#Reality Construction

[omegaphilosophia]

Language, Thought, and Reality: The Interplay of Human Understanding

Language is more than a mere tool for communication; it's a fundamental element of human cognition that significantly shapes our perception of reality. The intricate relationship between language, thought, and reality has intrigued philosophers, linguists, and cognitive scientists for centuries. This intricate interplay not only influences how we express our ideas but also defines the very nature of our thoughts and, by extension, the way we perceive the world.

Language as a Lens to Reality

One of the most influential ideas in this realm is the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, which posits that the structure and vocabulary of a language can mold and constrain the way its speakers think about the world. This concept comes in two flavors: linguistic determinism and linguistic relativism. Linguistic determinism suggests that language entirely determines the way we think, limiting our thoughts to what is expressible in our language. Linguistic relativism, on the other hand, holds that language influences thought but doesn't strictly determine it.

Consider, for instance, the linguistic distinction between colors. Languages vary in how they categorize and label colors. Some have more words for different shades of blue, while others may combine colors that speakers of different languages consider distinct. This variation can affect how people perceive and categorize colors. If a language doesn't have a distinct word for a certain shade, its speakers may be less likely to perceive it as a separate entity. In this way, language can serve as a lens through which we view and define our reality.

The Mind's Toolkit: Language and Concepts

Language, in its complexity, provides us with a toolkit for understanding and categorizing the world. Words are not just labels but also containers of meaning and concepts. They define boundaries, allowing us to separate, categorize, and convey information. The very presence of specific words in a language implies the importance of these distinctions to its speakers.

Furthermore, the structural components of a language, such as syntax and grammar, govern how ideas are connected and expressed. They provide a blueprint for how concepts are related within the realm of thought. Thus, language helps us not only to classify the world but also to construct our understanding of it.

The Cultural Dimension

It's important to recognize that language isn't just an individual phenomenon. It is deeply entwined with culture. The language a person speaks is often a reflection of their cultural background and can encompass shared beliefs, values, and worldviews. Cultural linguistics explores how a language's unique features emerge from and influence the culture it is embedded in.

Beyond Language

While the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis and the study of linguistic relativity highlight the significance of language in shaping thought and reality, they are not without controversy. Critics argue that thought and perception are not solely dictated by language. Concepts like non-verbal communication, universal human experiences, and innate cognitive structures challenge the idea of linguistic determinism.

In the grand scheme of philosophy, the relationship between language, thought, and reality remains an open question. Language undoubtedly plays a vital role in shaping our perception of the world, but its extent and limits continue to be topics of philosophical inquiry.

As we ponder the intricate connection between language, thought, and reality, we gain insight into the profound ways in which human beings engage with and understand the world. This philosophical exploration enriches our understanding of the human experience and broadens the horizons of cognitive science, linguistics, and cultural studies.

[captainjonnitkessler]

I think I've identified the reason I get so worked up about anarchism in relation to labor rights and safety in particular.

Three years ago I watched my coworker almost die when a piece of machinery we were moving unsafely fell on him. It missed his head by an inch and snapped his leg in half instead. It took months of recovery and multiple surgeries for him to walk again and he will be disabled for the rest of his life. And it didn't happen because of Capitalism or profit motive or because our evil bosses were forcing us to work unsafely. It happened because he'd done similar things a hundred times before and it had always been fine, and because I didn't know enough to clock just how dangerous what we were doing was, and just because of some plain shitty luck. Mentally it fucked me up for months in ways I didn't recognize until well after the fact.

And the thing is, almost every construction worker can tell you about the time they saw a fatal or near-fatal accident. An apprentice younger than me had a heart attack and was out of work for over a year after shocking himself on a live circuit. The woman who runs our apprenticeship program has a husband who had his arm blown off in an arc flash incident. One of my teachers had a coworker die after getting hung up on a live circuit and he wasn't found until the end of the day.

Construction is one of the single most dangerous industries to work in, and I believe this is why rates of drug and alcohol abuse and suicide are sky-high in the industry. I think many construction workers are low-key traumatized by knowing constantly that they could die or be permanently disabled due to a very simple mistake or oversight. It is simply inherently unsafe when you are working with live electricity, power tools, heights, thousands of pounds of machinery, cranes, etc. And so yes, I do believe that safety protocols and the ability to enforce them are absolutely necessary to preventing a massive amount of death. The number of worker deaths in the US has been slashed by 60% since OSHA was instated.

And so to get online and have someone who has never set foot on a jobsite in their life condescendingly explain to me that actually, we don't need OSHA or the ability to enforce safety standards because in a perfect world everyone will just suddenly start working perfectly safely, and I'm just too stupid or brainwashed to realize that The Real Villain Is Capitalism, and if we just get rid of that it will somehow also get rid of the inherent safety issues involved in the entire construction industry - well it turns out it pisses me off a little bit!

[fredwkong]

Angus, Beef

Dr. Angus Jacobson was a prodigy. At just 35, he was on the tenure track at a major university, researching intersectionality and climate justice. Some people thought it was strange that a straight white man from a middle class family had gone into the field, but Angus just laughed and said he had felt a calling.

Not only was he a great intellect, Angus was also always impeccably dressed in semi-formal or formal clothes. He loved wearing suits, or a polo shirt if it was hot, and keeping his hair short and professional. He thought that being presentable was a huge part of getting ahead in life.

As one of the foremost experts on climate justice in the country, Angus consulted with several large corporations on their eco-friendly projects. Often, that meant touring sites and giving recommendations on how to improve the design or the worksite conditions to better help people. He was always unfailingly polite to any workmen that he met while on his tours, but he found them hard to relate to. They just didn’t seem to have very complex life experiences compared to him. And even if they were working out in the heat all day, he couldn’t help but feel like they enjoyed being all sweaty and never using deodorant. The thought made his skin crawl.

One day, Angus was touring a site where a development company was building carbon neutral high rises. He had just finished speaking to the foreman and was walking away, taking notes on his tablet. The drainage system was going to need a big upgrade if the facility was supposed to stand up to the storms that occasionally came through.

Suddenly the foreman called after him. “Hey, Mr. Jacobson, you forgot this!” he yelled. He was a big, burly Black guy, and his voice carried across the whole site. Angus turned, surprised and a little scared. The foreman held out a small, folded piece of white cloth. Angus was sure he hadn’t dropped anything or handed anything off, but he took it anyway. He didn't want to say no to someone like this. It was strangely damp to the touch.

The foreman grinned at him. “See you ‘round, Mr. Jacobson,” he said, and walked away without another word.

Once he got into his car, a little European EV, Angus unfolded what turned out to be a white undershirt, wrinkling his nose at the thick scent of stale sweat and body odour it gave off. It certainly wasn’t his. Maybe it was some kind of prank? He could just throw it out when he got home. Angus tossed it on the passenger seat and started driving.

The smell was impossible to ignore. Even once he was back home, the shirt safely in the trash, Angus felt like it was following him from room to room, infecting everything he touched with the smell of unwashed man. Even after showering, applying fresh deodorant, and changing into his silk pyjamas, he swore the smell was still on him. He stalked restlessly from room to room, sniffing his pristine loveseat, his freshly ironed slate grey sheets, and his immaculate suit closet to try and find the source. Finally, he gave up, resolving that it was psychosomatic. He would just call the company tomorrow and complain about their foreman playing a prank.

The next morning, Angus was walked out of his bedroom confidently in his usual suit. He had completely forgotten the incident from last night. That is, until he walked into the living room to see a beat-up leather sofa in the place of his rarely-used loveseat, the white undershirt draped over the back of it. “What the fuck?” he breathed.

Angus never used his living room. If he wasn’t in his office, he was in his bedroom. He’d only used it for the few times a date had gone well, and a guy wanted to come watch a movie… Something about that line of reasoning felt wrong. He thought it through again.

Angus spent plenty of time in his living room. He had spent good money on a quality sofa to relax on. Guys loved it, too. They loved the feeling of leather against their backs while Angus pressed down on top of them.

Angus frowned. He was versatile, but he wasn’t the kind of guy to fuck on the first date… was he?

Anyway, he looked proudly at his sofa. What the hell was that grimy undershirt doing on it? He must have dropped it there on his way to put it in the garbage yesterday. He snatched it off—how was it still soaking wet with sweat?—and mentally promised that he would clean the couch after work. The shirt went back into the garbage and Angus headed off to the university.

When he got home that evening, he swore that his house still smelled like sweat. He found the shirt in his office, where he must have left it this morning. It was right where his antique phonograph had been… Where his weight rack was, draped over the back. Angus threw the shirt into the garbage, disgusted, then did his lifting while watching a lecture on climate stewardship. He was so glad he’d thought to put a rack of free weights in his office, it let him multitask so much better. He could tell it was having an effect, too, since his arms were looking bigger these days.

Once he was done his work, Angus found himself feeling horny and bored. It was unusual, since he usually ended his workouts grossed out by his own sweat, needing to shower and lie down… Of course, it was normal, exercising always energised him, and it was too early to shower. He headed out to a bar, and a few hours later Angus found himself lying on his couch, grinding against some hunk whose name he’d forgotten. After they came, Angus gave the guy a goodnight kiss and sent him home. He barely wiped the cum off his skinny chest before he fell asleep, forgetting to shower.

Things continued this way for a few days. Angus kept on finding the shirt, still wet, sitting on a his furniture. He kept on getting hookups, at least one a day. After a few days, he couldn’t smell the sweaty shirt anymore. Between his lifting bench, sofa, unwashed sheets, and dirty laundry bin, there was too much of his own smell in the house anyway. One morning, he found the shirt in his medicine cabinet, and he couldn’t find his deodorant… He had a big tub of curl cream, one of his hookups must have fixed their hair and forgotten it.

Angus found himself hooking up with Black guys more often. He’d never had a strong preference for any one race… He’d always loved big, thick Black men. He knew it was just a fantasy, but something about big, dumb Black guys appealled to him. He downloaded Grindr, found himself drooling over pics of thick men in construction gear.

Somehow, the undershirt was in his car one morning. In the place of his nice, planet-saving EV, there was a manual truck Angus had no idea how to drive... Angus loved his truck. He loved to feel like a real man on the road, even if the gas-guzzler did conflict with his morals. It was fine, though, he would just make sure his next car was an electric truck

One evening, Angus found the shirt on the floor of his closet. His precious suits were gone! Instead there was… The shirt had been hard to find, since most of Angus’s clothes were similar casual wear, half of it dirty on the floor of the closet. Even his work suits weren’t washed nearly often enough, giving off a bit of a stench. Every once in a while, Angus would see someone’s nostrils flare when they walked past him, catching his manly musk on the air. It gave him such a feeling of power and masculinity.

Lounging on his leather sofa in a pair of threadbare boxers, Angus was scrolling Grindr when he got a message. “Hey man, you ready yet?” It wasn’t from anyone he knew, except… It was from the foreman of the work site. His profile was full of pictures of him in hiviz gear, sweating in the hot sun. What could he mean? Maybe he wanted to do some roleplay. He was so hot, exactly what Angus loved imagining.

“Always ready for you, baby ;)” Angus messaged back. A few minutes later, he was texting the foreman his address, excited to see him again.

Just before he let the guy in, Angus realised he needed to put on a shirt. He had nothing clean. There was an undershirt sitting where his bedside table should be… Over his bong. He should wipe that down, see if the foreman wanted to smoke up after sex. He threw on the shirt and went to answer the door.

The foreman looked approvingly around Angus’s apartment. “Looking good,” he said, half to himself. He fisted a hand in Angus’s shirt, almost like he owned it, kissed Angus hard, filling Angus’s mouth with his huge tongue. “Seems to me that you’re way too white and educated for this house. Mr. Jacobson. You live like one of my labourers.”

Angus looked around. The foreman was right. For some reason, despite being a university professor, his house looked nothing like it. He didn’t have an office, just a home gym. He had no suits, no bookshelves, just casual gear and porn DVDs. Maybe it was all in at the university? That didn’t make any sense.

Before Angus could get too confused, the foreman grabbed him. He whispered in his ear, “Seems to me like you want to roleplay. You want to tell me you’re a big, dumb, sweaty construction worker, right, Mr. Jacobson? You want to fuck me with your big Black cock while still wearing your shirt?”

Angus did.

“You like that?” he growled a few minutes later, getting between the foreman’s legs. “I’m gonna open you up with my tongue. I didn’t get any fancy schooling to use fancy words, I just eat guys like you out like you've never been ate out before.”

He drove his tongue into the foreman's ass, enjoying the taste of his unwashed ass. As he did, Angus’s tongue lengthened, his lips darkening as his nose became wider. By the time he had the foreman moaning, his hole starting to gape, Angus’s face was black-skinned, his features strong and masculine.

“Yeah,” he grunted. His voice was deeper, slower. “I work hard in the heat all day, and I fuck hard all night. I sweat and leak so much I basically don’t need lube.”

Angus’s cock seemed to get even harder as he bottomed out in the foreman. He felt a burst of sensation as his foreskin grew back, a continuous stream of precum starting to leak from the tip. The skin around the base darkened, his hair growing in thick and black.

Angus started to rock back and forth as the foreman moaned underneath him. Having this burly Black man at his mercy made Angus feel even more confident. He continued roleplaying. “I’m such a thick Black construction worker, your cock gets caught between our sweaty bellies when I suck your neck. You’re gonna get off with your cock trapped between us.”

He leaned down and started to bite and lick at the foreman’s neck and collarbone as his chest and belly expanded. Angus’s skin darkened as hair grew thick over it, sweat beading as he fucked harder. Just like he’d said, the foreman’s cock was caught between their muscle guts, the foreman’s precum mixing with salty sweat to create the perfect friction.

Angus could feel the orgasm coming. He barely understood the words coming out of his mouth as he said, “Gonna pick you up and fuck you against the wall. I’m a big Black muscle bull, got no brains, just a big muscle ass and thick legs, so sweaty, dumb, smelly…” He trailed off, rocking back as he picked up the burly foreman like he was nothing, slammed him against the wall, and kept fucking.

He felt the foreman’s hands on his juicy muscle ass, tense and round as he rutted against the wall. Yeah, Angus’s body was the product of hard labour, a temple of Black manliness. He was glorious, a fucking god, he was… he was…

Angus came, filling the foreman up with shot after shot of thick Black cum. The foreman came too, his cock still pressed between their bellies, his cum soaking into Angus’s sweaty undershirt.

In a haze, Angus stumbled back from the wall, still holding the foreman off the ground. He collapsed onto the bed with a huge crash. Something had changed… Everything was fine… He was a beast… Angus fell asleep without pulling out.

The next morning, Angus “Beef” Jacobson woke up slow, enjoying the feeling of a mouth on his musty cock. Boss was so good with his tongue. “Morning, Boss,” grunted Beef.

Boss pulled off Beef’s big black cock with a pop. “Morning, Beef,” he growled. “Ready to head to the site?”

Beef grunted. He reached down, grabbed Boss by the shoulders, and dragged him up. “Not yet,” said Beef, lowering Boss onto his slick cock. He started moving his Boss up and down like a fleshlight.

Beef wasn’t the smartest guy. That was how he’d gotten his nickname, ‘cause he was like a big, sweet cow who loved to fuck. He was like a walking stereotype of a Black construction worker: burly, sweaty, musky, and totally dumb. Hell, he’d pretty much worn the same shirt for a week, an undershirt Boss had given him. It was so musky and smelly Beef was pretty sure anyone who touched it would be smelling him for weeks. That was a hot idea.

He didn’t really know much other than the physical stuff, but Boss told him he was helping to save the world, some shit about green buildings. Beef thought that was funny, since the building was grey concrete, not green. He was such a dumbass sometimes. Just a big piece of dumb Black Beef.

This story was part of a trade with @artificial-transmutations. See his half of our trade here.

[t00thpasteface]

"dni if you're over/under X age" hey did you know people can lie? and that there are a lot of very motivated people out there who want to hop turnstiles whenever possible?

if you want any semblance of privacy with what you post you need to just not post it. it's tumblr. things get reblogged. nonrebloggable things regularly get screenshotted and passed around, often out of spite. blog passwords get cracked. etc. you are kidding yourself if you think there is any boundary of any kind you can maintain/enforce on here. grapple with that and curate what you post accordingly, instead of trying to herd cats while you air every last piece of your dirty laundry for all and sundry

[chamerionwrites]

Intellectually I understand where people are coming from, but personally I do THE biggest double take every time someone boils down conservative Christian ideology (and/or secularized cultural reflections thereof) to a kind of dour puritanism that proclaims happiness is sin/suffering is a moral good/everyone should be miserable all the time. Like I get it! I do. But also, institutionally, I have never met a group of more passionate worshippers and vicious defenders of their own comfort than evangelical Christians. There is a reason the common thread between my various weird triggers more or less boils down to "toxic positivity." There is a REASON my exvangelical tag is #walking away from omelas.

[carsonian]

Y'ever think there's a subgroup of people in the MCU who when SteveTony get together are like:

[wildstar25]

MiqoMarch Day 26 - Faith

Though she is constantly reminded of her status being blessed by the goddess- Hydaelyn's chosen, as they called it - Arsay maintained a reluctance to allow her fate to be subject to the will of any higher being. Instead it is her friends, her family, whom Arsay puts her absolute faith in. Their bond is the greater gift by far.

[starleska]

losing my shit!!! i was so very convinced that my last ridiculous fictional crush of 2023 would be the Toymaker, severe as the brainrot has been and is...who could've guessed he'd be pipped at the post by Dr Fry, a man who brainwashes chickens 😂💖 my mind is a JOKE

[noisytenant]

The thing that I really love about the counselor scene is how, like most other things in Petscop, it walks an unplaceable line where you can't really determine if it's a "good" development or not.

Petscop (the story) strips the sense of safety and comfort from every major locus of stability available to a child. Home, family, and school become charged, but that's honestly not so surprising for those familiar with abuse. But then it erodes the world of games and play, where you aren't spared even in your "escape"--and systems that exist to get you help, like counseling or adoption, seem distorted, sinister, clandestine.

I do ultimately read the ending of Petscop as an optimistic one, where Care is adopted by Lina (and Belle) and is allowed to become Paul, who comes to confront and accept his past and maybe move forward. But I think it's critical that the adoption is beat-for-beat quite similar to the initial kidnapping, that there's this sense of greater machinations at work whose motivations can't be understood (the Credits ending left a real pit in my stomach; And what does it imply if Lina is the "Boss"?). We don't really get to know what Paul thinks or feels about all this, just that he kept playing until the end (and potentially against his will).

I don't think any other story has really captured how trauma makes it difficult to discern safety from danger in such an overt way. I haven't really experienced a story where you have to simultaneously hold both the best and worst interpretation of an event in equal measure. I think that's what makes Petscop such an exceptional story to me.

So that's the interesting thing about the counselor's affirmations. On one hand, after abuse that seems to have fixated on asserting one reality onto Care--that she was Lina reborn, and that she needs to be turned back--The idea of having one's own sense of reality affirmed is a breath of fresh air.

But at the same time, it places a lot of pressure to resolve ambiguities, to have answers for things that aren't fully known or are yet to be understood. If the whole world will move to make your story true, are you going to spin a happy tale, or a sad one? Is Care's escape a victory, or just a shifting from one kind of abuse to another?

The game obsessively records the player(s) arguably to extract information and become a source of truth. Where IS the windmill? Where is Lina's grave? What happened between Care's escape and her arrival at the house? The game seeks a certain reality, but codifies ambiguities and half-truths--explicitly requiring the player to hold multiple realities at the same time.

The player in the counselor's room is suddenly tasked with resolving these ambiguities, not necessarily through telling their story, but through living their life with the expectation of having it affirmed.

Yet by bestowing the player with the ability to assert their reality, the counselor actually reinforces the power of greater forces to enforce and manifest that reality. Even if it's wielded to positive ends, it's a terrifying notion.

You're free to do anything you please, but can you really bear to, knowing that something out there can make whatever you believe come true?

[thedreadvampy]

every time something from Neil Gaiman's tumblr crosses my dash I'm so concerned about the people writing and to him like. why have you outsourced your imagination to this man? asking shit like 'what does Morpheus sound like in this scene' or 'what does this dialogue mean' or 'what's the backstory to this moment' like BABES. THIS IS WHAT BARTHES WAS TALKING ABOUT. YOU'RE MEANT TO MAKE THESE DECISIONS YOURSELVES THAT'S WHAT MAKES ALL ART A COLLABORATIVE CREATION OF MEANING. if the author wanted something to be explicit in the text they can make it explicit in the text and if it's not explicit in the text YOU CAN MAKE IT UP.

what really gets me is I 100% prommy these kids regularly use 'death of the author' to mean 'i can enjoy works by problematic creators' which 1) yes I agree you can and should (using some discretion re who it profits and what's replicated in the work) but 2) THAT'S NOT WHAT IT MEANS LITERALLY WHAT IT MEANS IS. NEIL GAIMAN'S POST HOC OPINION ON SANDMAN OR GOOD OMENS IS A NO MORE LEGITIMATE FACT ABOUT THE TEXT THAN ANYONE ELSE'S INTERPRETATION. the text has left his control it belongs to the reader now, you get to decide and debate what it means.

[moggettt]

HERE IT IS!! after Many moons of chipping away at this OC song comic for my scifi-noir android character Whitney and his bodyguard Bast, it is finally as complete as it shall ever be;; I’m proud of the work I put into this one! Pretty niche, but maybe some folks out there will enjoy UuU

ps: there's also a video for easy viewing!

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Daisy Stephens

Published: Jul 24, 2022

The Black Trowel Collective, a group of American archaeologists, claimed there are suggestions that many historical cultures had more than two genders and so archaeologists should be "wary of projecting our modern sex and gender identity categories onto past individuals".

The group claimed scientists have a "long history of imposing modern patriarchal gender and sexual norms onto the past".

"Human gender is highly variable and... human beings have historically been comfortable with a range of genders beyond modern 'masculine' and 'feminine' binaries," the group wrote in a blog post.

The Daily Mail claims that some academics are beginning to label ancient human skeletons as 'non-binary' or 'gender neutral'.

The idea has been criticised by historian Jeremy Black, who said gender is key to understanding history.

"It is an absurd proposition as the difference between genders, just as the difference between religious, social and national groups, are key motors in history," he told the Daily Mail.

"This very ideological approach to knowledge means that we're in danger of making knowledge itself simply a matter of political preference."

==

Life continues to imitate parody. 🤡

"projecting our modern sex and gender identity categories onto past individuals"

Current gender woo is the invention and imposition of bored, modern first-world academic elites, which makes this absurdly ironic.

"we're in danger of making knowledge itself simply a matter of political preference."

This is literally the postmodern, social constructivist belief and objective.

No one ever needs to respond to this deranged ideology with anything other than "no."

[m-kyunie]

"The supposedly sealed memories of a miniature garden"

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

As much as i think toshiros complicity is based in his cowardice I do kinda get why he didnt talk to tade about what he thought abt how she views her retainership. Like even if he had that conversation like what could she do other than nod and smile—the power differential between them is huge. I feel something that plays into his conflict aversion is that if he did get upset or hit someone its not like they could hit back without serious consequences. But also he’s been raised in an environment where his comfort has always been prioritized above other ppls wellbeing and he def chooses the easier route A Lot. Like the fact that instead of genuinely engaging w whats going on w izutsumi and tade he ignored all his retainers, let maizuru handle it, and went on some two year spring break dungeon crawling whatever like words cannot describe what an abdication of responsibility this was. That instead of working w his party he went off on his own w his retainers bc he just didnt want them to know he was a noble that much (granted he also didnt think laios was cut out to lead which tough but fair) like cmon man…. But i do think his fight w laios was good for him even tho it was a shitty bitch fight when they rlly shouldve been helping their party revive ppl bc he could have a conflict on equal footing w someone. His whole life hes viewed himself as someone w no power (and the ways this is false esp on the island) but i think in the dungeon he realized he genuinely has a responsibility to his retainers n his actions led to them following him into something really dangerous when they had no dog in this. But also it seems as an attempt to reciprocate, he does seem to have become very observant of other people beyond what is normal bc he doesnt speak much. Culture plays into his clash w laios but i think the fact he’s grown up being so closely observed and in turn closely observes others plays into it too. But its fun how hes always toeing the line between being a spoiled brat, being too passive bc of his own lack of agency, n also that hes genuinely intelligent and has thought a really long time about power.

I think it also gets at why marcilles plan to equalize the races by making their lifespans the same was doomed to fail and also highlights how she can only view other ppls oppression thru her own suffering—that theres always going to be differentials in power that are difficult, but you have to interact meaningfully w them rather than running from them. A simple world w easy solutions like that would be bloodless and false, no?

[miiju86]

[alternativeulster]

habitual be is my favourite dialect feature of all time ever, bc it originates in BOTH hiberno-english (specifically scots-irish dialects) and AAVE, and while we don't know for sure if one influenced the other or not, the prevailing theory is that they evolved completely independent of each other. the irish language, and many caribbean languages, have native habitual markers!! there's no direct translation in english, so it's natural to use the verb "be"!! it's literally translating the conventions of a bunch of different native languages onto english to fill in a gap!!!