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Weekly Anime Releases Still Matter And Jujutsu Kaisen Season 3 Proved It February 2, 2026

I’ve always been a binge watcher.

Give me the whole season and let me disappear for a weekend and I’m happy. No waiting. No cliffhangers. No dodging spoilers while scrolling. Just me and the story on my own time.

But Jujutsu Kaisen Season 3 really made me rethink that.

Every single episode this season has had the internet in a frenzy. Not just hype, but real moments. Moments that live on the timeline all week.

The first episode drops and suddenly every artist on the internet is drawing Naoya Zenin throwing that one hand punch while fixing his hair. My entire timeline was flooded with fan art, edits, and recreations of that moment. One scene sparked thousands of artists to create at once.

Then two weeks later Maki’s massacre episode hits and the internet explodes all over again.

Even the exposition episode in Tengen’s lair, which people criticized, still had everyone talking. Some loved it, some hated it, but the important part is that people were engaged. Conversations were happening everywhere.

And that’s what weekly anime does.

It forces discussion. It builds anticipation. It gives everyone something shared to look forward to.

But the moment that really convinced me was Yuji and Hakari’s first meeting. When Yuji had to recruit Hakari without revealing he was with Jujutsu High.

The animation was so smooth and cinematic I literally told my friends it should win an award for cinematography.

Later I found out the scene used rotoscoping, and it made perfect sense. Watching it didn’t feel like anime. It felt like watching two real actors interact. The pacing, body language, and subtle movements felt like a film scene.

My timeline was full of praise and clips. Everybody was posting that sequence.

And now I’m sitting here excited for next week’s episode even though I already know how this story ends. I’m way ahead in the manga.

But weekly releases create something binge drops can’t.

Shared excitement in real time.

You get a full week of theories, memes, edits, debates, and anticipation. Characters become moments. Episodes become events.

Hakari hype right now is so real I even got bro modeling my WELÇOME© hoodies like he just signed to WME or something.

Weekly anime stretches a story across months instead of days, keeping everyone emotionally invested together.

And honestly, huge respect to MAPPA because these animators are delivering movie level sequences on a weekly schedule. Those animators deserve insane money for the work they’re putting out.

I still love binging shows, but JJK Season 3 reminded me that sometimes the wait is part of the magic. The community needs those weekly drops. When an episode lands and the whole internet reacts at the same time, that feeling is undefeated.

And now we’re about to go right back into that feeling again because I cannot wait for Steel Ball Run to premiere in March and have the entire internet in a chokehold all over again.

A Law License Is Like a Hunter License

The test is only the beginning.

January 19, 2026

There’s something about Hunter x Hunter that hits different when you’ve been through something that demanded everything from you.

In the show, a Hunter License isn’t treated like a regular credential. It’s not a trophy. It’s not just a badge. It’s not even just proof that you passed a test. It’s an artifact. A passport. A key. A symbol that tells the world you survived a process most people wouldn’t even understand.

And the more I thought about it, the more it hit me: a law license feels the same way.

People hear “lawyer” and they immediately jump to the image. They think about suits, money, status, or confidence. They don’t think about the internal grind it takes to even become the type of person who can carry that kind of responsibility. They don’t think about the pressure. The loneliness. The mental fatigue. The way your brain starts to feel like it’s always working, even when you’re trying to rest.

In Hunter x Hunter, the Hunter Exam isn’t just hard because it’s physically demanding. It’s hard because it forces you to confront yourself. It tests your endurance, yes, but it also tests your decision-making under stress. It tests how you handle confusion. It tests whether you can keep going when you’re not sure you’re built for it. It tests whether you can push through the moment when your mind starts whispering that quitting would be easier.

That’s the part people don’t talk about with law. They talk about the outcome. They don’t talk about the transformation.

The truth is, earning a license like that changes you. Not just professionally, but personally. You start seeing the world differently. You start moving differently. You start carrying yourself like someone who has been through something real. Something that required discipline, repetition, sacrifice, and a kind of obsession that the average person can’t relate to.

And what’s crazy is that even after you get it, it doesn’t mean you’re safe. In the show, having a Hunter License doesn’t protect you from danger. It gives you access to a world where danger is real. It opens doors, but it also raises the stakes. It lets you step into rooms most people will never enter, but it also puts you in situations where the consequences are higher.

That’s how the law feels too. People think the license is the finish line. But it’s really the entry point. It’s permission to operate in a world where decisions matter. Where precision matters. Where your preparation matters. Where you can’t afford to be sloppy, because real lives and real outcomes are tied to what you do.

And the deeper you go, the more you realize that mastery is never done.

That’s another reason the Hunter comparison is perfect. The best Hunters aren’t the ones who passed the exam and stopped. They keep evolving. They keep training. They keep learning. They keep building new skills because the world they’re in demands it. The moment they get comfortable, they get surpassed. The moment they stop growing, they get caught lacking.

It’s the same with being a lawyer. You’re always learning. You’re always sharpening. You’re always adjusting. You’re always getting better because the work requires it. The law is alive. It moves. It shifts. It changes. And you either grow with it, or you fall behind.

Sometimes people will look at you and say “must be nice.” They’ll assume you got lucky. They’ll assume it came easy. But the people who really know what it takes understand that there’s no luck involved. You don’t get a license like that by accident. You get it by doing the work, even when you’re tired. Even when you’re unsure. Even when you’re doubting yourself. You get it by staying in the fight long enough to come out different on the other side.

So yeah, a law license is like a Hunter License.

Not because it makes you better than anyone. But because it proves you survived something real.

And more importantly, it proves you’re the type of person who can keep growing after the test is over.

Because the truth is, the exam was never the end.

It was just the beginning.

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The Unofficial KAWS x SLAWN Controversy: A Misstep in Inspiration

When I first saw SLAWN’s post, I’ll be honest — my heart skipped. KAWS x SLAWN? This could be huge. The images showed massive sculptures clearly drawing from the KAWS visual language, paired with a caption thanking KAWS as if this was an official collaboration. The art world knows KAWS doesn’t just hand out co-signs, so naturally, I thought this was a big moment. But then KAWS himself jumped into the comments to clarify:

“I have nothing to do with this. This is misleading!”

And that’s where the whole thing unraveled.

The Issue Isn’t the Art — It’s the Framing

I’m not here to say artists shouldn’t take inspiration. KAWS himself built part of his legacy by reshaping pop culture icons through his lens, flipping imagery in ways the mainstream wasn’t ready for. SLAWN working in that spirit makes sense.

The problem is how it was presented. The caption “SLAWN X KAWS” without a clear disclaimer made it seem like this was a sanctioned collab. And when you’ve got a platform, names carry weight. Whether intentional or not, that framing misleads.

A simple fix could have avoided this whole mess:

“This isn’t an official collaboration — it’s my tribute to KAWS, a celebration of his work through my own vision.”

That’s it. People still would have understood the intent, KAWS may have appreciated the homage, and the audience wouldn’t feel baited.

Why This Matters More Than Just One Post

KAWS isn’t some anonymous commercial entity. He’s a living, breathing artist whose work has shaped an entire lane of contemporary pop art. By leaning too hard into the “this is a movement” energy and suggesting parity with KAWS’s earlier years, SLAWN risks alienating the very person he’s celebrating.

Worse, he might have permanently closed the door to a genuine relationship with a role model. And let’s be real — in an era where brands are quick to send cease-and-desist letters, it’s only a matter of time before lawyers start circling.

The Slippery Slope for Independent Artists

As someone who runs WELÇOME, I know what it’s like to put out work that nods to existing cultural IP. I’ve never had an official license for my drops. But the difference is transparency. I encourage people to support the source material even when my work riffs on it.

This isn’t about “big commercial artist vs. smaller artist.” SLAWN already has big collaborations under his belt. But KAWS is still a bigger household name — and navigating that difference requires more care.

Why I Think SLAWN Is Better Than This

Even if SLAWN says, “I paint like a 6-year-old,” anyone watching can see he has vision, drive, and a clear modus operandi. This move feels like a dilution of that. It’s not about gatekeeping — it’s about keeping your legacy clean.

How I’d Handle It If I Were Him

If I were in SLAWN’s shoes right now, I’d:

Issue a public apology for the misleading caption.

Clarify that the work is unofficial and purely an homage.

Stop actively promoting the sculpture — let it live without fanning the flames.

Don’t destroy it, don’t hide it — but don’t keep pushing it as if there’s no tension.

Final Thought: Artists Need to Stick Together

This shouldn’t become a case study in “commercial artists vs. independents.” The art world doesn’t need another divide. We need mutual respect — not only for each other’s work but also for the relationships that make collaboration possible.

I hope SLAWN and KAWS settle this without courts or bitterness. Because talent like SLAWN’s deserves to be remembered for groundbreaking moves — not for one caption that burned a bridge.

The Downfall of Hyper Independence

January 7, 2024

The Illusion of Strength

Hyper independence is often celebrated as a badge of honor in a world where self-reliance is seen as the ultimate marker of strength. The notion of "I’ve got it, I don’t need anyone" resonates deeply with many of us, especially those who’ve had to endure hardships and rely solely on their own abilities to push through. But what happens when hyper independence becomes less of a survival tool and more of a prison?

The Roots of Hyper Independence

For those of us raised in environments where dependency was a weakness—where asking for help was met with ridicule, rejection, or simply no response—hyper independence can feel like the only way to move forward. It's a mindset born out of necessity, one that says, "If I don’t do it, nobody will." And while it can fuel ambition and resilience, it also builds walls so high that no one can climb over to help, even when you desperately need it.

The Cost of Isolation

Hyper independence thrives on the illusion of control. You feel accomplished when you handle things alone. You’re proud when you juggle multiple responsibilities without breaking a sweat—at least outwardly. But behind closed doors, hyper independence is lonely. It’s exhausting. It’s isolating. The very traits that others admire about you are the ones eating away at your soul.

I’ve been there—balancing ten different plates, refusing to let anyone so much as touch a single one. Whether it’s financial struggles, family burdens, or professional pressures, I’ve told myself countless times, I’ll figure it out. And in many cases, I have. But at what cost? Burnout, resentment, and the sinking realization that my refusal to lean on others has robbed me of deeper connections.

The Truth About Vulnerability

You see, hyper independence isn’t strength—it’s armor. It’s a shield we use to protect ourselves from disappointment. If no one helps, they can’t let you down. If you never depend on anyone, you don’t have to deal with betrayal. But in protecting ourselves from vulnerability, we’re also cutting ourselves off from the benefits of community, love, and shared burdens.

Think about the moments where you genuinely needed someone but kept silent. Think about the times you struggled and someone offered help, but you declined because you didn’t want to appear weak. Hyper independence convinces us that being vulnerable is synonymous with being powerless. In reality, vulnerability is a bridge—it connects us to others in ways that hyper independence never can.

Breaking Free from the Cycle

So how do we break free? It starts with reframing our definition of strength. True strength isn’t about doing everything on your own; it’s about knowing when to ask for help. It’s about understanding that independence and interdependence can coexist. You can stand tall and still lean on others when necessary. You can be self-reliant and still invite people into your life to share the load.

For me, letting go of hyper independence has been a gradual process. It’s meant unlearning the idea that asking for help makes me weak. It’s meant recognizing that people who genuinely care about you want to help, not to diminish you but to stand beside you. And it’s meant forgiving myself for the years I spent thinking I had to do it all alone.

A New Definition of Strength

The downfall of hyper independence isn’t about abandoning self-reliance. It’s about finding balance. It’s about knowing when to carry the weight and when to pass it off. It’s about understanding that we’re not meant to live this life in solitary confinement, no matter how capable we are. Because in the end, the strongest people aren’t the ones who never need help—they’re the ones who know how to ask for it.