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madam-whim · 4 months

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The Gold Road Reveal and my thoughts on it

I’m gonna start this off by saying I love ESO. I have been playing since 2017 and I’m pretty much doing everything the game has to offer. Quests, dungeons, trials, antiquities, sometimes PvP. That being said, this post will include lots of criticism that I feel (or know) is shared by many other fans.

But first things first, let me start off by listing some of the things on yesterday’s stream that had me bouncing in my seat:

The new zone is absolutely stunning! There’s a lot of variety to it and it does look very pretty. Exploring it will undoubtedly be fun and a feast for my eyes.

Also, Fennorian will be there, so I know there will at least be one well-written character that my Vestige has an actual bond with.

The scribing system being more of a roleplay thing – I don’t know what some people were hoping for, but I’m glad it’s not some Big Damage For Those Who Are Good At Maths kind of system. It still allows for a more unique playstyle, and I suppose it’s going to turn out like always: Do whatever you want in open world spaces, but keep your bow backflip heal out of veteran content.

And maybe the biggest “Yes!” moment of the evening: Ed Stark being the zone lead for Gold Road. While I did not like High Isle as much (too predictable for my taste, but at least it had recurring characters), he was responsible for Greymoor and Murkmire as well. I thought Greymoor was fantastic (good quests, excellent new characters alongside very familiar recurring ones), and Murkmire… well, I think Murkmire suffers greatly from being “the DLC that came after the Daedric Triad” so to speak. It kind of fell into the void created by a storyline spanning a full year (or even more, if you count the setup for the whole thing, which really began with the Varen’s ghost and Darien’s letter in Wrothgar and the Gold Coast sweetroll killer quests). I think that’s why lots of people don’t seem to like Murkmire very much despite it having great storytelling. My point is this: I do have some hope that after the fiasco some recent DLCs were story-wise, Ed Stark will at least make sure Gold Road makes sense.

And now for the criticism.

Ithelia’s design (Whenever, wherever, I want to kill Hermaeus…)

… yeah, about that. As one of my friends put it, she looks like Shakira with wings.

They really could have done so much better. The way she is now, as @akaviri-dovah said, she really just looks like a Meridia clone who somehow stole Jyggalag’s crystals, which is funny on so many levels (more on that later). Suffice it to say that I personally think the design choices are kind of lazy, given that we already have an angelic-looking Daedric lady.

Also, what’s with this picture? This kinda makes it seem as if she originally looked. Um. A lil different from the way she is now. In any case, I’m just gonna call this a missed opportunity for something more unique. I do like the glass shard aesthetic, I just wish they’d taken it in a different direction.

Dragon Break Princess Ithelia, or something like that

Now I know Dragon Breaks have to work differently from what Ithelia does, but I am kind of wondering what the consequences of her fate-altering abilities are. How do you alter fate in a way that threatens reality (with reality consisting of past and present events, with all possible versions of the future being possibly-real until one actually happens) without altering the timeline? Just by removing a possible future? Then one could argue that any Daedra could do the same just by manipulating people. Granted, it’s possible that Ithelia sees all possible futures and can do whatever she likes with them, but even then, she’d only be influencing what can become reality, not what already is. So how can she be THAT dangerous?

Right now, it just seems to me that they needed an adversary for Hermaeus Mora, and since his big things are knowledge, secrets and fate, and they couldn’t very well make a Daedric Prince of Anti-Intellectualism or a Daedric Prince of Snitching, she had to be a fate-altering type of Daedra.

At this point I’m still wondering how she even works, because how does she not accidentally cause Dragon Breaks? And if she is that damn powerful, how on earth did Mora alone manage to pretty much remove any trace of her? Which kind of brings me to my next point.

Memory Issues

I know, I know, Ithelia is not the first “new” Daedric Prince. (Which makes her stolen Jyggalag crystal vibes rather funny if you ask me.) And I don’t mind her being crazy powerful either, because so was Jyggalag or else he wouldn’t have been cursed. But that, to my knowledge, required several other Princes, whereas Ithelia apparently got owned by Hermaeus Mora alone, who then erased all memory of her. Which is not only quite the feat given how powerful she has to be, but also a very weird thing for Hermaeus Mora to do. I kinda thought stealing memories was more Meridia’s style. This entire part does not quite make sense to me yet and seems a little out of character, but well. By the way, speaking of Meridia…

Meridia-baiting the players

At this point, ZOS have to know we’re getting tired of waiting for villain Meridia. Everyone I know who is even the least bit interested in ESO’s storyline wants to see it. And I’ve seen people get their hopes up in recent days (new Meridia/Dawnbreaker-themed music box, the Ayleid ruin hint on the fragments sent to streamers…). Even in the twitch chat, there were people hyped about what they thought was Meridia, and who were disappointed when they were told it was Ithelia. And yes, I am absolutely saying they did this and made her a Meridia lookalike on purpose. But I’m well aware that we haven’t gotten any new hints about either Meridia or a certain someone since Greymoor, and that chapter will be four years old soon. Even I am beginning to give up, as much as I hate to say it.

By the way, I really did NOT appreciate Matt Firor name-dropping Darien right at the beginning. If you’re not planning to do anything with him, just let it go. I know absolutely nobody who appreciates being fed very tiny hints for two years and then being left in the dark for four years straight. If you don’t want to pick that storyline up again, just stuff the man into the Old Life quest and be done with it.

Honestly, once again, I’m gonna say this is a MASSIVE missed opportunity right here. ESO’s 10 year anniversary is coming up, what could possibly be better than to go back to the roots now and reward all those loyal players with the story they are waiting for? I distinctly recall Molag Bal telling me to watch my step around Meridia, and the setup is all there. I’m honestly disappointed that there is no Meridia content at all. And this ties in with my final point, albeit vaguely.

“Recurring” characters

Ah, yes, we do love recurring characters. Sometimes. We do love it when a fan favorite comes back – a character who’s accompanied the Vestige over the course of an entire story arc or has made multiple appearances over the years and has become beloved by many players, and, most importantly, who is well-written, i.e. has a unique personality. And that’s why “recurring characters” is not always a recipe for success when it comes to getting people hooked on a story.

It is when it’s one of the five companions, or a Ravenwatch member, or your main alliance buddy (Raz, Naryu and – oh, wait, yeah, us Covenant babies don’t have one anymore). It also works when it’s a character we’ve run across several times already, like Alchemy, who I know tons of people love, or my favorite walking disaster Revus Demnevanni.

But it’s certainly not working when it’s a character we barely know anything about, and who isn’t a hit with the community. Like Eveli’s brother whom I had to google because I could not remember who he was. He’s from a prologue quest. Nothing more. That’s not a “beloved returning character”.

ZOS have several of those just lying around, and they’re just not using them. And even the base game had so many characters that were there over the course of several zones, that were well-written and at least memorable to the degree that people would recognize them with just a little reminder, like Indaenir or Holgunn and Walks-in-Ash or the Vanos siblings. Hell, we haven't seen good old Vanus Galerion in a while. They are ten years old now and deserve to be dragged to the surface again.

Okay, I’m done now!

This concludes my rant (because that’s what it is, I’m aware). I just want to say again that this is not be dragging ESO through the mud, this is just me pointing out that the devs (especially the writers) could do so much better if they listened to their lore nerds and story-interested players more.

#eso #gold road #ithelia #hermaeus mora #meridia #long post #tes #intya rambles #i am still very salty about the whole meridia situation #and the unfinished business we have with her #and I don't like players getting their hopes up for nothing

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ladamedusoif · 1 year

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Visiting - Chapter Two: Bright in the Sea

(moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Chapter Summary: Lydia continues to settle in at Barrow College, developing a closer friendship with Ben as well as other colleagues. Not everything is smooth sailing, however, and things come to a head at a staff team-building away day at a New England beach.

Word Count: 6.5k (??)

Rating: Mature; will become Explicit in later chapters.

Content (chapter specific): Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; strong language; thinly-veiled racism and discrimination; accent discrimination; "anti-woke" culture war nonsense from academics; not all historians, etc; alcohol consumption; discussion of anxiety and panic disorders as well as coping methods.

A/N: This chapter is part world-building, part "dealing with academic assholes", part meet more characters - all woven through the growing friendship between Lydia and Ben. I guess this is mostly fluff but kinda angsty at times? I did warn you it was a slow burn...

Much of this chapter is set around academic administrative and 'team-building' activities. Trust me when I say that these are the norm if you work in a contemporary university or college (and that I'm jealous of the Barrow people having a cute beach house for these events).

Also trust me when I say that the views and attitudes of K. Wright Lacroix are scarily common in academia on both sides of the Atlantic, and kicking against this is vital.

The title of this chapter is taken from the lyrics to Laura Veirs' song 'Cast a Hook in Me'.

I also listened to Lisa Hannigan's Sea Sew album while writing the last scene, and 'Sea Song' from that record feels very fitting for these two.

See the Series Masterlist for an outline of Lydia's story and background.

Further, short A/N right at the end to avoid any spoilers.

Taglist: @cutesyscreenname; @lunapascal; @fuckyeahdindjarin; @julesonrecord; @tieronecrush; @perennialdoll247; @vermillionwinter ; @iamskyereads ; @love-the-abyss; @tessa-quayle; @javierisms; @imaswellkid

The universal language of twenty-first century academia is, it seems, all-faculty meetings in airless lecture theatres, fuelled by terrible coffee and slightly stale cookies.

For you, though, attending your first proper meeting of the year at Barrow was a novelty, and the mid-September residual sunshine and warm temperatures (by your standards) meant that your new colleagues were in an upbeat mood.

Well, more or less.

“Are you ready for your first mandatory death by a thousand statistics? Fuuuuuck me, I hate this shit.”

Ani Sen stands at your office door, hip cocked, dark curls piled on top of their head to show off their freshly trimmed, back to school undercut, and impossibly funky, bright green glasses dangling from one hand.

“It can’t be as bad as an all-staff briefing I once had,” you suggest, scooping up your notebook, pen, and iPad and popping them into a tote bag. “Twenty minutes with the head of department and every slide had an animated graph, pie chart, or word art on it. I felt nauseous.”

Ani grimaces. “Okay, that does sound fucking awful. But where we lack in pointless animations, we make up for in tedium. And dick-swinging.”

The first time you met Ani, a fellow art historian and specialist in contemporary art, you’d been in awe of how cool they were. Mid-40s, smart, stylish, and highly accomplished, Ani’s coolness was positively glacial. They were also sweet, kind, and incredibly funny, their brand of sardonic (and sweary) humour chiming perfectly with your own.

Ani’s best friend in the faculty was Evan Rhys, a colleague of Ben’s in the literature department. Where Ani was dry and sardonic, Evan was bright and effervescent. He was about 40, tall and rangy, piercings dangling from one ear, and a perpetual spark of colour in the faculty corridors. When you first met him, Evan was sporting a shock of bright orange hair and a lurid green slash-necked jersey shirt, paired with white jeans and a pair of Converse exactly the same colour as his hair.

He was, perhaps unsurprisingly, a huge student favourite. Rather more surprisingly, for a college professor entering middle age, he also had an Instagram following in the tens of thousands. (Ani was completely at a loss as to why he was so popular. “It’s just photos of him in those fucking outfits!”, they whined. “Maybe it’s because he matches them to his hair.”)

Between them, Ani and Evan had wasted no time in ensuring that you were invited for lunches, coffees, and introductions to the colleagues they thought you’d like to meet. Or, as Ani put it, “I’m gonna make sure you meet the non-fuckwits first.”

There was no shortage of fuckwits, apparently. Ani had drawn up a masterlist - “in case I’ve forgotten someone is, or has been known to be, a dick.” You had scanned it casually, feeling an unexpected surge of relief when you note that Ben Morales’ name is absent.

You knew deep down that he wasn’t a fuckwit, though lord knows what he thought of you. But you had had one day to get the measure of the man - Ani had been working here, alongside him, for several years.

“I met Ben Morales on my first day,” you mentioned, trying to sound casual. “He was tasked with doing the welcome for me. Seemed really nice, actually.”

Ani closed their eyes and makes a sort of “awwwwwh!” noise, as if they’d just seen a red panda or a sea otter or some other furry creature of equivalent cuteness.

“Oh, definitely not a fuckwit. Me and Evan have coffee with him or sometimes go out with a bigger group to Murphy’s - that’s the one bar that even students usually steer clear of. Ben’s the anti-fuckwit, actually, in every sense. Just an all-round good guy.” They raised an eyebrow. “Total fucking dork, though.”

Total dork or not, Ben had continued to take his welcome duties seriously. A couple of days after your welcome meeting, he’d met you in the staff lounge yawning at the filter coffee machine while it brewed up a fresh pot.

“Are we running you ragged already?”

You turned, smiling when you realised who it was. “I swear to god, I get the worst slumps around 4pm. Trying to get ahead of this one.”

He nodded sympathetically and brandished his blue mug. “Why do you think I’m here?”

The next day, around the same time, you were about to get up from your desk in search of coffee when you noticed a familiar silhouette in the glass panel of your office door: Ben, bearing two cups of coffee (one black, one with creamer).

“I hope you don’t mind? I was getting some for myself and remembered what you said about your 4pm slump, so…”

You beckoned him into the office and to a spare seat, gladly accepting the cup and placing it on your desk. “I’m so grateful. Coffee to your door? Come on, that’s the dream.” You rummaged in your tote bag, producing a small box of cookies and shaking them in his direction. “Unfortunately these are all I can offer by way of a thank you.”

It had only been a couple of weeks since you started at Barrow, but in that time the coffee call had developed into a bit of a habit on days where you were both around in the afternoons. He’d claimed that the companionable chatting that accompanied the coffee was just to see how you were getting on and make sure you had everything you needed, but you suspected that he really just liked having someone to talk about books or movies and swap silly stories with.

And you like it, too, especially when you manage to make him laugh so hard he has to take his glasses off to wipe his eyes. You’d bonded with some of your closest work friends (of all genders) at home in a similar way. It felt easy and natural with Ben from the start, and - with Ani and Evan - you were glad to have found such welcoming people so soon.

There was no sign of him at the all-staff event, though. You slip into a row of fold-down seats alongside Ani and Evan, who’s nursing the biggest iced coffee you’ve ever seen.

“Have you prepared her?” he asks Ani, who’s retrieving a pen and notebook from their bag.

“I have. From what she’s said, this is a universal experience. She’ll be fine. Right Lydia?”

He swigs some coffee, ice cubes clattering inside the enormous plastic goblet. “Not every college has a Professor Lacroix, though”, he muses, ominously.

You are about to ask who Professor Lacroix is when you feel a brush of fabric on your right arm and detect a familiar scent: clean soap, paper, bergamot, slightly spicy cologne, and with the addition, now, of coffee.

“Okay if I sit here?” Ben is gesturing to the empty seat beside you, at the end of the row. He’s a little more formally dressed than usual: black jeans, checked shirt, and a dark red tie. Somehow he’s managing to carry a cup of coffee, his glasses, and a folder all at once, and an old conference tote bag is slung over his shoulder.

“Of course!” you nod, moving your things over to clear space. He sits down and puts on his glasses before turning to you with a smile.

“Benjamin,” Evan says, nodding and raising his enormous iced coffee in Ben’s direction. Ben reciprocates the gesture, nodding with exaggerated ceremony. Evan’s gaze shifts to focus on Ben’s tie.

“Um. Benjamin. Are those…giraffes?”

You turn to look a little closer. Sure enough, Ben’s tie features a pattern of tiny giraffes, woven into the silk fabric. He looks down and lifts up the tie.

“My brother’s kids got it for me at the San Diego Zoo,” he explains. “I promised them I’d wear it for the first talk I had to give this year.”

Evan remains sceptical, sipping on his coffee as if the tie has personally offended him. You are about to tell Ben about your eldest niece’s love of giraffes when Professor Jennifer (Jen to most, Jenny to very few) Arden walks up to the end of your row.

Jen is head of the literature department at Barrow and a formidable figure in the world of gender studies, with a publication record as long as her arm. She is petite and fine-boned, her dark bob neatly slicked down, and she always looks perfect: beautifully tailored palazzo pants, gorgeous silk blouses, and a collection of statement necklaces that you covet greatly. She’s incredibly smart, deeply charismatic and very no nonsense, but has been extremely kind and welcoming thus far, embodying the perfect blend of “do no harm, take no shit” that a role like hers requires.

She’s also close to Ben, having joined the department around the same time. One day over lunch, Ani had mentioned to you that there’d even been a student rumour about them being secretly married. “Someone in one of my classes once claimed - no, swore blind - to have met them grocery shopping in town with their kids. Their KIDS!!” Ani laughed so hard the tears ran down their face. “Her wife is a goddamn paediatric surgeon for crying out loud, and a gorgeous one at that! I mean, no offence to Ben but if they saw Rachel they’d realise how wrong they were, because she’s incredible.”

Jen checks in ahead of the staff briefing, making sure you’re okay with being introduced to the entire faculty (do you really have a choice?) and confirming that Ben’s ready for his presentation.

“It’s going to be great, promise. It’s vital work.” She pats Ben’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance.

Ben looks up at her, his expression uncertain. “And if there’s a backlash…?”

Jen raises an eyebrow. “Then we deal with it. Don’t let the bastards grind us down.”

When she's returned to the central podium you ask Ben about the presentation, wondering why he’s preparing for a negative reaction. This sort of trepidation was normally only seen when someone was about to announce a faculty restructure or cuts.

“It’s the next stage in the diversity and inclusivity initiative we’ve been working on,” he explains, opening his folder to retrieve some of the documents. “It’s a team effort - I’m just the person who reports back on the committee’s plans. Unfortunately, some colleagues aren’t quite so keen and -“

He’s interrupted by the loud voice of Professor Andrew Whitney, faculty dean, calling for attention as the meeting gets under way. “I’ll explain later,” Ben whispers, dark eyes serious behind his glasses, “but…well. You’ll see.”

Professor Whitney introduces you about halfway through the meeting. “…who will be with us for the entire academic year, working in Art History. Lydia?” He scans the lecture theatre. “Perhaps you could introduce yourself more fully, tell us about your expertise and plans for the year?”

Panic rises in your chest. Public speaking is literally part of your job, but something about the rows of expectant faces makes you want to sprint up the steps of the hall and run.

A gentle nudge from your right. “I think that’s your cue. You got this, don’t worry.”

You nod appreciatively at Ben as you get to your feet, introducing yourself and explaining your research interests. “So, uh, yeah. I’m really excited to be here, and thank you all for being so welcoming so far.”

You sit back down as quickly as possible, heat rising in your face. Jen stands up at the podium and leans into the main microphone. “A reminder too that, as is traditional, Lydia has two elective modules open to students on any major/minor combo in the faculty, so please do encourage your students to sign up! Lydia, would you like to tell us what these are?”

You stand up again. “Um, semester one is a course on unpacking the gaze in visual culture, focusing on the female gaze and queering the gaze; semester two is focused on readings in radical theory and applying this to visual culture studies. All welcome! No prior knowledge required!”

Jen grins at you from the podium and lightly applauds. You suddenly become conscious of a theatrically loud tut-tutting coming from the other side of the lecture theatre, where a pale man with sandy-coloured hair and dressed in a navy blazer, chinos, striped shirt and bow tie is staring directly and disapprovingly at you.

Evan leans over. “That’s Professor Lacroix. I think you’re his worst nightmare. Apart from Ani. And me. And probably Ben, after this.” He gestures towards the podium.

Ben is standing at the rostrum, loading up his PowerPoint presentation. He seems a little nervous, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and occasionally fiddling with his tie.

When he glances around the hall and meets your eye, you can’t help but give him a little thumbs up, mouthing “you got this!” in a reciprocal act of reassurance. He half-smiles, and starts the presentation.

He’s a natural: convincing and engaging, every detail meticulously prepared and evidenced. The project, it transpires, focuses on making Barrow - historically associated with providing a liberal arts education for the “elite” (translation: rich white people) - more inclusive and diverse through a range of admission schemes, scholarships and grants, and ongoing support.

You can see why Ben is the committee’s spokesperson. His passion for the project is plain to see as he outlines the supports being introduced - monitoring progress for students who’ve entered through the new schemes, offering extra, free support services and guidance to help them throughout their degrees, and so on.

“A liberal arts education is for everyone,” he says, “A college like Barrow is for everyone. We’ve started to make this a reality, and this year - with your help - we’ll ensure every student gets the support they need.”

Applause ripples through the theatre - except from the po-faced Professor Lacroix, who exhales, rolls his eyes, and does the most half-hearted attempt at clapping imaginable.

Ani leans in to you as Ben walks back up to his seat. “Lacroix is Fuckwit Numero Uno. King Fuckwit. The Fuckwit Tzar.”

Sure enough, when you look back over in his direction you notice that Lacroix has his hand up. Andrew Whitney calls on him to ask his question, and you swear you can hear everyone around you doing a sharp intake of breath.

“Professor Whitney,” Lacroix drawls in a bizarre mid-Atlantic accent, “I suspect you know what I am about to ask. But I must once again express my concerns about the direction of travel in this faculty.” To your horror, you notice a handful of his colleagues in history nodding appreciatively.

“Fuuuuuuck offffffffff”, Ani mutters under their breath. You steal a glance at Ben, whose usually open and friendly face has fallen into a scowl, jaw ticking as if he’s biting his tongue for fear of what he might say.

Lacroix turns in your direction, and gestures to himself. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m K. Wright Lacroix, Professor of American History.”

“The K stands for Kevin,” Ben whispers in your ear. “Or Kunt”, Evan adds, draining his iced coffee and forcing Ani to suppress a giggle.

Lacroix isn’t that old. Hell, he might be younger than you, but he’s got that countenance of someone who came out of the womb clutching a copy of the National Review. He continues speaking, now addressing the entire hall.

“Over the last couple of years this college has drifted in a dangerous direction,” he pronounces, as if addressing a rally. “We have had the incursion of critical race theory, gender ideology, and now we have our visiting professor offering radical theory to our students. Meanwhile, traditional subjects and approaches - the bedrock of the liberal arts education! - are forgotten.”

You want the ground to open up and swallow you. This isn’t the first time you’ve had this shit thrown at you. It won’t be the last. But the tacit acquiescence to this guy’s bullshit is mortifying.

Ben is clutching a pen in his right hand, long fingers gripping it like he’s afraid to let go.

“And of course, we have just heard the latest from Professor Morales and his comrades - pardon me, committee - in their efforts to kill off the grand Barrow tradition of high standards and academic excellence. And I ask once again - where will it end? Who will we ‘cancel’ this year?”

There’s something about the way he pronounces Ben’s surname - technically correct, if one was speaking Spanish, but with an extremely exaggerated accent intended to reiterate its “foreignness” - that makes you feel sick. Coupled with his use of “comrades”, the implication is clear. You’re appalled and surprised. This sort of thing would result in immediate action if it happened in your institution. Wouldn’t it?

The seats in the lecture theatre are close together, and as a result you can actually feel Ben’s entire body tense up. Ani is throwing their hands up in exasperation.

“Can we move on? This isn’t adding anything to the meeting, for crying out loud!”

Professor Whitney waves his hand in a call for calm. Jen Arden is rolling her eyes and shooting daggers at K. Wright Lacroix.

“Thank you, Professor Lacroix. As ever, your comments will be noted.” Professor Whitney looks at his watch. “I think that’s us done. A reminder: the annual away day is on Saturday, at the Barrow beach house! A wonderful opportunity for some team building and lobster rolls, as always!”

In your experience, an “away day” literally meant going to another room on campus to eat terrible buffet food while doing team exercises and focus groups. There was no “away” involved. It comes as a surprise, then, when the reaction to Professor Whitney’s announcement from the room is decidedly muted.

“Why does no one seem to like a beach away day?” you ask Ani as you pack up your things.

“Because they expect us to attend at weekends, because the actual beach time involves stupid shit like scavenger hunts or building a raft, because Andrew fucking Whitney thinks that’s how you build collegiality and interdisciplinary working,” they hiss. “Plus, it’s cheap - the college owns the property so they don’t have to pay venue hire.”

You turn to ask Ben if it’s really as bad as all that, but he’s already gone.

You swing by the college canteen, in search of some sustenance to bring back to the desk. Evan is still fuming from the briefing.

“Fucking historians I swear to fuck!” he hisses, assessing the selection of sandwiches on offer.

“I mean, they’re not all like that guy,” you offer, trying to defuse the tension. You’re still smarting, too - not so much from the stuff Lacroix had directed at you, as the casual racism and classism in his comments about the diversity initiatives. About Ben.

Evan exhales and reaches for a hummus and roasted vegetable wrap. “I know. Some of my best friends are historians, as they say. It’s just Lacroix. He gives them a bad name. And he’s always had it in for anyone who isn’t a cishet WASPy fucker.”

“Why doesn’t anyone do anything? I mean, he’s clearly guilty of implicit discrimination, at a minimum.”

Evan rolls his eyes. “First, he’s a bit of a nepo baby. Family of academics. Well connected, especially to the head of the college. Well off. So the college leadership doesn't really bother pursuing it when the issues are raised.”

He fills a paper cup of filter coffee for himself. “Secondly, the Barrow way is that colleagues - as in, permanent employees of the college - aren’t allowed to directly confront colleagues unless it’s specific to a class. There’s a process involving filling out forms. Supposed to stop confrontation and tensions, apparently.”

“What the fuck??”

“I know. It’s toxic.”

You fill a coffee cup for yourself, add creamer, then pour another. Black, this time. You pick up two donuts: one glazed, one powdered sugar. You walk with Evan as far as his office and then continue along the corridor.

You can see him through the glass panel in his office door, sitting at his desk. He appears to be reading something on his computer screen while absentmindedly playing with a little bobblehead figurine on his desk, lightly tapping its head so it wobbles back and forth.

You knock gently, holding up the coffee expectantly when Ben looks up. He nods, beckoning you in.

“This is very kind. Thank you.” He looks deflated. He takes off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose, and exhales.

“I’ll leave you be. I just thought you might appreciate the coffee -”

Ben shakes his head, gesturing for you to sit down. “No, no. Just a bit of a headache. I probably need caffeine. Stay. Please stay?”

You sit down in the chair facing his desk, opening the bag of donuts. “Glazed or powdered sugar?”

His eyes widen and his mouth forms a little “o” shape. “Ooh. I think I’ll go with powdered sugar.” He smiles as you hand him the donut on a serviette.

Ben’s office is, well, very him, inasmuch as you know what “him” is after a couple of weeks : a substantial desk with an anglepoise lamp stands in front of the tall windows, covered in piles of papers and books; a mid-century armchair sits in one corner with a low table beside it and a floor lamp behind, also stacked with books; and there’s a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, all heaving with texts of various shapes and sizes (and in several languages, you’d noticed). Family photos and framed prints are dotted here and there, and you’ve been meaning to ask him about some of the trinkets that you can see on some of the shelves.

“I was really impressed by what you said today about the diversity and inclusion initiative, you know,” you say, sipping your coffee. “It’s such important work, and the plans are great. Like Jen said, it’s vital.”

He shrugs and chews thoughtfully on his donut, powdered sugar lightly dusting his moustache. “You saw what I meant about some colleagues not being keen.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I know I've only been here a few weeks, and it may not be my place to say it, but… that guy’s just one asshole. One asshole on the wrong side of history, ironically for a historian. And he shouldn’t be allowed to treat colleagues like that. Especially not the way he…well, how he referred to you.”

Ben sighs, resigned. “It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last. It’s not that simple here, unfortunately. There’s a rule -”

“Evan mentioned it to me. And - again, might be speaking out of turn - in this case it’s fucking stupid. Anyway, more importantly - the scheme sounds fantastic, and I’d be glad to talk over some of the equivalent stuff we do at my place sometime. Maybe share some best practice and swap ideas?”

Ben tilts his head and smiles. “I’d like that.”

You scrunch up the paper bag. “Before I go, I’ve got two questions.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Go on.”

“One. Is the beach away day really that bad, and what’s the dress code? Because I’m not sure I want to do bathing suit chic in front of the entire faculty.”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s not that bad. Just be prepared to help academics who’ve never as much as changed a lightbulb complete a scavenger hunt or assemble a raft from a selection of junk. And shorts are about as far as anyone goes. Thankfully.”

You feign wiping sweat from your brow. “Phew. Okay, question two. Can I see who that bobble head is?”

He turns the figurine around. “It’s our old pal Indy. I know you’ve probably never seen a professor with a bobble head in their office before. Please don’t judge me.”

“Judge you?!” Your grin is wide and genuine. “Just wait until you see my historical figures Playmobil collection. I love this! He’s got a PhD and everything. Didn’t you say he’d given you a misleading expectation of what it would be like to be an academic, though?”

He smiles at the figure, sending Indy’s head bobbing in its Panama hat. “I did. Not so much the fighting Nazis thing. More so that he never had to do any admin. And that he could climb out of his office to escape students.”

“That said… some might argue that you’re fighting oppressive and would-be dictatorial individuals, just at work rather than in the field? Wait - I didn’t say that. You never heard anything.” You mime locking your mouth and throwing away the key.

Ben gasps before collapsing in a fit of laughter. “Holy shit, Lydia, you’re the only one who could get away with that.” He rests his hands on the desk and tries to recover his composure. “Fuck. I really needed a laugh.”

You nod your head as you open the door to leave. “At your service.”

“Has everyone found their teams and their colour-coded sticker?”

Andrew Whitney is trying to corral an entire faculty’s worth of humanities academics into five teams for his grand team-building exercise - as Ani predicted, this year it involves building a raft. To promote interdisciplinary communication (per Professor Whitney’s introductory talk, delivered that morning), the teams are mixed, with people from various departments working together. To your relief, K. Wright Lacroix is on a different team, one primarily made up of other historians. Ben is on a team with Evan, and you and Ani are working together with a mixed group of musicologists and literature colleagues.

Though most of your colleagues remain cynical - Evan, for example, is wearing huge sunglasses, an enormous black hoodie emblazoned with the word NOPE, and a brightly-patterned pair of board shorts - you’re enjoying the relatively warm mid-September weather, stiff ocean breeze notwithstanding, and appreciating the novelty of seeing the New England coastline. Not having banked on a professional visit to the beach so soon, you’ve rustled up your most beach-appropriate and practical attire from your limited wardrobe: a pair of dark green cropped linen culottes and a long-sleeved Breton striped top, with a trusty pair of vintage-style leather sandals.

Ani stamps their Teva-clad feet on the sand and pulls up the hood on their tie-dye oversized sweatshirt, wrapping their arms around themselves to warm up. “You know the drill, right? We just have to make something that’s going to stay afloat for like, a minute.”

You nod. “And we can use the pile of beach trash in the middle as our source for components, and the aim is to work together to decide on a design and execute it. Is there a prize?”

Ani looks at you with a pitying glare. “Two guesses, girl. I’m motivated by spite. I just wanna beat the shit out of fucking Master and Commander over there.” They flick their head towards Lacroix and the historians, who seem to be assessing wind speed and direction by holding up fingers and tossing paper handkerchiefs into the air.

The building process is less an example of teamwork and more a sociological case study in group project dynamics, where one or two people take the lead and do most of the work while the rest kick back. Ani’s desperation to triumph over Kevin Lacroix and his crew has them going hell for leather in designing a simple but lightweight structure, dispatching you to gather plastic bottles and twine for the other team members to bind together.

You wander over to see how Evan and Ben are getting on. Evan is literally motionless, sitting in a lotus position on the sand with his hood up and shades on. Ben, clad in a pair of dark red shorts, a navy zip-up hoodie, and a grey, well-worn Wilco Yankee Hotel Foxtrot T-shirt, is constructing a mast and sail of some sort from a long twig and an empty plastic bag. The ocean breeze has left his hair a tousled mess and he appears to be squinting against the glare despite wearing his sunglasses, but he looks like he’s in his element.

He notices you and waves, and you move a little closer. Your culottes flap against your legs in the wind, and you have to rest a hand on your brow to shield the sun enough to see him properly.

“I think you’re enjoying this, Professor Morales.”

Ben stands up, leaning forward to brush the sand from his knees and thighs. The gesture draws your attention, unconsciously, to the strong, lean muscles of his legs.

Your brain immediately remembers, unbidden, that he cycles to work.

He shrugs but his smile says it all. “Transferable skills!” he admits. “Building Lego taught me everything I know.”

A roar from Ani jolts you. “Lydia get your ass over here we have like ten minutes I swear to fuck!”

“They want to beat Lacroix,” you explain. Ben lowers his sunglasses and looks at you conspiratorially.

“Who doesn’t?”

And then he winks at you.

Ani is a pretty good raft-builder when they’re out for blood. Your team's haphazard construction bobs around in the surf while its captain whoops and cheers it on from the shore. The musicologists have long absconded to the beach house, hoping to steal an early march on the lobster rolls, so it’s just you, Ani, and a couple of the literature people left to witness the triumph of the SS Fork This Shirt.

“I thought you hated this stuff?” you ask Ani while they jump up and down in the sand.

“I love it when I’m winning and Fuckwit Tzar over there is not.” They gesture to where Lacroix is hastily trying to fix the mast on the overly elaborate ship his team had constructed out of an old plastic barrel. “Hey, historians!" Ani roars. "Oceans are battlefieeeeeeelds!”

Lacroix’s raft is the only one not to successfully set sail, which makes Ani even happier. Evan embraces them in a hug as you all stroll up to the beach house for the long-awaited lobster rolls.

The beach house, which was left to the college by a former professor, is an early twentieth-century building with shiplap cladding painted a pale blue with white accents, accessed from the beach via a white wooden staircase. Two white Adirondack chairs sit in a small garden facing the ocean, perfectly placed to admire the view.

You fall into step with Jen Arden and Ben as you join the rest of your colleagues inside. You’re all ready to dive in for a lobster roll when Andrew Whitney puts himself between you and the food. Never a wise move, but this is technically the boss, after all.

“So tell me, Lydia, are you settling in okay? What made you want to come to us for the year?”

You have your responses down pat. Professor Whitney seems impressed enough, moving on to ask about your plans for your elective classes.

You’re in the middle of explaining the concept of “queering the gaze” when a familiar but unwelcome face appears alongside the faculty dean. K. Wright Lacroix sips his white wine as he tries to insert himself into the conversation, and you feel deeply uncomfortable.

The next time there’s a natural lull, he pounces.

“I’m not here to critique your ideology this time, my dear. I am here to offer some friendly, constructive advice. Your accent, it's…difficult to follow. Impenetrable, at times. You speak very quickly, you know, and not all of us are used to having colleagues or tutors with an accent.”

You silently try to draw on some of the grounding techniques you’d learned for anxiety, willing yourself to stay calm.

“Technically, everyone’s got an accent,” you say quietly.

He understood that, alright. “Be that as it may - think about your new surroundings.” He speaks to you as if you are from another planet. “Speak more slooooowly. Enunciate. Yes?”

Your eyes are starting to prickle with tears but fury is rising in your chest. Fuckwit Numero Uno, indeed.

“There’s nothing wrong with how Lydia speaks, Kevin.” Ben, behind you, has overheard the last part of the conversation. “No one else has trouble understanding. Do you, Andrew?”

Professor Whitney is flustered, eyes darting between the three of you. “I…do not.”

Kevin Lacroix looks like he’s sucking a lemon. “Another bit of friendly advice, Lydia.” He flicks a glance at Ben before returning to stare at you. “Choose your friends here carefully. Though, admittedly, it looks like Morales here has already won you over.”

That fucking exaggerated pronunciation, again.

The red mist descends.

“Oh, okay. Enough. There you go again. I know your colleagues can’t say this - but I can. I’m not a permanent colleague, am I?” You’re trying not to raise your voice, but it’s taking every ounce of self-control you have not to let this creep have it.

Lacroix looks startled, clearly unused to someone letting rip.

“I don’t know exactly what your problem is, but I can take a pretty good guess. And if this is the stuff you throw out in public about someone like Ben - I mean, about Professor Morales - then I can only imagine what you say in private about your colleagues. And it’s disgraceful. No wonder you can’t abide the work being done to make this a more diverse and inclusive institution.”

You do not notice that the hum of conversation in the rest of the room has died down, as your colleagues turn their ears and eyes towards you.

“I genuinely don’t care if you think I speak quickly or not, but I do care that I’m about to spend a year in a working environment where someone can undermine their colleagues on the basis of their ethnicity or identity or gender or their first language or even just what they teach. That is not the image this college should want going out into the world.” You glance over at Andrew Whitney, who shifts uncomfortably.

“I don’t need your advice on how I speak, Professor Lacroix, and I certainly don’t need your advice on choosing friends. I think I’ve done pretty well so far on that front, you know?”

It’s only when you turn to meet Ben’s gaze that you realise everyone has been watching and listening to you tearing strips off K. Wright Lacroix. There’s a note of concern in Ben’s eyes, and when you look for Ani you see them mouth the words “Fuck, Lyd”.

You fucked up. This isn’t how they do things. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Fuck.

“Um, Professor Whitney? I will follow the official complaints procedure, just to keep everything above board, and…yeah. Excuse me.”

You walk as quickly as you can out of the house, settling on one of the wooden chairs out front as you try to quell the panic starting to grip your whole body.

Deep breaths, and the sound of the sea. Eyes closed, you concentrate on your breathing and on the waves lapping at the shore.

“Hey.”

Ben is standing beside you, a plate with a lobster roll in one hand and a glass of what looks like lemonade in the other. “I don’t think you managed to get a lobster roll in there, did you?”

You shake your head, and he hands you the food and drink, tilting his head as if he’s trying to read your mood.

“I wouldn’t mind some company, if you’d like?” You gesture to the other chair, placed just to the right of yours. He does that little half-smile of his and sits down, looking out to sea as you tuck into your food.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck me!”

Ben turns, startled. You swallow the bite of your lobster roll.

“M’sorry. It’s just so good. I didn’t realise how hungry I was. Or hangry, maybe.”

“You didn’t have to say that, you know? Inside.” He looks back out towards the Atlantic, brow slightly furrowed.

“I’m really sorry, Ben. I just…me and my big mouth. I am so sorry if I’ve caused trouble for you, and - fuck. Not even been here a month and I’m a troublemaker. Typical.”

“You’re not a troublemaker, Lydia. I meant that you didn’t have to feel it was on you to take Lacroix to task like that.” He turns slightly towards you and a smile creeps over his face. “But I’m kind of glad you did. Dropping that ‘international reputation’ thing with Andrew Whitney there? Fuck, Lyd. It was…pretty badass.”

“I just hate that fucking gatekeeping shit from people like…him. It’s hard enough making it in this job without connections and family prestige or whatever he’s got.” You shrug. “And anyway, you stuck up for me and my accent, too.”

He hums thoughtfully as he watches the surf breaking on the sand. “It’s what friends do, isn’t it?”

You study his profile for a moment. The art historian in you is somewhat tickled by its near-classical proportions, noting the strong curve of his aquiline nose. You’d never noticed the little heart-shaped patch of bare skin in his beard before, either.

“It’s really beautiful here, isn’t it?” you say quietly, turning your gaze back to the water. “Maybe they’ll let me just move out here for the duration of the visiting role, keep me in lobster rolls all year.”

He chuckles. “It is beautiful. It’s nice to have the ocean relatively close. And hey, if you do stay here and need help eating the lobster rolls, well…”

A crunch on the gravel of the front yard interrupts the conversation. Ani has come to find the two of you.

“They’re loading us back on the buses to campus now, dudes. You okay, Lyd?”

You pop the last of the lobster roll into your mouth and give them a thumbs up.

“More than okay. Apparently, I’m a badass now.”

This time, you wink at him.

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

Further A/N: Kevin Lacroix's comments to Lydia about how she speaks and her 'having an accent' are, believe it or not, based on actual stuff that was said to me by a colleague at a conference in the US.

Reminder: everyone has an accent.

Thanks, as ever, to the Visiting headcanons and sounding board: @cutesyscreenname, @julesonrecord, @lunapascal, @imaswellkid

#visiting fic #visiting masterlist #mr ben snl #professor ben x OFC #mr ben #pedro pascal character fanfic #mr ben x ofc #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #Spotify

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darael · 1 year

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Hello hello! I saw you said something about Toki Pona being built on a poisonous philosophy and I was wondering if you could explain what you mean? You don't have to of course but I don't know anything about Toki Pona and the tag caught my interest. Have a nice day!

Okay so some context, both for you since you say you don't know anything about it and for my followers:

Toki Pona is a constructed language. It was originally designed to have a grand total of 120 words, and while the current word-count depends how you count them and who you ask, it's still below 150, the most common count of "essential" ones being 137. The creator, Sonja Lang, describes it as "an attempt to understand the meaning of life in 120 words".

As you can probably imagine, having only 137 words means each word has to do a lot of work — has to carry a lot of possible meanings. There are only five colour words (black, white, red, yellow, and bluegreen). There are only five number words (none/zero, one, two, many, all/infinite/manymany), and some of them also carry meanings that in English are not numbers (for example, the word for none or zero is also the word for not, and the word for all is also the word for life). One word means all kinds of grains, and also bread. You get the idea. This is, explicitly, not ambiguity but a declaration that each of these words represents a single underlying concept that can be translated into English in multiple ways. It's a claim that "life" and "everything" and "all of them" are in some way the same concept, and therefore get one word. Put a pin in that; we'll come back to it later.

Unfortunately, the underlying philosophy of Toki Pona is, as the word-count might suggest, minimalism. Minimalism as an ideology for life already had some serious issues in my book, notably in that the common version of it that leads to empty white rooms with one or two objects as "accents" is classist as all get out. It also encourages disposability culture, which ties into that — to live a "minimalist" life in that sense you have to (for example) not keep a jar of pens on your desk, because you can buy a disposable one when you need it so you shouldn't clutter your space with them when you don't. But that's just an association, not what can be poisonous about Toki Pona.

The name "Toki Pona" literally translates to "the language of good", but also "simple speech". The word "pona" represents all facets of goodness and simplicity. In Toki Pona, "simple" and "good" and indeed "useful" and "peace" are the same concept. "Okay," you might ask, "what's so bad about that?" I'll tell you what's so bad about it: in the same way, their antitheses are declared to be the same concept. Complexity (and all the shades of meaning it can give the world, all the understanding we can derive from it) is declared to be ontologically not just bad, but the same thing as badness. Specifically, that word — "ike" — is defined in the translation dictionary as "bad, negative; non-essential, irrelevant".

This attitude, in my experience, results in Toki Pona enthusiasts being very convinced that Toki Pona is inherently correct, and that anything that's difficult to express in that language wasn't worth expressing anyway. It's a combination of intellectual elitism with anti-intellectualism. The former manifests as an attitude that anyone who can't express what they want to say in a way the Toki Pona speaker deems "simple" (usually meaning "easily translated to Toki Pona") is somehow inadequate, and the latter as the idea that any concept not easily translated must not be worth dealing with.

This was kinda rambly but I hope it gave you a general idea of why, while I find it interesting as an experiment and an intellectual exercise, I despise Toki Pona as a philosophy.

#toki pona #anti toki pona #I know it's not customary to tag both 'X' and 'anti X' on Tumblr but I really don't know how else to categorise this #philosophy #artlang #conlang #I didn't even get into the way some people suggest it's an international language even though quite a few 'official' translations rely on #specifically-English idiomata

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saintmeghanmarkle · 2 months

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Social relevance: Sussexes vs Windsors by u/Mickleborough

Social relevance: Sussexes vs Windsors Went down a rabbit hole which referred to the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, which made me wonder who were the greater social outcasts: Sussexes or Windsors? for my impression of the Windsors was that they lived off what friends, acquaintances, and social climbers would have them.The exit dates are:- Edward VIII abdicated on 10 December 1936, aged 42;- Megxit took place on 31 March 2020.One Moment in TimeOnce the dust from World War II had settled, some truly extravagant balls - seemingly all (justifiably, from all accounts) called the party of the century - were thrown by the very rich for the elite: other rich people, actors, intellectuals, royalty.The Windsors were invited to all of the parties of the century, apart from one:- Le Bal Oriental, the first great ball after WW2 and dubbed The Party of the Century, thrown in 1951 by Count Carlos de Beistegui at his home in Venice, the Palazzo Labia (Windsors were no show)- The Black and White Ball, a masquerade (men in black tie and black mask, women in black or white, white mask), given by the writer Truman Capote at the Plaza Hotel in New York, in 1966 (Windsors again were a no show) - see Vanity Fair article for some idea of the fuss: archived / unarchived- The Proust Ball, held by Baron and Baroness Guy de Rothschild in 1971, at their hunting estate outside Paris, the Château de Ferrières - so the Windsors were relevant even after 35 years.(The Rothschilds topped the Proust Ball with their Surrealist Ball in 1972, to which the Windsors seemingly hadn’t been invited - then again, the Duke of Windsor had died about 7 months earlier.)When You BelieveWorking royalty’s always at the top of the society tree, even in these republican (ie anti-monarchist) days - there simply aren’t that many of them, so they have curiosity value.So Harry’s position is clear. Meghan probably believes that she belongs to the upper echelons because she’s (cough) beautiful, (cough) intelligent, (cough) charming, and can dispense platitudes, I mean sage advice, that’ll revolutionise society.So to what equivalent function have they been invited? All I can think of is the Salute to Freedom Gala in November 2021.Best leg forward, Meghan! Fabulous A Chorus Line legwork precision with Harry.Every other function’s been a bought awards ceremony or connected with Invictus (requiring no evening wear).Didn’t We Almost Have It AllThe Sussexes believed that, following Megxit, they’d be courted and fêted. Because people would be clamouring to have them, they felt compelled to make it clear with whom they’d mingle: Express archived / unarchived.To be fair, times have changed, and grand private balls no longer are given. The equivalent, I suppose, would be fundraisers, the ones where you dress up and fling on jewels. But the Sussexes have neither bought tables, nor been invited. Before every first Monday in May, we’re entertained by the reasons why Meghan won’t be attending the invitation-only fundraiser Met Gala - it started off with them having no time for such frivolity, and now revolves around concerns for their security (Mirror archived / unarchived).I Have NothingThat’s going to be the case if American River Orchil doesn’t produce anything. And by ‘nothing’, I mean reputation.EDIT: It was a Truman Capote vs The Swans rabbit hole. I can recommend the non-fiction Swan Song by Kelleigh Jephcott-Greenberg. post link: https://ift.tt/a4Dk8Lc author: Mickleborough submitted: April 01, 2024 at 10:23PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

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ajoytobeheld · 7 months

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In the wake of last night's European parliamentary election results...

June 9th, 2009

In the past fortnight I have on numerous occasions drafted and deleted blog posts about what was the forthcoming European Election. About why it was important for people to vote and to stop the BNP. Every time I came close to posting the message, I stopped myself, reminded of how embarassing it often (always?) is when people in bands concern themselves with politics, and attempt to push their views onto other people.

But today, after a number of my countrymen have deigned to elect two BNP politicians to the European Parliament, and even more didn’t deem it important enough to vote at all, the realisation that there are racists representing me (and you) in Europe has become too much.

I asked my friend Colin Roberts (a man whom musically and intellectually I respect a whole lot, and who is far more capable of writing intelligently than I am)to write something, explaining why now, more than ever, it is vital that you consider how important your role is in ensuring the BNP are not allowed to progress any further.

*****

“It’s a shame that it’s got to this stage, but as a nation we’re now in a situation where the collective apathy could end up destroying a great deal of things that make the Britain such a fabulous place to be creative, live and express yourself.

You’ve probably read that the British National Party took two seats in European Parliament, going to their candidates Nick Griffin and Andrew Brons. There are a few reasons as to why this is a bad thing and why, in eleven months time you simply MUST go and vote and I’d like to tell you them.

1) Andrew Brons, now a member of European Parliament for Yorkshire and Humber was a member of a Neo-Nazi organisation until the age of 17, a prominent member of the National Front and led a march in Leeds in the 80s where he chanted, “white power,” and “death to Jews.”

2) Nick Griffin, the leader of the BNP and now an MEP for the North West region was also a member of the National Front and in 1998 was convicted of incitement to racial hatred, as editor of racist magazine ‘The Rune’, whilst also denying the Holocaust and again being charged with racial hatred in 2005.

3) Both of these are just the public face of an organisation that has, time and time again been exposed to be an inherently racist, homophobic, anti-semitic political party. There is no getting away from it, whatsoever.

Unfortunately, the main reason that the BNP took seats last night was not because people are voting for them in droves, it’s because so many just aren’t voting at all. In Yorkshire, 6,900 FEWER people than in 2005 voted for the BNP, yet because the turnout was so low, they took power.

Saying “I didn’t vote, but I didn’t vote for the BNP either, so it’s fine,” is NOT fine. We need to unite against these people and show that this country will not tolerate this bloody-minded hatred any longer.

Your apathy is as dangerous as anything else. It doesn’t matter if you vote Labour, Green, Liberal Democrat, Conservative, whatever, just make sure you vote in 2010.”

*****

Today is a very sad day, and the first that I can truly remember feeling ashamed to be English. I do not want to feel like this, and I’m sure you do not either. I am nearly as annoyed today with those people who didn’t vote, as I am those who voted BNP. For all the people I see on twitter or numerous message boards, bemoaning the BNP’s ascension, I wonder how many of them cared enough about the threat to go out and vote for a party other than the BNP. If you live in the UK, please make a promise to yourself now that next time you will make your voice heard and ensure that racism and hatred is not allowed to become any more prevalent than it already is. Yesterday’s slim margins of defeat are proof that your single vote IS important and DOES count, and if we all treat it with the seriousness it deserves we can make a difference.

I have learnt from this, that I should have blogged about the EU elections earlier. I’m very uncomfortable with the fact that my being in a pop group, gives me a platform to speak to a wider audience than I’d have otherwise, and that a very few people would pay more attention to what I say than they may have otherwise, but if I had blogged on this, and one single person in Yorkshire or Lancashire or Humber had gone out and voted against the BNP, then that would have been a success. From now on I am going to be more vocal on matters such as this. It may be embarrassing, but I think it’s worse to remain silent.

Thank you for reading.

Gareth

#2009 #gareth!blog #lc!blog

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steamishot · 8 months

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3 year anniversary 😵‍💫

i had totally forgotten until today, but it had just passed my 3 year anniversary of living in NYC on 9/11. that's crazy. this is now 3/4 of the time i spent in college lol. i guess i'm a junior now.

we (mostly i) drove to boston last thursday. it was about a 5.5-6 hour drive due to the traffic. my laptop was on in the backseat with the mouse jiggler on. matt had just got off 9 days of working straight and was ded. the first night, we had AYCE shabu which was recommended by matt's coworker. it was just OK and our stomachs didn't feel too well the day after. we checked into the hyatt in cambridge (thanks chase points again), and was very close to MIT. there was a sign welcoming MIT parents because it was the back to school era. the hotel was situated across from the charles river, and we got to creepily watch smart looking people run along this river from our room. we opted to park our car 0.8 miles away in a different lot to save money ($40 vs $95 for two nights).

on friday, we met my reddit friend K in her condo in cambridge. i remember her to be meek and softspoken when she was in NYC for a short period, but she was quite the opposite in cambridge. now i understood it as her being overwhelmed in nyc because of all the stimulation, which caused her to shut down a little. anyway, her voice was a little louder than i remember haha, and her presence was a bit intense that i became quite shy. i got to meet her two cats and her bf M, who ended up hanging out with us for the majority of the time.

because K and M are both very intellectual (hello cambridge), matt really enjoyed conversing with them. M kind of embodies an altruistic jewish man with SF tech culture. M has an open library project, is anti-consumerist, and often wears a purple shirt with his name and QR code to his website. he keeps a public spreadsheet of his goals since 2015 and told us he's done 80K pushups. we walked around cambridge, went to an ice cream shop, linen shop, and a tea shop. then we chilled a bit at her condo where he made us some tea. got yummy udon at the nearby lesley university, and then went to a brewery afterwards. it was a long hangout, lol!

right after this hangout, i felt really self-conscious. i was the least accomplished one and honestly felt like the dumbest one in the group. they're (more so her) quick on their feet, decisive/opinionated, and can churn out thoughtful intelligent responses in seconds. her condo had a tiny TV, but many books and board games. she texted me after the hangout saying it was so nice meeting us and she appreciates me for going to visit her. i was dealing with my own feelings of unworthiness, and feeling like i don't quite fit in. i also usually don't see the intellectual side of matt often because he's totally drained from work and doesn't want to do more thinking outside of work. he had more of the spotlight because they were interested in his career. i felt like i didn't have much to share.

i felt self-conscious for a whole day afterwards, and felt weird responding to her texts, even though we chat so often (over text, reddit, and IG). i kinda wondered if we would even be friends organically if we didn't already have such deep chats via the internet. i finally got over that mental hump of not being worthy enough, and began chatting with her like normal again. instead of feeling unworthy, i tried to shift my perspective to feel lucky and inspired to have such intelligent company who i can learn things from.

matt and i also got to stay in the machimoodus getaway cabin in connecticut for the first time for two nights. i'm keeping a google sheet of the number of countries and states i've been to. so far, it's 18 countries and 18 US states. i didn't count the ones that were just layovers/pass throughs. we got into a frustrating argument in the car ride there, which i understand is all based on emotions. he's pretty much ded after the longer work week + one whole day of socializing with new people, which made him highly anxious and easily stressed because he had not had any alone/quiet time for a while. so, he gets highly anxious when i'm driving (stop!, slow down!) and i in turn get upset and react negatively to his anxiety because it triggers my anxiety. i get super annoyed at back-seat driving, especially when i'm the better (and more conscious) driver between the two of us.

i know that this was something that was discussed in my therapy session, where i don't have to fix his anxieties, and at the very least, don't need to take it personally. it's a work in progress for the both of us.

the getaway: it's the most secluded glamping site that we've been to. it's semi-luxurious, and not nearly as luxurious as autocamp. autocamp provides very nice dinnerware, a hairdryer, a TV, fast internet, etc. both autocamp and undercanvas had a community area where you can purchase food/drinks and hangout. getaway was much more isolated, and their store is self-service. no hairdryer and the dinnerware is a little cheap. the cabin is actually very tiny and thoughtfully designed (to stow away luggages and shoes). i really enjoyed the giant glass window and the windows throughout the cabin to feel at one with nature. since we had a 4 night package and also wanted to go glamping during the fall foliage season, we booked another two nights in october. K&M may join us (but not sure, as M does not like to spend money).

CT: so beautiful and lush, went to the nearby cat cafe where we were the only asians and they displayed an "antiracism" sign on the door (which i'm guessing that means that racism is prevalent in that area), checked out boho farms and got a pumpkin spice candle, went to the local grocery market twice, and did a short hike at machimoodus state park.

work: my new boss (director) officially announced my promotion yesterday in an email and included what duties will be shifted to my previous manager and my colleague. it's definitely weird to give my old manager work to do? so i'm trying to do as much as i can. there's a lot on my plate right now as i'm taking over compliance management and resolving previous payroll issues, all while still doing majority of the work for the VCP and housestaff populations. i do feel happier though, like that i'm actually looking forward to doing this type of work. it's very introverted and a bit more challenging so i'm excited to give a good impression in my first few months.

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monalisamarie · 2 years

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Insomnia at 7am

What do I really want? Do I know anymore? I'm at this moment living out my hipster indie sleaze fantasy-- lily rose depp headphones blasting nostalgic anti-suicide music (Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge) sipping on an oat milk tea latte, plain la croix while a bagel and lox sandwich marinates at a patio table surveying my upperclass, posh neighborhood. I've even dressed the part: black all the way down, braless, in cutoffs and cowboy boots. Pastel glasses and tortoise jaw clip chosen to exhibit my studious delicacy and beg the question: who is she? Who looks so sad wears mystique so well... am I overdoing it now? Who's to say? I'm surrounded by daily news and black coffee grandfathers in their signature uniform of high socks and running shorts and lady joggers with their hypoallergenic dogs in tow, for security of course. And they would be right to do so, there's been a string of violent muggings up the street.

I cant find my mace lately, am I tempting fate? I didn't sleep, despite not being tired, that has been a trend lately. Although by six or seven am, it's eight now, I fall back asleep. This morning I took to sobbing, listening to pro-suicide music (Emilie Autumn or Angel Olsen), the two events are unrelated. But I couldn't rid myself of the thought that should I own a gun, I might use it. The tears and that thought are unrelated as well. "You're so dark" a date recently remarked, as I had sat caddy corner to them, braless, in a lime slip dress and Prada flame heels... But we wont listen to him, despite his correct assumption. But didnt I possess the right? Of darkness? I'd wager he does not understand the complexity of women thirteen years his junior. I write this fuming at the memory, it's a keen feeling, to be fetishized, psychoanalyzed, and deeply misunderstood all in the same single course dinner (not counting dessert of course), that burden belongs almost exclusively-- what's the phrase? Something about the cruelty of being a teenage girl.

I miss when a excellent Phd candidate would, without fuss, comment or concern fuck my brains out, treat me as an intellectual equal for a few hours and then fuck off until the following week when we would pantomime through dinner to get to the main course. I often wonder where they've all gone off to.

--- July.

#my writing #nonfiction

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fictionadventurer · 3 years

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Wait! I’m intensely interested in what you call the Gaskell approach to mental health!

Basically, it's an approach to mental health that starts with: don't sit inside reading all the time, go outside and get exercise and sunshine, and eat good, nutrient-dense food.

I'll never forget the day that I was sitting through a training course about mental health that gave statistics showing that America had better rates of recovery from mental illness in the 1850s than we do today. The 1850s. You know, before widespread psychiatric care and medications were available. I'm not saying that these advances haven't done good things, and clearly the historical approach to treating mental illness had, to put it mildly, some major flaws, but if they were having better recovery rates in the 1850s than we do today, it suggests they were doing something right.

The training went into a few of the details that might have contributed to this--and it has been a few years since I saw this training course, so I'm probably going to get the details wrong, but here's what I can piece together (with a bit of help from Gaskell). Doctors would prescribe things like taking walks or going out into the sunshine or changing diet--and these would be written out with instructions that should be followed like any other prescription, giving guidance that was more specific than "You should get more exercise." And there was a general idea that mental health problems were temporary. You'd have a bout of depression or some kind of nervous breakdown, the doctor would provide treatment, and you would get through it and return to health. And of course there were more severe and difficult and chronic cases, but judging by the fact that they had better recovery rates, people did get cured.

Reading Gaskell earlier this year gave me a better idea as to why. In Wives and Daughters, we have Osbourne, whose temperament tends to depression, which gets worse when he suffers several severe setbacks. He isolates himself, staying inside and trying to write poetry. His family urges him to go outside, get out of his own head, and stop reading so many books--not with an anti-intellectual bent, mind you, because Roger is even more of an intellectual, but with the understanding that it's not healthy to sit inside and wallow in thoughts and emotions so much, and that good fresh air and sunshine and exercise could do a lot to help pull him out of his funk. And though Osbourne never quite listens to his family's advice, he does do better when he's doing something and going somewhere.

What rocked me even more (and made me label this the Gaskell approach to mental health) was reading Cousin Phillis. There's a scene where the narrator's boss suffers a severe illness requiring a lot of recovery time. Phillis's family urges the narrator to bring his boss to their farm over the weekend, because they're certain that the fresh country air and sunshine will do him loads of good. The mother even says something along the lines of, "We'll give him milk from our best cow, and her milk is as good as cream." That floored me. From a modern perspective, it was insane to see something labeled as a health food because it's higher in fat. But it's such a common-sense approach to nutrition. Fat is a nutrient. Your body needs nutrients, especially when it's trying to recover from illness. Your brain needs fat to function. When a modern person would have been counting calories or calculating out exact percentages of every nutrient, the Victorians were going, "We'll give you as much good food as possible." To be clear, good food also included a lot of fresh vegetables and meat, so it's not like they were just shoving him full of fatty junk food, but the idea was that food was a good thing for health. It's so much more human to look at food, not as an enemy, but as a tool for healing.

When you think about our modern world, where people live more than ever in urban areas, sit inside reading screens all day (often as part of their job), and those screens are telling them that they need to resist food, calculate food, war against food, is it any wonder that people aren't recovering from mental illness? We've had tons of advances in analyzing and treating mental illness, but reading Gaskell makes me think that people of the past already had a pretty good idea of how to promote mental health.

#elizabeth gaskell #mental health #wives and daughters #cousin phillis #answered asks #magpie-trove #thanks for giving me the chance to explain about this!#i've had these thoughts brewing for a while and you motivated me to finally write them down

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fanonical · 3 years

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i always wonder how much of count olaf's anti-intellectualism is him being himself and how much of it is a targeted response to vfd's high-minded snobbery and focus on being 'well-read' as an indicator of moral goodness

#A Series of Unfortunate Events #ASoUE #Count Olaf #VFD

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emmys-grimoire · 3 years

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Lesson 52 - Bittersweet Pseudo-Memories

It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was good for what it was?

When we last left our heroes, they were having their intimate moment intruded upon by Big Majestic Chicken Lucifer, who demands to know who they are. You can try to evade the question, but he continues to be an asshole and you have to relent and continue to pretend you and ‘Sully’ are angels. Lucifer pretends to believe you and proceeds to make you do his chores.

Lucifer proceeds to complain about Raphael dumping all his work onto him and Satan implies that Lucifer is letting the other angel bully him... and he’s not actually wrong. I’m not sure why Lucifer just couldn’t say “no” -- it’s not like he isn’t willing to in other contexts.

But Satan also can’t help himself, and it’s very clear early on that Lucifer knows he isn’t an angel. We are escorted to the library to sort books.

NEEEEEEEERD. Satan is a natural librarian, of course.

Lucifer continues to opine about his situation and Satan continues to needle him about it. There’s a cute moment when Lucifer admits there are few angels he can turn to for help or advice, and by contrast he feels Satan might be worth confiding in because he’s a fellow level-headed intellectual.

D’aaaaw. My only complaint is that he doesn’t really do this in the story; it’s only now being brought up for a bonding opportunity. The most we get is acknowledgement that Lucifer has a high opinion of Satan’s wealth of knowledge and expertise... he hasn’t really taken advantage of it.

It could be because the Avatar of Pride doesn’t feel he needs advice from anyone else.

The book comes up again, but...

It’s used as a trap to capture ‘Sully’ and reveal he is what Lucifer suspected he was: a demon.

Yeah I did but the game insists I be an unobservant moron for the plot to continue.

In my lesson 51 analysis I theorized the numbers in the title of the mysterious book related to a particular Bible verse meant to encourage believers to keep their faith, and while I can’t be 100% sure that’s what it was meant to allude to, this exchange seems to suggest it could have been. This arc is meant to instill Satan with more faith in Lucifer, because he’s constantly doubting his intent throughout this lesson.

But we discover that Lucifer has changed from who he was before we startled meddling in time travel dreams, by his own admission. You can probably make a good guess to who is responsible for that change (it’s actually not MC, though, believe it or not!).

Yep, it’s Diavolo.

Diavolo doesn’t act the way Lucifer expected a demon to behave and it’s confusing him.

But he likes him, and he has had some time to digest that. Glory Days Lucifer would never have admitted this to anyone, let alone strangers.

D’aaaaw.

Lucifer then turns his attention towards MC and asks about what they are. If you’re truthful, you get this interesting tidbit of information:

Michael has been scoping out Solomon before the Great Celestial War. Whatever for, I wonder? I don’t think angels offer pacts, and I suspect Solomon was a bit of a troublemaker even before he was given Michael’s ring.

My guess? Michael is Solomon’s guardian angel. It is probably the closest equivalent to forging a pact that angels have.

Yeah... I just told you I was a human lol.

A HUMAN.

(Nah I know it’s pretty obvious that we’re SPECIAL, at this point.)

Lucifer takes us to Simeon and the brothers, who are gathered in presumably Michael’s observatory-to-be. Lucifer decides to hi-jack Michael’s fun and steals the first chance to see the human world’s night sky for himself and his family. It is projected onto the walls of the room.

You can suggest Michael might be mad, and Lucifer makes it clear he gives no fucks.

The other option makes him explain he believes he’s owed this because Michael keeps making him go to the Devildom and never volunteers himself lol

The brothers marvel at the spectacle, and they wonder about the stories behind each constellation. Mammon suggests Michael likely knows all about them, and Satan proceeds to nerd out again AND POTENTIALLY STEALS THAT MEMORY by making himself the one who teaches his brothers about the stars.

But, it’s Satan’s at his best, and he enjoys it thoroughly.

You and the brothers eventually doze off, and Satan wakes you up to share some private reflections.

Cute.

You realize Lucifer and Simeon are nowhere to be found, and run off to go see what they’re up to. They’re having a private moment of their own.

Simeon’s happy but sad. :(

Yeah. I’ll have more to say about this particular moment in my analysis post. There’s a noteworthy parallel at play here.

Ruh roh. I think Simeon and Michael may have suspected Diavolo played a part in pushing Lucifer away from the Celestial Realm. If given the opportunity, I sense Simeon may have tried to talk him out of this doubt.

But he isn’t given the opportunity! We pass out and the screen goes black, accompanied by some creepy heartbeats. When we come to, we’re back in reality and in the care of Luke and Mammon.

Wow you guys had an exciting time being shoved offscreen didn’t you?

They puzzle over what transpired and Luke and Mammon confess they don’t remember anything of what happened after they stepped into the fake House of Lamentation.

Furthermore...

I was correct in my theory that it was an illusion, but it seems it was the work of regular ol’ fairies and not some creepy banshee. That was a red herring, apparently. It’s even more anti-climatic than expected.

Additionally, Satan unknowingly covered himself in fairy crack before he dropped in.

My question is: how the fuck does Simeon know all this? Did he hang out with fairies once upon a time?

They decide to give up the hunt for the fairy ring and return home.

NOOOO THEY MADE LUKE CRY

If it were up to me I would have gone back and punched some fairies into submission until they forked over the ring, Luke. I’m sorry!

Of course, there’s not enough sleeper cars now that Simeon and Satan unexpectedly joined the party. Guess what they proceed to fight over!

You flex your pacts to make Mammon and Satan stop squabbling.

Are we sure Lucifer and Michael are the only angel sadists?

Simeon takes an unusual amount of delight in the suffering or discomfort of others lol

I think he’s just much better at hiding it.

Either way, it’s obvious he’s bothered by something, and after some deflection and prying he finally fesses up.

Michael and Simeon want them back BAD.

We finally get our first opportunity to get all sappy with Simeon here.

Well I was right about which trial this was supposed to be, at least!

Luke and Mammon are on the roof squabbling about constellations again.

You’re treated to a mini-quiz about them. Have Google at the ready.

You find out there’s a constellation involving the seven brothers in the Celestial Realm, that was created (or at least named) after they fell.

They begin to theorize what the other three stars may represent. Mammon thinks it’s Michael and the stars represent his face.

Satan chimes in with a much better take.

I think Satan’s mostly right, but the stars represent Diavolo/Michael/MC specifically: the three “guardians” of their respective realms, all of whom have deep connections with the brothers.

Solomon can also count as a guardian, but I don’t feel he has the same connection with the brothers that those three have.

And it turns out this was two trials!

I completely forgot that generosity and gratitude were two of the virtues Solomon listed, so it’s not a complete copy of the seven virtues. But hey, it’s now four down and three to go!

We have eight more lessons to complete the remaining three, so we have plenty of time. But... what about the overarching plot? I was certain that something in this arc would finally jumpstart it, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

But... maybe there was something hiding in there? I’ll go over the more important bits in my analysis post.

There’s still plenty of lore they haven’t covered re: the Celestial Realm and most of it has just been fluff. Satan’s creation remains a mystery: so far we’ve learned the Seraphim are assholes and Lucifer is overworked, but the latter is nothing new and I highly doubt that inspires enough visceral rage to make Lucifer absolutely hate his dad. We don’t know how the war unfolded and we don’t know why Simeon was demoted from his post. How things went is a big determining factor in trying to deduce Michael’s part in everything, and what he’s currently planning.

I’m hoping they get around to all the juicy bits, but I don’t know...

#obey me #obey me!#obey me lucifer #obey me simeon #obey me satan #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #obey me spoilers #obey me lesson 52 #commentary

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devilsskettle · 2 years

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@talus-the-broken i'm not gonna keep harping on this on someone else's post because i'm not going to be rude to the op, but yeah, let's get into it

popular nonacademic ideas about mythology don't define what greek mythic tradition is. there might not be a difference to the "general public" because they don't know what the difference is, and taking their definition of mythology as just as legitimate as the accepted academic definition of mythic tradition is blatantly anti-intellectual and ridiculous. you and other people making this argument are reifying the idea that humanities aren't a legitimate discipline. accepting the idea that there's no meaningful difference to the layman so anything that anyone claims without any citations or background knowledge (even to a basic level!) can and should be given equal weight is simply justifying the spread of misinformation about ancient greek culture, history, literature, and religion. maybe that doesn't seem important to you, but again. blatantly anti-intellectual and destructive to the perception of history as a discipline

there's no denying the way that ancient mediterranean studies as a field has a long history of reinforcing regressive social standards, perpetuating racism, sexism, homophobia, etc to this day. it's a huge problem. it's also, in my experience, what you discuss on day 1 of an intro classics course. it's also been written about and widely discussed since the 80s with the beginning of the black athena movement. right now, it’s a subject of much controversy and debate about how to progress as a field. also, i have to ask: what field of study doesn't have a history of and is still impacted by systemic oppression and bias? there are problems of accessibility in every discipline of academia. including science, if we continue the comparison. biology has been used to legitimize racism for hundreds of years. do we reject biology as a field or do we reject the scholarship that is entrenched in bigotry and work to do better going forward as a field? you need to learn critical thinking skills and recognizing legitimate sources of information, if you’re taking everything (anything!) at face value, you’re a bad historian. and of course much information has been lost to time, but that is not the same as “much of history is lost.” that’s a fundamental misunderstanding of history as an academic field, especially one as interdisciplinary as and covering as long of a timespan as ancient mediterranean studies. although we only have like, what, 1% of the literature spanning all of the time that we call antiquity? that’s still more writing than any person could even come close to reading in their lifetime. it doesn’t mean we don’t know anything and modern historians are just making shit up. not to mention archaeological evidence lol

on the question of separating the "true" from modern fabrication, or what you call “fanfiction of the myths,” for the layman: look at the texts from antiquity that we have. we don't have to wonder what these stories were because we have them. we have the text of the iliad. we have the text of hesiodic poetry. we have the text of many greek tragedies. and guess what? they are translated! they are free online! there are resources to understand these texts free online! there is no excuse to post unfounded opinions based on misinformation when you could just. not. you could read the work that you want to say something about before making baseless claims about it on the internet lol and the way you talk about sources of mythology, i have more than a modicum of doubt that you have read anything beyond bulfinch and text posts on tumblr.edu, so i can hardly count you as a reliable source of information on the topic

so. you say that the differences between adaptations is time. that is part of it actually! but what aren't you getting about "a mythology that is no longer naturally developing over time doesn’t include works written thousands of years after the culture itself doesn’t exist anymore." that's an incredibly important distinction because if you give equal weight to these stories as part of ancient greek mythic tradition, you are once again supporting the spread of misinformation about ancient greek culture, history, literature, and religion. and it is so egotistical and entitled to act like we can be equal contributors to the history, literature, and religion of a culture that we don't belong to. that doesn't exist anymore. and if you're so concerned about people using mythology to justify racism and imperialism, maybe you shouldn't be reifying the propaganda that all "western culture" is derived from and has a stake in and overlaps significantly with ancient "greco-roman" culture, that we are a part of this tradition and lineage, because we're not. modern greek culture is not. also, to say that these stories were written by "random writers" is to once again show a fundamental inability to understand that greek mythic tradition developed orally over centuries and was a part of everyday life and culture. homer isn't a "random writer," it's a name that was assigned to a figure who is essentially mythological in his own right, and it's still used today as shorthand attribution and as a way to talk about the many aoidoi who established and continued the stories of epic tradition across generations. homeric epic was written down somewhere in the 8th century BCE but existed in oral tradition well before that. the mythic pool of traditions developed the same way. this shit doesn’t exist in a vacuum. it's not like writing fanfiction for a fucking marvel movie in the year of 2022 CE

also i don’t get why you keep harping on the validity of modern adaptations that deviate from the “original” story. i don’t care about that at all and i have actively enjoyed adaptations that are wildly different from their mythological basis (autobiography of red for example). so. i will try to say this as clearly as possible to avoid further confusion: modern adaptations of mythology matter because of what it says about our society. it’s a legitimate part of our canon of literature. we should be critical about it based on what it means for us, what they changes the author chooses to make means for us. it is not part of the ancient greek canon for the reasons i have already stated multiple times. it is distinct from greek mythology. if you want to call it fanfiction because you can’t engage with literature in any other way, fine. but writing in general is not fanfiction (again: modern original fiction) and mythology is not fanfiction

and so we come to the ludicrous idea that any piece of writing can arbitrarily be called fanfiction because it is “based on” something, meaning any aspect of reality (biology is just fanfiction of animals! physics is just fanfiction of the forces of nature! history is just fanfiction of the past! if you can't see why that's stupid, you're a lost cause). you still have not defined "fanfiction" in a meaningful way, but apply the term to whatever literature you feel like. here's a definition for you: fanfiction is a genre of writing developed in the late 1900s at the advent of the internet, referring to works written based on another author's work, existing outside of that work's canon, as a way to further explore the characters, setting, or themes of a story (addendum 1: often written by nonprofessionals and then self published, addendum 2: often, but not necessarily, of a sexual nature). that is what i mean by "fanfiction" and i believe it aligns with most people's definition of it. don't take my word for it, though! always demand those sources! here's the definition and graph of use over time from the oxford dictionary:

to sum up. basically your argument is: 1) the layperson makes no distinction between oversimplified mythology or adaptations vs the actual ancient greek mythological tradition, so we shouldn’t either. 2) scholarship around mythology and derivative works have been influenced by bias and prejudice, so it doesn’t matter how we talk about mythology. 3) we don’t really know anything about these made up stories written by random people in antiquity so made up stories written by random people in the modern era should have equal weight in the discussion of the ancient greek pool of traditions. anything i missed? because i believe i have covered why each of these points is extremely flawed

and i still haven’t seen an answer on the following: why do you guys insist on taking the idea that fanfiction isn’t inherently garbage to the most radical opposite extreme possible? do you think you’re somehow legitimizing fanfiction? or do you think you’re making history and literature more “accessible” by dumbing it down until it’s unrecognizable?

anyway, you said it yourself: “[F]or all practical purposes, to the general public there IS no difference. That's not to say there shouldn't be.” i agree! there is a difference and there should be a difference and we should not reify the idea that there is no difference even if it seems like it doesn’t matter, because somehow it has become a popularly held belief that engaging with mythology as if it is a fandom on the internet is just as legitimate as rigorous scholarship on the same subject to the point that the most common interpretations of these myths are based on misinformation and defended with anti-intellectual rhetoric, much of which is steeped in socially regressive views, and that speaks to a bigger problem of media illiteracy and anti-intellectualism that extends beyond shipping discourse or what have you on this shitty ass website

sorry about the bulfinch/bullfinch inconsistency though, i liked the “bullshit mythology” pun

#greek mythology #long post

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shrike-nest · 3 years

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D&D Character Ask Post

In Honor of D&D, Here are 100 Questions answered about my character Alistair. Done from a prompt reposted by @mechmech and @scatterpatter , and also gonna tag my DM @aerial-ace97

What Does He Smell like: Ozone, Sandalwood, Pine

Voice: A light baritone, sometimes slipping into a bit of a lit from his native island (similar to a Scottish brogue/Irish lit)

Motivator: Before he met his group? Power and Adrenaline. Now? Redemption.

Most embarrassing memory: (TW: Animal Death) He doesn’t really remember this as he was terribly drunk at the time, but he and his crew stopped in a city that held goats as a sacred animal. With a terribly “bright” idea, he wondered how far a goat could fly? Because goats fly. Throws the goat off of the third floor of a building. Then proceeds to have a not very respectful Coffin Dance-style funeral for said goat.

How does he react to pain: Lots of swearing and anger.

What does he wear: He wears dragon scale armor that has three deep gouges in it from where he was previously killed. A faded and slightly ragged admiral style coat on top, leather breeches, and give this man some high calf pirate boots. He also always wears a green headband to keep his hair back, and occasionally an eyepatch to hide his demonic eye.

Most positive relationship: In terms of character development, it might be Torvid, as Torvid inspires Alistair to be a better moral person. In terms of wholesomeness? His partner/hopefully soon fiancé, Atwater. Atwater was able to show Alistair that he can have positive love in his life, without having to fight so hard for it.

The weirdest thing he has ever eaten: Corren’s cooking

Sleep: He suffers from nightmares and now more recently night terrors. Because he technically doesn’t need to sleep from effects of his class, he often chooses not to. However, when he does sleep, he sleeps hard, snores lightly, and octopus cuddles anything in his bed.

Favorite food/ kinda food: He actually really loves a dish similar to pao de queijo (Brazillian Cheese Bread).

Most insecure about: His ability of being a leader.

Like to wear: He enjoys fairly tight fitting clothing to prevent too much flapping when he flies or moves around quickly.

How do they react to feelings of guilt: Denial and self doubt

React to betrayal: A very quick and violent anger that chills to a long lasting and cold hatred. He doesn’t forgive easily.

Greatest achievement: After being mutinied against by his former crew, being wanted and supported as a leader for his current adventuring party

Too little sleep: Pretty robotic, but he doesn’t get exhausted anymore or feel any physical effects of not getting sleep due to his class.

What are they like drunk: He’s a very cheerful and boisterous drunk. Makes and laughs at many jokes. Can fall into a melancholy pretty easily though if he thinks on certain thoughts too long. Deflects with humor!

Music likes: 80s hair band music, and 70s-80s rock.

Right or left-handed: Right handed

Fears: He’s claustrophobic, but also has a fear of being vulnerable and getting his heart broken again.

Favorite weather: Sunny Day with a slight chill.

Favorite color: He really likes blue.

Collect anything: Well technically he used to collect gold and other high priced artifacts. He doesn’t really collect anything anymore.

Hot or cold weather: This man controls the weather. He enjoys his thermostat of life to be at a nice 70 degrees F.

Eye color: His natural eye color is an emerald green. His left eye is a demon cat eye, with a gold iris and black sclera.

Race/ ethnicity: He’s a human in the world of Sekrezia, but in IRL, he’s probably northern UK.

Hair color: Ginger/Auburn, with some sun-bleached streaks in it.

Happy where they are currently: … Well his adopted sister and brother just died in the last game so nah. BUT- as kind of a whole, he’s happy to be where he is now as a person compared to how he used to be.

Morning person: Yup. He tends to wake with the sun if he sleeps, and once he’s awake- he’s awake.

Sunrise or sunset: He loves the sunset. It calms and amazes him that he survived another day.

Messy or organized: He’s messy. Kind of an ADHD procrastination kind of messy.

Pet peeves: Disloyalty, undeserved ego trips, other weather veins that mess with his control of the weather,

Objects of significant importance: O’Malley, his halberd. He earned his weapon when he became a captain, and it has saved his life numerous times after.

Least favorite food: After being stuck in a cave for over a year? Anything with mushrooms.

Least favorite color: He’s not a fan of dark reds or browns. Reminds him too much of dried blood. (oooh edgelord)

Least favorite smell: Cauterized Flesh, Rotting Fish

The last time they cried: Last game. But before that? When he found out that Torvid killed his father. Before before that? When Atwater died. Before before before that? When he woke up alone in the desert after the mutiny.

Were they with anyone when they cried: His party. His party and both sides of the war that was going on. And no one.

One time they got injured: He actually died in a fight with a dragon, not with the dragon, but with a bat crony of the dragon.

Scars: He’s got a scar in the shape of a jagged p on his right cheek, a claw scar from when his eye was gouged out, and he also has the marks from the bat crony when he died. Alistair also has lightning scars on his arms that led to minor nerve damage that occurred when he first was learning how to use his magic.

Mental health issues: ADHD, Depression, Anxiety

Bad habits: Lashing out when he doesn’t know how to process his emotions

Why might someone dislike him: … Lemme get the list. So if we ignore the fact that he used to be a feared sky pirate, earning the nickname “Orphaner of the Skies”… he can be a flippant asshole sometimes. He can often forget to stay in touch and update people on important topics. Also, some may dislike him because he insists on being their dad (*cough* CORREN *cough*)

Why might someone love him: Alistair is very loyal to those he trusts and he can often fall into caretaker type tendencies.

Believe in ghosts: Yeah. He’s seen them and fought them. Also dated one.

Anyone they would trust with their life: Mecha, Corren, Tristan, Atwater, Jerry, Mephistopheles, and Torvid.

Romantically interested in anyone: Atwater!

Dating/ Married: He is currently dating Atwater

Like surprises: Not really

Birthday: His weave day is in Summer, Sibelya 13th.

Celebrate their birthday: He used to. Doesn’t really anymore, mostly because he hasn’t had much reason to celebrate or the time.

Family: His parents are dead, but he still has his adopted aunt Imelda. He also views Tristan as his brother, Corren as his little brother, Mecha as his sister. Atwater is his romantic partner, and he is now the step father of Atwater’s child, Crestwell. He also is the adopted father of Liam (deceased) and Liam’s twin sister, Serana.

Close to their family: Yes

MBTI type: ENTP

Zodiac signs: His Sekrezian Sign is Xamatang, The Coming Storm

Hogwarts house: Gryffindor

Alignment; Chaotic Neutral but he’s steadily making his way towards Chaotic Good

Nightmares: Yes. Often about his ex, Ghost. He also has nightmares about losing those he considers family.

View on death: If it happens, it happens. Once someone is at peace, leave them be.

Something they always laugh at: Seeing his group smile and joke around.

When bored, what do they do: Fly, tinker with magic, practice magic, research magic.

Enjoy the outside: Very much so.

Accent: I can’t replicate it, but I imagine it’s somewhere between a Scottish and Irish accent. However it has faded as he hasn’t been home in a very long time.

Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, the first reaction: *Poke it*, *Look at it*, *Look around*… *Shrug*, My cake now.

If they knew they were going to die what would they do/ say: He would find his party, if he can- gives them hugs, and hopefully be able to die watching the sunset. “Find what makes you happy and hold on to it. You all deserve to have happiness in your lives.”

Feelings about sex: He likes it. He also has a pretty damn high libido.

Sexuality: Bisexual

Squeamish around blood: Somewhat. It makes him uncomfortable now because he’s scared that he likes the sight of it still.

Anything they find gross: Rotting bodies and decaying bodies.

TV trope: Father Figure, Tragic Backstory, Anti-Hero

Enjoy helping people: Yes, he finds it comforting, like a form of redemption.

Allergies: Minor shellfish allergy

Pet: Does Meph count as a pet? I mean, he usually hangs around Alistair as a cat.

Quick to anger: Depends on the situation, but yes.

How patient is he: Not very. He gets very jittery and anxious easily. He’s getting slightly better at that.

Good at cooking: Somewhat, he tends to overdo it on the spice.

Favorite insult:” It’s cute when you try.”

How do they act when happy: The biggest doofiest smile, and he can’t help but laugh occasionally.

What do they do when they learn about others’ fears: He keeps it secret, but tends to go out of his way to help them through it, or help them avoid their fears.

Trustworthy: If you earn his trust, yes. A million times in return.

Do they try to hide their emotions: If it benefits him? Yes. And he’s damn good at it. But if he feels it’s not necessary to do so, his heart is on his sleeve.

Exercise regularly: Yes. His constitution is ridiculous and so he often finds ways to keep up and improve his stamina and strength even further.

Comfortable with the way they look: Yeah. He can get a lil cocky about it. But this is a man who uses bar soap on his hair.

Features they find attractive on others: Eyes and hands.

Personalities they find attractive: He likes those that can keep up with him intellectually, but also on a wittier level as well. He really views self-confidence as attractive.

Do they like sweet foods: Yes.

Age: He just turned 42.

Tall or short: He’s 6’0”

Glasses or contacts: Nah

Consider herself attractive: Yup

Sense of humor: Sexual humor, dad jokes ftw, but can also throw in some dark and self-deprecating humor nowadays.

What mood are they in most often: Most recently, a sort of determined melancholia. But he used to be very self-assured, confident, and flippant.

What angers them: Child abuse, betrayal, hurting those he cares about.

Outlook on life: “Just keep going. Roll with the punches. Because that sun is going to rise again, and you’re going to get to try again, try something new, find something new.”

What makes them sad or depressed: Thinking of those he has lost, thinking of Ghost, falling into his own insecurities.

Greatest weakness: He often jumps into situations without thinking them through. He tends to be very “leap before he looks”

Greatest strength: His determination and resiliency

Something they regret: Losing contact with his crew and Imelda, not being a better leader in his eyes, his past of piracy, and in some ways- all his deals with Mephistopheles, even the one that granted him his magic.

Biggest accomplishment: Isn’t this the same as greatest achievement?

Favorite memory: Sitting by the campfire with his group and all of them laughing, joking, and smiling with each other. With the good ol occasional ribbing at Corren’s expense.

#D&D #Alistair Stormcrown #Sekrezia #The F.U.C.K.s

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a-room-of-my-own · 4 years

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Hi! Did you see the NewStasteman interview with Judith Butler? The way she framed the whole debate about gender is so depressing, I cannot believe it... And that's without going into the Rowling debate, the more I read about it on Twitter and tumblr and the most depressed I get. How can womanhood be reduced to a feeling anyone can claim?

https://www.newstatesman.com/international/2020/09/judith-butler-culture-wars-jk-rowling-and-living-anti-intellectual-times

I had not seen it so thank you for giving me the opportunity to read it. She’s really manipulative and that’s pretty scary honestly. I picked up a few examples to show you

“I want to first question whether trans-exclusionary feminists are really the same as mainstream feminists. (…) I want to first question whether trans-exclusionary feminists are really the same as mainstream feminists. (…)I think it is actually a fringe movement that is seeking to speak in the name of the mainstream, and that our responsibility is to refuse to let that happen.

It’s “our” responsibility to act on something she cannot prove? It’s quite easy to observe that trans-activists are an active minority within the feminist movement. On the other hand, it’s much harder to prove than most people support modern trans-activism in all its implications. She doesn’t give any source, proof or figures to support her claim but ask people to fight for it, nevertheless. That’s faith, not fact.

If we look closely at the example that you characterise as “mainstream” [the problem of men claiming to be trans to access women’s space] we can see that a domain of fantasy is at work, one which reflects more about the feminist who has such a fear than any actually existing situation in trans life.

Then again, no proof, when many gender critical bloggers have lists of dozens of examples of men using self-ID to access bathrooms, women’s shelters, women’s prisons, some of them sex offenders.

The feminist who holds such a view presumes that the penis does define the person, and that anyone with a penis would identify as a woman for the purposes of entering such changing rooms and posing a threat to the women inside. It assumes that the penis is the threat, or that any person who has a penis who identifies as a woman is engaging in a base, deceitful, and harmful form of disguise. This is a rich fantasy, and one that comes from powerful fears, but it does not describe a social reality.

That’s a lot of words to call women who are afraid of men “hysterical”. #sorority

Trans women are often discriminated against in men’s bathrooms, and their modes of self-identification are ways of describing a lived reality, one that cannot be captured or regulated by the fantasies brought to bear upon them. The fact that such fantasies pass as public argument is itself cause for worry.

Word salad that could be translated like this: our priority shouldn’t be protecting women from men, it should be accommodating men, because #notallmen are predators, so it would be very unfair to them, uwu. Men’s concerns should always be considered while women who are afraid are irrational.

I am not aware that terf is used as a slur.

I’m 99% sure that’s a lie, but okay.

I wonder what name self-declared feminists who wish to exclude trans women from women's spaces would be called? If they do favour exclusion, why not call them exclusionary?

Women who want to have spaces without men should be called exclusionary, because we define women based on their relationship with men and how they include them. Suuuuure.

If they understand themselves as belonging to that strain of radical feminism that opposes gender reassignment, why not call them radical feminists? My only regret is that there was a movement of radical sexual freedom that once travelled under the name of radical feminism, but it has sadly morphed into a campaign to pathologise trans and gender non-conforming peoples.

We’re not the ones telling you can cure a psychological problem with cross-sex hormones and amputations, but we are the one pathologizing trans and GNC people. That’s hi-la-rious.

My sense is that we have to renew the feminist commitment to gender equality and gender freedom in order to affirm the complexity of gendered lives as they are currently being lived.

Meaningless word salad > "women should let men redefine the word woman as they please"

Let us be clear that the debate here [between people who support JKR and others] is not between feminists and trans activists. There are trans-affirmative feminists, and many trans people are also committed feminists. So one clear problem is the framing that acts as if the debate is between feminists and trans people. It is not. One reason to militate against this framing is because trans activism is linked to queer activism and to feminist legacies that remain very alive today.

TLDR: Real feminist can only be trans-supporters.

Feminism has always been committed to the proposition that the social meanings of what it is to be a man or a woman are not yet settled. We tell histories about what it meant to be a woman at a certain time and place, and we track the transformation of those categories over time.

That’s gender for you Judith, not biological sex. Social identities vary, biological sex is a constant. Saying that isn't essentialism.

We depend on gender as a historical category, and that means we do not yet know all the ways it may come to signify, and we are open to new understandings of its social meanings. It would be a disaster for feminism to return either to a strictly biological understanding of gender or to reduce social conduct to a body part or to impose fearful fantasies, their own anxieties, on trans women...

“Women who are afraid of men are irrational” third instalment.

Their abiding and very real sense of gender ought to be recognised socially and publicly as a relatively simple matter of according another human dignity. The trans-exclusionary radical feminist position attacks the dignity of trans people.

Men are whoever they say they are, women are whoever men say they are.

One does not have to be a woman to be a feminist, and we should not confuse the categories. Men who are feminists, non-binary and trans people who are feminists, are part of the movement if they hold to the basic propositions of freedom and equality that are part of any feminist political struggle.

Many feminists consider that men can only be feminist allies, so the debate is clearly not settled.

When laws and social policies represent women, they make tacit decisions about who counts as a woman, and very often make presuppositions about what a woman is. We have seen this in the domain of reproductive rights. So the question I was asking then is: do we need to have a settled idea of women, or of any gender, in order to advance feminist goals?

Does “woman” need to have a *gasp* definition? Judith is saying it doesn’t. You’ll notice that she doesn’t say that anything about “man” not having a stable definition. She believes it’s possible to fight against misogyny while having no stable definition for what a woman is. Laughable.

I put the question that way… to remind us that feminists are committed to thinking about the diverse and historically shifting meanings of gender, and to the ideals of gender freedom. By gender freedom, I do not mean we all get to choose our gender. Rather, we get to make a political claim to live freely and without fear of discrimination and violence against the genders that we are.

Word salad > “we don’t get to choose our gender but we get to choose it I am very smart"

Many people who were assigned “female” at birth never felt at home with that assignment, and those people (including me) tell all of us something important about the constraints of traditional gender norms for many who fall outside its terms.

Many women have internalized misogyny and homophobia, which in turn had a huge impact on their sense of self and self-esteem, but that doesn’t mean they’re not women Judith. And I don’t think any woman who was forcefully married, who had her vulva mutilated for religious reasons, had to wear a veil since she was a toddler, or was sold as a child into prostitution ever “felt at home” with having been born a girl, you absolute unit.

Feminists know that women with ambition are called “monstrous” or that women who are not heterosexual are pathologised. We fight those misrepresentations because they are false and because they reflect more about the misogyny of those who make demeaning caricatures than they do about the complex social diversity of women. Women should not engage in the forms of phobic caricature by which they have been traditionally demeaned. And by “women” I mean all those who identify in that way.

That was going so well until the last sentence

I think we are living in anti-intellectual times, and that this is evident across the political spectrum.

JB, darling, just read your own word salad and get some self-awareness.

The quickness of social media allows for forms of vitriol that do not exactly support thoughtful debate. We need to cherish the longer forms.

Tell that to your supporters Miss I Wasn't Aware TERF Were A Slur.

I am against online abuse of all kinds. I confess to being perplexed by the fact that you point out the abuse levelled against JK Rowling, but you do not cite the abuse against trans people and their allies that happens online and in person.

Kindergarten argument, but sure. Also, yet again, no proof.

I disagree with JK Rowling's view on trans people, but I do not think she should suffer harassment and threats. Let us also remember, though, the threats against trans people in places like Brazil, the harassment of trans people in the streets and on the job in places like Poland and Romania – or indeed right here in the US.

“Threats against JKR are bad BUT have you seen what’s happening in Brazil?”. I’m sorry what? Also, could trans-activist please stop instrumentalizing Brazilian stats, since they reflect the situation of prostituted homosexual transsexuals ?

So if we are going to object to harassment and threats, as we surely should, we should also make sure we have a large picture of where that is happening, who is most profoundly affected, and whether it is tolerated by those who should be opposing it. It won’t do to say that threats against some people are tolerable but against others are intolerable.

NO ONE, literally NO ONE said that threats against trans people were acceptable. In fact, most, if not pretty much all threats, especially physical threats, don’t come from radical feminists, but from men. Basically, what she’s saying is “who cares about threats against JKR, trans people (men) matter more”.

If trans-exclusionary radical feminists understood themselves as sharing a world with trans people, in a common struggle for equality, freedom from violence, and for social recognition, there would be no more trans-exclusionary radical feminists.

♫ Kumbaya my Lord, Kumbaya ♪

It is a sad day when some feminists promote the anti-gender ideology position of the most reactionary forces in our society.

All radical feminists are right wingers, sure.

Anyway, it's terrible that this kind of article is taken seriously when it could be summed up as "women are irrational and hysterical, men can be women and redefine the word woman if they so wish"...

#Gender critical #Judith Butler #And that's sooo pompous #Way to hide the emptiness of your reasoning ma'am

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