funny, because despite all of these complaints, I still liked Disclosure Day.

I just spent the entire drive home arguing with it.

And maybe that’s the point.

The movie entertained me.

The conversation afterward frustrated me.

But at least it gave me something to think about.

Even if my final conclusion remains:

“Okay, aliens are real. Now what?”

I thought sending out baby shower invitations would be easy.

I had my wedding less than a year. I literally just did this. How hard could it be?

Apparently, very hard.

For starters, there are so many people whose addresses I don’t have. That’s not even the weird part. The weird part is that I reached out and asked for them… and then people just never responded.

At a certain point, what am I supposed to do? Send the invitation through vibes? Manifest it directly into your mailbox? I think virtual cards are a little cringy.

I hate being the person who follows up three times. If I ask for your address and you don’t answer, I’m eventually going to assume you don’t want an invitation. So if you’re reading this and wondering where yours is… check your messages.

Then there’s the identity crisis portion of this adventure.

Why does nobody go by their actual name?

I have an aunt who has been Wanda for my entire life. Not once has anyone called her anything else. Apparently Wanda is not her real name.

How was I supposed to know that?

Trying to address envelopes has turned into a genealogy project. Every five minutes my mom is telling me, “Actually her legal name is…” and I’m sitting there wondering if I’ve known any of my relatives at all.

The thing that’s really confusing me, though, is the math.

I ordered the exact same number of invitations, envelopes, and stamps as I did for my wedding.

The exact same number.

Two people who came to the wedding aren’t coming to the baby shower. Fair enough.

So why do I somehow have six extra invitations?

Where did these mystery wedding guests come from? Did I accidentally invite strangers to my wedding? Did people multiply? Did someone bring four emotional support plus-ones that I forgot about?

I genuinely don’t understand.

All I know is that between tracking down addresses, discovering everyone’s secret government name, and questioning my own ability to count, sending baby shower invitations has been way more stressful than I expected.

The good news is that the invitations are almost done.

The bad news is that if anyone asks me for an address after this, I’m deleting my phone and moving to a cabin in the woods.

This morning I was convinced I was coming down with a sinus infection or, somehow, experiencing seasonal allergies for the first time since childhood.

Nope.

Just another exciting pregnancy perk unlocked: pregnancy rhinitis.

Apparently, pregnancy rhinitis is nasal congestion, sneezing, or a runny nose that happens during pregnancy without any actual allergies or infection causing it. The culprit? Rising hormones and increased blood flow, which can make the tissues inside your nasal passages swell.

And before anyone asks: no, this is not the infamous “pregnancy nose” situation. Trust me, I think about pregnancy nose daily. This is specifically the nasal passages swelling, not my actual nose deciding to expand its real estate.

Pregnancy continues to be a fascinating game of “Is this a medical issue or just another completely normal symptom no one warned me about?”

One pregnancy surprise I wasn’t expecting? My hair changing during pregnancy.

I had always heard about postpartum hair changes and hair loss, so I knew that was something many women experience after giving birth. But somehow I never connected the dots that pregnancy hormones could start changing my hair long before then.

Now that I’m 6 months pregnant, I’ve noticed my curl pattern starting to change. Some curls are looser, others seem to have a completely different texture, and my hair just doesn’t behave the way it used to. It’s such a small thing, but it’s been one of those unexpected reminders of how much our bodies adapt during pregnancy.

Pregnancy has definitely been a lesson in expecting the unexpected—and apparently, that includes my curls too.

Six weeks ago, Qira had seven puppies.

And if you’ve ever spent five minutes on the internet, you already know what comes next: apparently I’m the world’s worst dog owner.

When I posted the puppies on Nextdoor, I got absolutely roasted. People called me a backyard breeder. Said I was trying to make money instead of getting a job. Said I was irresponsible for rehoming the puppies before eight weeks. The comments got so bad that my post was eventually removed for being considered harmful.

The thing is, strangers only saw one tiny piece of the story.

What they didn’t see was Qira.

Qira was only four months old when I adopted her. I’d never raised a puppy before. When it came time to get her spayed, I followed my vet’s recommendation and waited until after her first heat cycle.

Then I went to Vegas, because my mom was in the hospital.

While I was in Vegas, Qira and Garrus were supposed to be kept separated. My roommate was responsible for watching them and didn’t think it was necessary to use a dog diaper or take the extra precautions I had asked for. Hector wasn’t home—he was at work—and I was hundreds of miles away.

By the time I got back, the damage was already done.

Seven puppies later, here we are.

What hurt most about the comments was the assumption that this was planned.

Trust me, if I wanted puppies, I would’ve picked a time when I wasn’t pregnant, preparing for a move, working, going to school, and generally trying not to lose my mind.

This wasn’t some breeding project.

This was an accident.

And honestly? The hardest part wasn’t even the pregnancy. It was watching Qira become a mom.

Because she didn’t want to be one.

I know that sounds harsh, but it’s the truth.

From the beginning, she seemed miserable. She hated feeding the puppies. She avoided them whenever she could. There were multiple times where we had to intervene because she was being rough with them. She stopped eating properly. She barely drank water. She became so skinny that it scared me.

The best way I can describe it is that she seemed depressed.

Every day felt like a balancing act between making sure the puppies were okay and making sure Qira was okay.

So when people online kept screaming, “The puppies need their mom!”

I wanted to scream back, “Their mom doesn’t want them.”

That sounds awful to say out loud, but anyone who watched what was happening in my house would understand.

We started weaning the puppies earlier because it became clear that keeping them dependent on Qira wasn’t helping anyone—especially Qira.

And despite what the internet thought, I wasn’t trying to get rid of them because they were inconvenient.

I was trying to find them good homes.

And I did.

Almost every single puppy found a family.

People who were excited about them. People who wanted them. People who could give them the attention and love they deserve.

That’s all I wanted from the beginning.

But now there’s another decision sitting on my chest.

Qira.

Between moving to Vegas, having a baby in September, figuring out where Hector and I will be living, and trying to build a stable future, I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep her.

Just typing that makes me cry.

Because I love that dog.

She’s my first baby, she isn’t even one yet and I already failed her.

But sometimes loving an animal means being honest about whether you’re the best person to care for them.

And that’s a question I’ve been struggling with every day.

Maybe that’s why the Nextdoor comments got under my skin so much.

I’m pregnant.

Every criticism feels bigger right now.

When people called me irresponsible, part of me didn’t just hear “bad dog owner.”

I heard, “You’re going to be a bad mom.”

I know those aren’t the same thing.

But anxiety isn’t exactly famous for being reasonable.

The truth is, I’ve spent months worrying about these animals. Crying over impossible decisions. Losing sleep. Trying to figure out what was best for everyone involved.

That doesn’t sound like someone who doesn’t care.

It sounds like someone who’s terrified of getting it wrong because getting it right matters so much.

Maybe that’s what parenting is.

Not always knowing the perfect answer.

Not always making everyone happy.

Just loving someone enough to carry the weight of difficult decisions.

The internet can think whatever it wants.

At the end of the day, I know every choice I’ve made came from trying to do right by the animals and people I love.

And right now, that’s enough.

I don’t like movies that leave me feeling uncomfortable, and that’s exactly what Obsession did.

It’s not scary in the traditional horror sense. There aren’t endless jump scares or tons of over-the-top kills. The horror comes from the tension. It’s that feeling that something is wrong, that something awful is going to happen, but you don’t know what or when. The entire movie had me stressed out.

Will I ever watch it again? Probably not.

Not because it’s bad—it’s actually brilliant. The performances are fantastic, the tension is expertly built, and it does exactly what it sets out to do. I was just too stressed while watching it. Maybe now that I know what’s coming it wouldn’t feel as intense, but honestly, I don’t want to risk finding out.

One of the biggest highlights for me was Inde Navarrette. I’ve loved watching actors grow in their careers, and I’ve been a fan of hers since Superman & Lois. This is the first time I’ve seen her on the big screen, and I want to see so much more of her. Give me Inde Navarrette and Mia Goth in horror and drama movies forever. They bring an intensity and emotional depth that I think deserves far more praise.

And while we’re talking performances, this movie reminded me how much I appreciate actors who can make you feel something—even if that feeling is hatred. I absolutely despised the main male character, and that’s a credit to Michael Johnston’s performance. When an actor can pull a genuine emotional reaction out of me, they’ve done their job.

It’s the same reason Hector hates Rosamund Pike’s characters in Gone Girl and I Care a Lot. He can’t stand those characters, but the second he sees Rosamund Pike is in a movie, he’s interested because he knows she’s going to make him feel something. That’s a skill that feels increasingly rare.

Lately, I’ve noticed there are a lot of movies where I’m clearly supposed to root for the main character, but I just don’t care. Sometimes the writing isn’t there. Sometimes the performance isn’t there. Sometimes the character is just… mediocre. Recently we watched a movie where I couldn’t connect with the protagonist at all, and I don’t even remember the movie’s name now. That’s how little impact it had.

Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’ve consumed too much media and become harder to impress.

But I honestly think movies aren’t being made the same way anymore.

However I’ve recently loved movies like You, Me and Tuscany,  I love Bootsers, and Project Hail Mary for the same reason. They made me invest emotionally.

At the end of the day, that’s what I want from a movie. Not perfection. Not prestige. Just something that makes me feel.

Obsession definitely did that.

Maybe a little too well.