#experiencing so many horrors (history essay)

[biocrafthero]

Why Sunny’s Halloween costume is a mummy instead of a vampire

Okay strap in guys this is a long one

(Under a read more because I have lost my mind)

(Also for some stuff I’m using Wikipedia as a source this isn’t a professional essay or anything)

Something I have noticed with Omori fans is that, much like with other fandoms, people like to assign fun Halloween monsters to their favorite characters. For a character like Sunny, I have noticed that many people opt to make him a vampire, which is a choice that seems quite understandable. The idea of the modern vampire can be traced back to many different authors, the most popular one in the minds of most being Bram Stoker’s Dracula, which was published in 1897. Some of the visual and behavioral trademarks of a vampire has to do with things such as aversion to sunlight, pale skin, fangs, and the need to feast on the literal blood of others to stay alive. Vampires have always been considered undead, which aligns with their history throughout folklore; there were several instances where corpses were staked after being accused of vampirism.

Reading this, its easy to see why fans would assign a character like Sunny to the idea of vampires based on all of the common traits of vampirism. However, while I do enjoy AUs and such of a vampiric Sunny, I disagree with this common interpretation and instead propose the idea of Sunny being associated with a different kind of undead monster: the zombie.

(“But Kaun, didn’t you say in the title of this post that Sunny is associated with mummies?” Yes, but we’ll get there.)

The origin of the zombie can be traced back to several different sources throughout the world, the most well-known one being Haitian folklore during the 19th century. Regarding modern depictions, popularized by the film Night of the Living Dead, zombies tend to be slow, rotting, human undead (while it must be noted that undead animals isn’t particularly uncommon either). Much like vampires, zombies need to consume humans to survive, but the difference is that, while vampires only need blood in most depictions, zombies tend to eat all parts of the body. The idea of the brain being the specific target is something that’s only come up within the last fifty years throughout pop culture; adding to these newer additions, it was only within the last twenty or thirty years that the idea of the running zombie was introduced and subsequently popularized.

So what does any of this have to do with Sunny?

Well, thought Omori, we are shown clear evidence of why the idea of the zombie resonates with his character. The most obvious example is with Hellsunny, who can be found throughout the entire truth sequence, in some parts of Black Space, and in a very particular cutscene in the Hikikomori Route.

Now, while its easy for us to assume things from the POV of Sunny himself, sometimes its important to take into account the intent of the creator in order to interpret things such as this. So, once again, why a zombie?

Well, the choice of the zombie is quite obvious to me: the fact it is commonly referred to as the living dead. Now what does this allude to regarding Sunny? It most likely correlates with his emotions in the wake of Mari’s death, especially considering he’s the one who killed her in the first place. It is commonly said by people who have experienced the loss of a loved one feel as if they’re just drifting through life after their passing, and the same can definitely be said for Sunny. At the time the real world sections of the game take place, its been four whole years since the incident had occurred, and Sunny has both figuratively and literally wasted away in his own home. Characters comment on how he seems very skinny and/or frail, and how he clearly hasn’t been taking care of himself. In a way, its like a part of him died alongside Mari.

This is where we get to what some would consider to be an extension of the zombie archetype: the mummy.

Regarding its depiction in horror since the history of real mummies is an entirely separate conversation, the modern depiction of the (male) mummy can be found dating back to the 1932 film The Mummy. While most historical, real life mummies had their organs removed before burial, the mummy from the film (named Imhotep) was deduced to have been buried alive after it is discovered that its organs had not been removed at all. Now while the rest of the film’s plot isn’t quite as relevant to our analysis, I believe these details are important to note. The idea of the mummy being something sealed away, only later to be awoken again as some kind of living dead, is very interesting considering the parts of Omori that make this comparison to Sunny. The allusions to the idea of Sunny’s own home being some kind of coffin or tomb adds to these ideas.

This is why I think the vampire comparisons simply do not fit. The idea of the vampire inherently implies that the afflicted needs to take something from others in order to survive, and while the same can be said about zombies it must be noted that within recent years the idea of a kind zombie has been slowly making itself known. Additionally with mummies, aside from the blatantly orientalist bullshit regarding its history in pop culture, don’t tend to be depicted with having to consume any physical part of the human body (but physical violence in general is still on the table for them. They tend to be depicted as more on the level of vampires in terms of their intelligence).

In contrast, the living dead (referring to both zombies and mummies) tend to be much more passive. Most don't go out of their way completely to hunt humans, only hunting if one crosses their path—mummies even more so, with them not even needing human flesh to maintain themselves. When not hunting, these monsters tend to just... exist, not doing much of anything at all. They don't expend energy on actively looking for what they need to survive, instead opting for what they need to find them, wasting away all the while. And the thing is with zombies: they rot. They decay, bound by more realistic things than mummies are (which tend to be sustained my more magical elements in pop culture).

While the idea of having to actively go out and hurt others to sustain yourself is very interesting, when specifically regarding Omori’s canon, it doesn’t quite fit in line with Sunny’s character and his arc. In contrast, him neglecting his own needs and wasting away is more in-line with all of that, which is why he’s more commonly depicted as being a zombie or a mummy by official material.

I know this post is extremely long-winded, but I think this kind of analysis is very fun. Additionally, you don’t have to take my word as gospel, either. I enjoy AUs where Sunny is a vampire, since he’s in a position where he has to violate his own morals in order to sustain himself. I think it acts as a very interesting way to deconstruct his character, and to push him to his limits (including the brink of death if he refuses to hunt).

[mosthuggableffxiv]

As Promised: The G'raha Essay

Full text below

While initially pretty annoying in his debut questline of the Crystal Tower raids, G'raha Tia has proved himself to be the person in all 14 shards most devoted to the Warrior of Light. Not only was he willing to throw away his life in the present to protect the world from misuse of the Crystal Tower, but he then spent 100 years slowly and PAINFULLY turning into crystal and fusing with the Tower just to yank the Warrior of Light across dimensions to save both their life and the future of both the Source and the First.

We know from patch 5.3 that the crystallisation process is incredibly painful and draining on G'raha's body, and the poor thing is literally crying out in pain during some of those cutscenes. When we first encounter him at the start of 5.0 his entire right arm has already crystallised. Moreover, I'd like to draw attention to the fact that the crystallisation by this point is already encroaching into his face, and one can only imagine that the pain from that must have been unbearable. We can therefore deduce that G'raha Tia has spent a hundred years slowly and periodically experiencing the pure agony of his body literally turning to crystal while he attempted to transport the Warrior of Light across the Rift. Furthermore, as we have seen in the MSQ, drawing upon the aether of the Tower guarantees a burst of the crystallisation process, which means that every time he pulled a scion across the rift, including the WoL, he experienced indescribable pain.

Not only can we reflect upon the physical pain he has undergone for us, but he must have also gone through incredible emotional pain. Firstly, the horror of waking up in a world post eighth calamity, where everyone he knew is dead, but also discovering the horrific fate that had taken the WoL. That alone would be enough to break most people, but not G'raha Tia. This man then went on to survive in this post-apocalyptic hellscape, which we know was a world akin to the nightmarish landscape of the Fallout series, which can only have added to his trauma, but also managed to discover a way to change history and prevent those horrors from ever happening.

Moreso, upon arriving in the First, he not only survived another nightmare-fuel world full of sin eaters, but managed to build an entire city and community, all while spending A HUNDRED YEARS preparing for his own death just to save the WoL's life. How many people would be capable of doing that? Especially when they knew their plan did not even have a guarantee of success?

This man must have lost countless friends and loved ones spending an entire century building and leading the Crystarium. We know from how he took in Lyna that he did not isolate himself, and made himself beloved by the city's people. The emotional toll that each death and loss over a century must have taken is incredible. And if his plan had gone as intended, he would have done all this without his name or true identity being known or remembered for it, even by the person he was trying most of all to save.

And then, when his true name was called at the end, and his identity revealed, he cried. He has shown time and again that he allows himself to show emotional vulnerability; even after spending a century working in secret and suffering so much, he still was not afraid to cry. And not just then, but at the end of 5.0 and 6.0 as well. He bravely shows the WoL his whole self, rather than hide anymore.

After returning to the Source, we see a change in G'raha Tia that has only convinced me even more that he is the most huggable character in FFXIV. With a new, and unexpected, life ahead of him, we see a playfulness in G'raha that had been dampened before. We see adorable ear wiggles, and him allowing himself to fanboy and get excitable. We see him has cheeseburger... and it is glorious. It is so unabashedly cute, that even if we discounted all of the above he would still be the most huggable character in all of FFXIV. His little arm rub when he's nervous or embarrassed is too freaking cute.

In conclusion, G'raha Tia has faced unimaginable emotion and physical pain for over a century to save the future and the Warrior of Light. He survived immense trauma and still remains able to show his vulnerability and emotions, and look damn cute while at it too. Plus, fluffy ears and tail. I rest my case.

[sixty-silver-wishes]

Tumblr’s Guide to Shostakovich: An Uncomfortable Truth

Hello, everyone.

You may be wondering why I'm writing another essay on the subject of Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich today, right after another one I just finished recently. However, important information has come to light, information that cannot be ignored. As a researcher, it would be irresponsible and dishonest of me to hide this information from the public, especially on a subject I have devoted so much time and effort into researching. It pains me to reveal this information, but in the field of history, sometimes uncomfortable truths must be brought to light in order to further our understanding of the past. I have known this information for a very long time, and, I'm sorry to say, have withheld it from the public, as not to soil and degrade the image of such a beloved composer (although historically, plenty of people have soiled and degraded his image, so if that many people are doing it, it sort of seems like it might be fun), but I am done hiding this information and must share it with my devoted readers, lest they continue to consume lies, falsehoods, and half truths. I will waste no time in divulging this information to you all. To those of you whom, like I, love Shostakovich's music, I hope this revelation will not alter your view of those brilliant works which you hold in such high esteem.

The truth is this.

After three years of researching and analyzing sources, contacting experts, and learning as much as I could, I have come to this unavoidable conclusion-

Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich was a Tumblr Sexyman.

I know. It's very hard to process- I myself spent a very long time turning this devastating conclusion over and again in my mind, trying to think of another possible explanation. But the truth is, he fits all of the criteria and more to be considered one, and I can no longer ignore the truth and pretend it doesn't exist.

First, his physical appearance. Most Tumblr Sexymen, from The Lorax's Once-Ler to Hazbin Hotel's Alastor, wear dapper formalwear, often with coattails, a bow tie, and a button-up shirt. This is often the case as well with our dear Shostakovich. There are plenty of photographs out there of him in formalwear, playing the piano at concerts or conversing with fellow artists. His intellectual pursuits add to this qualification of seeming refined and classy as well- Shostakovich was an avid reader, and often quoted his favourite authors in conversation. His friend Isaak Glikman, perhaps the first person to observe Shostakovich's Tumblr Sexyman status, even notes this about his manner of dress in his younger years:

Some accounts portray the young Shostakovich as a puny, sickly weakling. This was far from the case. He was well-proportioned, slim, supple and strong; he wore clothes well, and in tails or a dinner jacket cut a most attractive figure.

Already, this reads like a fanfiction about any Tumblr Sexyman. In addition to the suit, Shostakovich was very pale and also wore his trademark round glasses, giving him a distinguished, intellectual appearance, and Glikman also cares to note his friend's "splendid head of light-brown hair, usually neatly brushed but sometimes 'poetically' dishevelled with a mischievous, unruly lock falling over his forehead." Indeed, Tumblr Sexymen often have playfully messy hair and sometimes distinctive eyewear, and Shostakovich is no exception.

But clothes do not a (Sexy)man make. A Tumblr Sexyman is not complete without a bit of darkness- sometimes an evil side belies their composed exterior, or, like Sans from Undertale, their goodness is tragically juxtaposed with some sort of great trauma they experienced in their backstory. Shostakovich seems to fit the second category, and as a result, was very withdrawn and mysterious. From a young age and well into his older years, he faced the deaths of loved ones, public humiliation, the horrors of war, constant thoughts of his own demise, numerous health issues, betrayals from friends, and of course, the ever-present demands of the Soviet regime. With most Tumblr Sexymen, a tragic history makes them intriguing to fans, and given the decades of musicological research and debate surrounding Shostakovich's own history and political ties, it seems his own backstory has proved to be compelling as well.

But a Tumblr Sexyman has ways of dealing with his troubles, and wouldn't you know it, Shostakovich fits this criteria as well. Tumblr Sexymen often have a sense of humour, joking and making sarcastic jabs to hide their pain and anxieties. They may give witty one-liners, tell puns, or even perform comedic or upbeat songs. And with Shostakovich, we see multiple accounts of his sarcastic humour, especially in his letters to Sollertinsky, a penchant for wordplay, even satirical musical pieces about his life experiences, like the "Antiformalist Rayok" and "Preface to a Complete Collection of my Works." He may not be singing about an evil plan like other Sexymen may, but the fact that these pieces exist certainly make it clear that he used music, comedy, sarcasm, and wordplay to cope with his anxiety or depression.

His chaotic unpredictability and political greyness clearly factor as well. While Shostakovich had a very strong moral center, his unique historical position in both expressing himself as an individual and an artist and being a dutiful servant of the regime meant he had a rebellious streak, which would surface when least expected. The composition of the joke-filled Ninth Symphony at the end of the war, for example, is seen by many as an act of rebellion, especially when compared to the earlier Seventh, and even in pieces like the Fifth Symphony, called a "response to just criticism" after the harrowing denunciations of 1936, subtle acts of resistance are interpreted in this work as well. Indeed, Shostakovich's political alliances are hard to place, and the fact that he lived by his own moral code first and foremost gives him an almost chaotic edge that would fit right in with any Tumblr Sexyman. Every time it seemed as if he had finally conformed to the expectations of the Party, Shostakovich would once again stir controversy with an innovative or subversive work, displaying a disregard for the strict rules of socialist realism underneath his quiet and unassuming exterior.

So yes, Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich was indeed a Tumblr Sexyman. He fits all the criteria, from his appearance, to his personality, to his backstory. I know this information may be hard to process, but it's the truth. But perhaps I'm overstating things. After all, as one of the greatest Tumblr Sexymen of all time once said, "how bad could it possibly be"?

(Happy April Fool’s Day! If this looks familiar, I posted it to my Reddit a few years back.)

[metaviclopsan]

Death

It makes me curious to think about the connection between rain and sadness. A sad day for me is not necessarily a rainy day, although in some way, a rainy day does bring a certain melancholy with it. Could it be that we are compelled to restrain our desire to go to the beach or the pool for a dip, or is it that tea, hot cocoa, and coffee with cinnamon are drinks with a melancholic and bitter taste?

According to ChatGPT, sadness is a complex and common emotion experienced by humans and, in many cases, also by some animals. It is a normal emotional response to situations of loss, disappointment, or the inability to achieve desired goals, among other circumstances. So, is it that sadness arises when rain represents the antithesis of the global and subjective concept of a sunny and happy day? Is a hot tea the counterpart of a sweet and joyful ice cream on a summer day?

Honestly, today I don't have the energy to wander and get lost in these questions. Today is a rainy day, today is a sad day.

In his essay on the festivities surrounding death in Mexican tradition, "Todos Santos, Día de Muertos," Octavio Paz mentions that the present is the reconciliation of the past and the future. However, what happens when my future cannot reconcile the people we have near? These are thoughts that consumed me and kept me from falling asleep when I was a child. A childhood past that resurfaces when I think of the horror that invaded me when considering that my present could be myself, trapped in a box, dead, remembering and watching my former life pass by. This metaphysical conflict is common when a child first confronts our immediacy and transience. But I am no longer a child, and what now keeps me awake is perceiving and capturing my past, my future, and my present in this text, as this text will be eternal. Even if it is erased from the memory of any being or device, it may be reborn in a specific permutation in a distant library that Borges would describe in his texts. Besides fearing that eternity, I feel a sincere dread of the indecorous distance that exists between any pair of points in time. Change in relation to time seems terrifying to me, and the only thing that allows me to live in peace is the ease with which it is carried by the mass in general. This is possible thanks to the numerous tools that provide distraction and a path with decisions that feel like yours but are shared by many. A manageable path, a path that has been appealing at different points in my life but has not yet been fully traveled.

These temporal distances feel even farther when combined with spatial distances. Observing two points in space-time and comparing them has never been so easy in the history of humanity, but despite the tools that allow it, there are still many inherent things that we do not fully perceive in our daily lives. Between time zones and countries, we only complicate everything further. And now, nostalgic for a life that no longer exists, that distance ironically feels so immediate. That spatial, temporal, and, most importantly, life's distance.

[renbennett]

Manzanar trip essay

For my brief I’ve been trying to somehow capture the scale to which the US government has used policy to enable maltreatment of Asians in America. It was very constructive for me to visit Manzanar because as a privileged white person I am very disconnected to mistreatment in our country. I’ve never experienced living conditions comparable to Manzanar and am able to live without fear; knowing that my citizenship is validated by my skin color in this country. It is incredibly disturbing how easily an entire country backed up its governments’ decision to displace so many of its own citizens because of the color of their skin.

We’ve been reading a lot about the Model Minority Myth and while at Manzanar we got to see a lot about how people were reacting within the camps. We watched videos depicting people’s well-kept spaces and walked along the bridges where they had once grown gardens. We’ve heard a lot about how people adapted to camp because, well what else are they supposed to do? People made these spaces livable for themselves because that’s what people do. That doesn’t mean that people weren’t struggling. Most of the video footage we see is of people living peacefully, but what about the riot? I did not know about the riot until we visited Manzanar and it did not appear to be an isolated incident. If any person is mistreated for an extended period, they are going to have a reaction. The model minority myth seeks to demonize the struggle many people of color face when living in a country that does not seem to respect their citizenship or natural rights. Asians have been used by white people to tear black people down, and saying that it’s okay if we treat people of color poorly, because if they’re “good enough” they can handle it. Painting Asian people as this model minority allows America to ignore the hundreds of thousands of displaced peoples who lost their entire livelihoods to the internment camps because hey, they’re tough. People think of it as almost pro-Asian to put them in a box like this but it neglects their very human reactions to what happened in an attempt to minimize the horror of what took place.

It’s not surprising how easy it is for white people in America to forget about the internment camps given our government's history of vast mistreatment. The US government is no stranger to forcibly removing people from their homes for their own financial gain, pedaling racism to gain support. Before WW2, Native Americans had been forced off of their land so white people could come populate the area and black people were expected to maintain the land for them. Both groups were treated with extreme violence that they justified with prejudice. Black people, Asian people and Native Americans are still targeted by the US government today and are all groups that are disproportionately targeted by the police. One of the brilliant things about our prison system is that the government found a way to have its cake and eat it too. The prison industrial complex allows for modern day slavery under the name of “justice”. People are treated like animals, kept in cells, fed terribly, and are unable to hold positions that pay more than a dollar an hour, and white people don’t generally have a problem with this because of the way that POC are demonized by our own government. Asian, black and Native American people have been cut down at the knees and have not been afforded anything near equal opportunity, pushing them into poverty and making it easier for them to be marginalized.

Seeing the monument in Manzanar, surrounded by graves of people long gone served as perspective for the time that has passed. We were in the museum of the camp that once was, learning about dark histories from long ago, but what has really changed? People are still being killed and mistreated for being Asian in our country. It’s helpful to have these monuments and it’s necessary that we remember but what has really changed? We don’t need harsher rules or more policies written by people who don’t understand the needs of the people, we need to cut this problem out from the root. The systems that allowed for people to have their entire lives ripped apart are still alive and well.

I’ve had a lot of difficulty coming up with my theory of change as an artist because these systems are so large and ingrained but I believe that if we reorganize our government budget, we could have real change. When people were released from the internment camps they were given 25 dollars and a train ticket. Finally in the 80s, reparations were sent out, but many people did not receive them, and it wasn’t going to change anyone’s lives, let alone years of trauma and financial setbacks because of the government. Despite what the model minority myth tries to pedal, there is a large Asian American population living in poverty (as well as other POC disproportionately to white people) and a way to balance this out could be by using taxes to go towards community projects and social programs for low income areas as opposed to stricter law enforcement, imprisoning more and more POC so people can continue to be used for manual labor.

[the27percent]

01, 17

'Childhood'

These early days, these incredibly early days. When formlessness was their default, there wasn't much to speak about or many means to 'speak' even if they wanted to do so. Yet, the fact that so much was starting to take place - the explosions, the collisions of different matter had Atieno on high alert. They felt themself impacted, pushed and pulled about just so by those constant changes.

There had been little room for them to even process these changes, with so much changing moment by moment. They figured that this had to be fascinating, absolutely fascinating.With time, they realized.. maybe they weren't being drawn every which way.. but was partially doing the pulling together. That notion alone had them 'wondering' about what exactly they were and what exactly was going on at this time.

It's only when they started to sense the presence of other entities - large, experienced, massive entities that they found something that could be 'kinship'. Of course, there weren't words for such things at the time. But given that they were being drawn to these figures, and these figures seemed to resonate with their own formless nature at the time - it had to speak to something more. Something more that was coming together at the time.

Books my character reads.

Atieno has been something of a voracious reader ever since they got familiarized with the notion of reading. Initially their focus was a lot on history and literature, trying to get a sense of how different civilizations, different people understood themselves and their surroundings. Anything that would provide context to some of the observations that that they had seen over the years.

From there they branched out into even more fiction - horror, scifi,.. along with developing a taste for poetry and personal essays just because the perspectives that could be shared has been very useful for them. They also got into learning about technical and sociological developments.

So .. honestly, they would find anything to read if they really were interested in it. I would say by default thought, they are reading a lot of sociology, personal essays, folklore, miscellaneous novels and shore stories (speculative fiction really intrigues them)

[thinktosee]

JAMES BALDWIN – NOTES OF A NATIVE SON – EXCERPTS

James Baldwin (1924-1987) was arguably one of the most potent, articulate, incisive, analytical and accomplished American social commentators of the post-World War Two era. I cannot, in all honesty claim to know with any depth, Baldwin, or his invaluable works to modern literature and social reform. He was one of those transient beings, a shooting star, if you will, like David was, who while he glided ever so brightly, yet tentatively, through the night’s sky, never failed to mesmerize and also to taunt us with the sureness of his fated path, and mission. Such was Baldwin to me, when as a teen in the 1970s, I first came upon tiny, yet enervating bits of his essays on American society, more precisely to that never-quite-outed horrors of slavery and its unmistakable corollary -  to be black and seemingly, never whole.

Recently, I had a yearning for Baldwin. Or perhaps his uniquely-engendered narratives to the ills which plagued American society. There are, I feel, legitimate reasons for this urgent dialing for Baldwin. The world, as we experience it in present times, has rapidly unified, or to put it bluntly, regimentally uniformed, as a consequence of a variety of factors, among which the concerted and prolonged global covid lockdown recently was but its latest and perhaps, most destructive manifestation. Baldwin, like Nobel Prize recipient, Albert Camus through his anti-fascism and anti-totalitarian novel, The Plague, of which we had featured tentatively on this website not long ago, cautions us, the reader, to be mindful especially of the bitterness and hatred which may first inhabit and then explode within our self, as a result of our failure or reluctance to address, in whole, the question of social injustice within our society. In this aspect, Baldwin feels history has to be reworked and retold, with all its unpalatable gory, and less about its mythological glory in apparent partnership with faith-founded charity.

Notes of a Native Son, which was published in 1955 could have been one of those stingingly voluminous essays imitated from the Victorian era, but which instead, in the masterful hands (and mind) of Baldwin, was delicately and artfully compressed, like an accordion, to 21 pages or so, to produce the most surreal, yet unimpeachable enactment of racial relations in America within the context of African-American family life and social structure. It continues to amaze me to this day, that Baldwin was not awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature for his works. Nevertheless, nothing is ever cast in stone which cannot be removed or deleted as an afterthought. To this end, the Nobel Prize Committee is encouraged herein to consider a posthumous award to Baldwin. His literary works to this day continue to inspire and impel many, including this writer, to confront injustice and social inequality anywhere, without equivocation. There are numerous excerpts of the essay which are worthy of sharing here. However, these few, I am convinced should suffice to lay bare Baldwin’s philosophically-mined, yet socially amenable beliefs :

“When he died, I had been away from home for little over a year. In that year I had time to become aware the meaning of all my father’s bitter warnings, had discovered the secret of his proudly pursed lips and rigid carriage. I had discovered the weight of white people in the world. I saw that this had been for my ancestors and now would be for me an awful thing to live with and that bitterness which had helped to kill my father could also kill me.” (1)

“I knew about jim crow but I had never experienced it. I went to the same self-service restaurant three times and stood with all the Princeton boys before the counter, waiting for a hamburger and coffee; it was always an extraordinarily long time before anything was set before me; but it was not until the fourth visit that I learned that, in fact, nothing had ever been set before me; I had simply picked something up. Negroes were not served there, I was told, and they had been waiting for me to realize that I was always the only Negro present.” (2)

“Perhaps the most revealing news item, out of the steady parade of reports of muggings, stabbings, shootings, assaults, gang wars and accusations of police brutality, is the item concerning six Negro girls, who set upon a white girl in the subway because, as they all too accurately put it, she was stepping on their toes. Indeed she was, all over the nation.” (3)

“Perhaps the best way to sum all this up is to say the people I knew felt, mainly, a peculiar kind of relief when they knew that their boys were being shipped out of the south, to do battle overseas. It was perhaps, like feeling the most dangerous part of a dangerous journey had been passed and that now, even if death should come, it would come with honor and without the complicity of their countrymen. Such a death would be, in short, a fact with which one could hope to live.” (4)

“It began to seem that one would have to hold in the mind forever two ideas which seemed to be in opposition. The first idea was acceptance, the acceptance totally without rancor, of life as it is, and men as they are: in the light of this idea it goes without saying that injustice is a commonplace. But this did not mean that one could be complacent, for the second idea was of equal power: that one must never in one’s own life, accept these injustices as commonplace but must fight them with all one’s strength.” (5)

 Sources/References

1. Baldwin : Collected Essays. p65. Edit. Toni Morrison, Library of America, 1998

2. Ibid. p69

3. Ibid. p73

4. Ibid. p74-75

5. Ibid. p84

[sokkabaddiebender2021]

An ATLA Rant: Imperialism & Nuance

Just to start off, this is coming from a girl who’s grandmother was Filipino. No, I have not personally experienced imperialism in my lifetime, but it is a subject that I think is very serious and important to me because of my heritage.

That said, I have absolutely zero idea how you could watch avatar: the part airbender and come out of it saying that it is pro imperialist. Absolutely zero.

I agree because this is a pan Asian inspired show that was written was created by two white men (with the help and advisement of several poc as well but that is a topic for another time), people, especially people of color, have every right to be critical of it. But this argument that the show is somehow pro imperialist just doesn’t make sense to me.

The fire nation is in the wrong. The show makes that VERY clear. Their actions towards other nations is called out by several characters (Zuko, Roku, etc). Their destruction of other cultures (southern water tribe, air nomads, attempted earth kingdom) are seen as diporable and downright inhuman. Not only that, but we see the devastation this cultural genocide brings upon main characters like Katara and especially Aang and how they must heal from it.

Moving on, the show absolutely was not teaching people to stand docile and peaceful against their oppressors. Katara and Aang literally destroy a whole fire nation factory!! When the fire nation was attacking the northern air temple, they were kicking their asses off the cliff!! They planned a whole invasion to attack the fire nation capital to end the war!! (Let’s not forget Katara incititing a riot against the fire nation in the imprisonment episode with the earth benders). I could on and on about all the times the gaang meets the fire nation with violence and encourages others to fight back against them, but that would be going wayyy too in depth.

I think where people get far too simplistic here is that they think that atla is telling people to not use violence against their oppressors because the show is critical of people like Jet and Hama. First of all, the characters are given a lot of nuance in the show. Both are introduced with tragic backstories of the horrors that the fire nation inflicted upon them (I still get chills with the scene when Hama explains her story).

Despite this, both characters have every chance to use their abilities to fight back against the fire nation in a way that helps. You know, like fighting against the army and not innocent people who have no idea that the fire nation is actually in the wrong. The narrative is not that violence is bad! Peace is the only way! I think it’s that you can’t let your veagance lead you away from fighting the right people. That’s the issue: neither Jet and Hama were fighting the right people.

And we first see both characters fighting soldiers in their first scenes. Hama in the flashback when she’s defending her home (and rightfully uses violence to do so) and Jet when he helps the gaang take down some fire nation soldiers in the forest. This is just violence directed at the right people. But instead, both attempt to murder and in Hama’s case, torture people who take no part in the atrocities the fire nation has committed. Are they ignorant? Well of course they are because as we very obviously see, they’ve been fed propaganda their entire life while also living under an authoritarian regime, something that’ll give you no will to think other than the things that are spoon fed to you.

So let me ask you this, was it right for Jet to try and murder an entire village of innocent people, literal children included? Was it right for Hama to imprison and torture lord knows how many innocent citizens just because they belong to an nation that they have no actual knowledge of its evil? I’m hoping your answer is no, and the show would also say no as well.

When both Katara and Aaag choose not to kill, the narrative is not saying that they shouldn’t kill these men. The narrative allows both characters to make their own choice in what ways they wish to do, and it has nothing to do with what is actually right or wrong, because ultimately it is up to what each character wishes to do. Katara sees Yon Ra as the pathetic old man that he is, so she sees no purpose or healing for herself in taking his life. This is a personal choice made for herself, and that is all that matters.

The same goes for Aang. This poor boy is desperate to uphold the beliefs of his people, so he finds another way. A way that still upholds his beliefs while still ending the tyranny of Firelord Ozai. It is ridiculous to say that this is a passive take to imperialism, because yes he doesn’t literally murder someone but he still takes the dude out. And honestly, Ozai’s fate is worse then death (especially considering who Ozai is). Once again, the narrative is not saying be passive to your oppressors and don’t use violence. Its saying that because Aang is living in a world where his beliefs have been forcefully removed and disrespected, he has every right to continue to defend them in the ways he sees fit.

While some may see the narrative as more sympathetic to Iroh and Zuko, I think it’s just because they ARE some of the main characters of the show, as compared to those like Jet and Hama. We see much more of their story just as we see much more of the gaang’s story. Not only that, but their narrative purpose is far different from these two other characters. Iroh and Zuko are meant to show that despite them being from the fire nation, they are not inherently evil people. Jet and Hama are meant to show that even while they are against the antagonistic force of the show, they still can commit evil. Not only are Iroh and Zuko’s actions never justified, but they both must go on a journey to unlearn the hateful propaganda instilled into them, and remedy their ignorance. The narrative never says that neither Jet and Hama cannot also redeem themselves, but Hama feels no remorse for her actions, and Jet does attempt to redeem himself, but ultimately falls back into old habits (I believe he could’ve redeemed himself, but I’ll agree the writers were a bit sloppy in his end, like I’m not sure why they had to kill him other than to make him a tragic character but whatever).

To finally wrap up this essay, ATLA is not a black and white show. The show is not pro imperialist for condemning the violent actions of two characters who happen to be victims of imperialism. The show is not pro imperialist for allowing two children to decide for themselves whether or not they want to end the lives of someone. The show is not pro imperialist for not making the antagonist of the show a one note and one dimensional bad guy.

I’ll end this with the speech that Zuko makes to Ozai when he prepares to leave on Day of Black Sun:

No, I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it! We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.

[daveed-diggs-imagines]

A Little Illegal: Daveed x fem!reader

Smut! 18+ reccomended 

warnings: rough sex, large age gap, professor-student relationship

Summary: A highschool senior begins taking college courses. She never thought she’d enjoy her new professor so much...

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You had worked hard and kept your grades up to start taking some college classes throughout your senior year to get credits. You had signed up for any government or history-related classes you could get in hopes of filling your mind with as much information as possible before you graduate. You didn’t know many students who had signed up for the same classes as you which only heightened your anxiety. Not to mention the horror stories you had heard from some of the other students who had dealt with some of these professors before. You just hoped if you did the work and kept quiet it wouldn’t be a problem.

The bus that was transporting you and some other students arrived and harshly jerked to a stop. You stood up incredibly unconfidently and grabbed your bag. You shuffled off the dulled yellow ride and followed the small map you had in your hand. Luckily, you weren’t running late and were ahead of what was previously planned by ten minutes. You weave your way through puzzled kids and easily find your room. No one else is around so you nervously turn the handle and walk-in.

The first thing you notice is a tall man with glasses and amazing natural hair. He is not focused on you as he scribbles notes down on a post-it.

“U-um, hi,” you stutter, causing the man to look up. “You are Mr. Diggs, correct?”

“Uh, yeah, and you are?” he asks, a puzzled look on his face. He hadn’t seen you on campus before.

“I’m y/n l/n, it’s nice to meet you,” you say, walking over and reaching out your hand for him to shake.

“Ah, are you new here?”

“Yeah, in a sense,” You laugh, assuming he already knew you were with the high school.

“Well then y/n, come by my office after class and I can give you the rundown of this place, yeah?” he suggests.

“Yeah, that would be wonderful, thank you, Mr. Diggs.”

“Daveed is fine,” he says. “ ‘Mr. Diggs’ doesn’t sound right coming from your mouth.”

“Oh yeah, of course Daveed,” You say, deciding you like the way his name sounds rolling off your tongue. You turn away from him and walk over to the plethora of seats. Damn, she has a nice ass too.

“Sit here,” Daveed says, walking up behind you and pointing towards one in the front row.

“Are you sure?” you ask, not knowing if you want to be right in the middle of everything.

“You seem like you’ll be a great addition to this class and I don’t want to miss your thoughts,” he simply states, watching you sit down and pull out your laptop seemingly ready to take notes.

“Prepared, I like it.”

“Eh, I guess, I’m still pretty nervous though,” you admit, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“Don’t be. I’m always here if you need anything.”

He finishes talking as you hear the door burst open, several people coming in. Most of them rowdy and of the male gender.

“Gentlemen,” Daveed says, nodding at the group.

“Ayyy, it’s Diggs,” one of them yells, slamming his stuff down next to you. A look of irritation forms on your new professor's face at the sound of his voice.

All of the group follows the leader and set their bags and themselves down around you. You’re nervous at their actions knowing that they didn’t seem the most trustworthy.

“Hey, who are you?” one of them asks, leaning closer.

“Someone that wants you to leave them alone.”

“Ooh, c’mon, just play along, yeah?” he smiles, hand now resting closer to yours.

“No thanks, I’m okay,” you tell him, hoping he’ll take a hint.

“Yeah right, you sat right in the middle in the front row. You love this attention, don’t lie,” he concludes, making his friends snicker. You jerk your hand away and sink back in your seat. You figure they aren’t going to stop so ignoring them seems like the best option.

“Aww, c’mon, I just wanna have a little fun,” he says, hand now resting on your knee.

You all hear someone loudly clear their voice and everyone’s head jerks up.

“No means no,” Daveed declares, making direct eye contact with the boy who was previously harassing you. The boy doesn’t have a response as he crosses his arms and leans back.

“Why don’t you go sit somewhere else?” he more demands than suggests. Without a word, the group gets up and moves to a section in the back, far away from any authority figures.

“You good y/n?” Daveed asks, feeling guilty for telling you to sit up front for his selfish reasons.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little startled.”

He then grabs your bag and moves it over to a seat in the lower corner.

“The bulk of people sit in the middle so this way you shouldn’t be bothered,” he explains as you move over to sit down. He stares down at you for a moment.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have told you to sit there if I knew what they would do," he apologizes, running a hand over his hair.

“No, don’t worry, it’s not your fault,” you laugh. “Honestly, you would think they would be more mature.”

“Yeah, you would think.”

You had sat through the whole class and surprisingly wasn't bored to death. Even though most of it was just introductory, Daveed had a voice that was just captivating and you were looking forward to coming back. You shove everything into your bag before getting up and stretching. You begin to walk towards the door when you hear someone call your name. You turn around and see Daveed, having forgotten he wanted to talk with you in his office.

“You still want to talk?” He asks.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, great, just give me a quick second and I’ll meet you in there. You can make yourself comfortable while you wait,” he tells you gesturing towards a door off to the side.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” you respond, going over and walking in. Everything looks like a standard office. A desk with two chairs in front of it along with a couch towards the wall. Tons of books on shelves or stacked on stands. The atmosphere was romantic with the dim lighting and brown undertones set through the small space. There’s a hint of a woodsy smell that’s more calming than overwhelming.

After waiting for five minutes you begin to grow bored and gaze around from the seat you took in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Nothing new seems to pop out at you but curiosity still gets the best of you and you stand up and walk around the desk to snoop. All there seems to be is essays, not that you were expecting much else. The only thing that interests you is a spinny office chair the was positioned directly behind you. So what other choice is there besides sitting down and well, spinning?

You can’t help but laugh at how childish you must seem as you push on the desk to gain momentum.

You barely have time to enjoy yourself when the chair is suddenly halted to a stop. You looked up to see Daveed looking down at you, holding the chair still, hand right next to your head, catching some of your hair with it.

“Comfortable?” he asks, seemingly growing closer. Damn, he smelled amazing. You sit there and stare up at him, forgetting you were asked a question. You grip slightly onto the arms of the chair, growing nervous.

“I asked you a question, y/n,” he whispers, his mouth now next to your ear.

“Fuck uh, y-yeah, I’m great,” you stutter, clenching your legs. Were you really turned on right now? He’s your new professor who’s probably twice your age and you’re ready to strip right here and now.

“Oh, oh god, I’m so sorry Daveed I-”

“That’s Mr. Diggs to you,” he growls, his lips now grazing over your ear as he speaks.

“O-of course, Mr. Diggs,” you comply, eyes wandering down his body. His shirt seems to show far more muscles than earlier. But you weren’t complaining.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Daveed whispers, mouth moving to yours to capture you in a kiss. It’s not gentle nor rough but has a sense of lust you'd never experienced before. You don’t even know this man and you were letting him have his way with you in an unlocked room on the campus of a school. You know this isn’t right. Hell, this isn’t even legal but right now you’re thinking with the dampness in your panties not the good judgment in your mind.

He continues moving his lips on yours and pulls you up so you’re standing against him. He walks back toward the couch, mouth not leaving yours once. He still has some of your hair tangled into his hand from when he had stopped the chair earlier. He uses it to his advantage and pulls on it suddenly, making your head jerk back and you’re mouth open. You moan when he slides his tongue in. You’re lowered onto the couch, him starting to slightly lean over you.

He pushes you down completely, straddling one of your legs. You move your knee up spreading your legs a little more and feel something hard graze against you. You know you should stop but you forget about thinking when he starts to reach his hand down the waistband of your jeans. Your breath hitches and you can feel him smile against your mouth.

“Damn y/n, I didn’t know I could get you like this so fast,” he whispers, voice husky.

“Of course you wouldn’t know. You know nothing more than my name at this point,” you pant while beginning to lift the edge of his shirt.

“Well I’d love to get to know you but I’m a little busy right now,” Daveed jokes, struggling to rip off your too-tight jeans. You swiftly remove his shirt as he finally strips you of your only layer of clothing- you decided not to wear panties that day.

“Are you ready?” he asks while undoing the belt holding up his slacks. You give a small moan in agreement as you see his dick nearly protruding out of his boxers. Without notice Daveed drops his remaining clothing and grabs the back of your head, gripping a fistful of hair and pulling. He pulls you closer to him as he uses his other hand to position his cock against your lips. You expect him to let you take the lead and you prepare to welcome him into your mouth. His grip on you tightens. Daveed slams himself into your throat and you let out a gag. This wasn’t your first time but it feels different than before.

You had watched porn scenes like this but never imagined it would be happening today. And not at 18 years old with your new professor. The onslaught continues as you feel his cock stretch your throat with every forceful pound. Your saliva and Daveed's sticky precum are dripping down your chin as you try to swallow. You can barely breathe much less swallow the fluids combining in your mouth. You were in pain what felt like everywhere. Your hair, your neck, your head, and anywhere that was being forcefully moved and penetrated by Daveed. But you loved it. You relished in the sting of your hair being pulled and your face being fucked.

Daveed begins to slow down and releases his grip on your head. You take in a deep breath and wait for the next act. Daveed moves quick, tearing off your shirt and pulling your bra off over your head. He pushes you back on the couch and moves down to your sopping pussy.

“I’m going to fuck your little cunt up so bad,” He growls. You watch as he slowly runs his tongue over his lips before he uses his fingers to sperate the lips of your pussy.

You shudder at the small touch bracing yourself for what’s next. Daveed opens his mouth, consuming your cunt in a sloppy kiss. His tongue lands on your swollen clit as he begins sucking and flicking all-around your sensitive ball of nerves. You try and keep quiet, reducing your moans to muffled groans. You bite the back of your hand as you feel a finger slip inside of you. You had only ever fucked boys who couldn't find a way to please you. This was what you needed; a mature man to make you feel something worth screaming over.

Daveed's finger begins thrusting faster as he slips another inside you. You lay there squirming and whining like a little puppy as the pleasure continued consuming your body. Then He added a third finger. It had been a while since you last had a dick in you and you could feel your pussy stretching to accommodate the new addition. You begin thrusting into Daveed as you feel your body ready to explode.

Daveed senses your body close to climax and abruptly stops. He rips his fingers out of you and stuffs them inside your panting mouth.

“Lick it off, get a good taste of yourself you little slut,” he growls, leaving his fingers in your mouth and gripping your chin to close your mouth. You begin sucking your juices from his fingers and move your hand down to your cunt. You felt so close and you just needed to keep going. Daveed notices your hand traveling down and wastes no time removing his hand from your mouth and pinning your hands above your head. He says nothing as he reaches to the floor to grab the belt he was previously wearing. It all happens so fast you can barely squeak out a word before your hangs are stuck tied above your head.

“Don’t try that again,” Daveed scolds while wiping his hand against your stomach to remove any of your remaining juices.

“O-oh I’m sorry Mr. Diggs,” you cower, showing the best puppy dog eyes you can muster. Daveed stares down at you for a moment before reaching into his discarded pants pocket.

“I’m on the pill,” you inform him, smiling slightly as his face lights up. You were excited to feel all of him raw inside you.

“Good girl,” Daveed tells you. He smooths down the stray hairs on your head and lines up his throbbing cock to your cunt. You honestly weren’t sure it would fit without tearing apart your insides. You didn’t get a chance to prepare yourself before he sinks halfway inside you. You let out a forceful breath, feeling a euphoric mix of pain and pleasure. Daveed lets out a small grunt and slightly pulls out of you.

“Be quiet,” he sternly warns you. You slightly nod and ball your fists as much as you can while tied above your head. Daveed slams back into you. this time forcing as much inside you as he can. You let out a gasp as he begins roughly thrusting his large cock inside you. You let out a moan; this one a little too loud. Daveed doesn’t hesitate as he wraps his right hand around your throat and slightly applies pressure. you throw back your head in immense pleasure reveling in the gentle pain.

Daveed moves his free hand to your clit and begins quickly rubbing his hand side to side against your clit. His intense thrusting continues as you try and contain your moans and noises. You can’t help but let out a small shriek as you feel yourself begin to unravel. Daveed tightens his grip around your neck, this time applying enough pressure to make it hard for you to breathe. You thrust your hips to meet him feeling every nerve in your pussy being abused by his cock. Every part of you tenses and you feel a release coming. Daveed removes his hand from around your neck and groans at the sudden lightening of your pussy.

“Shhh,” you hear whispered into your ear as you explode, your juices combining with Daveed’s. He thrusts into you while you both climax while muffled moans fill the dim room. Daveed quickly pulls out of you and begins undoing the belt still strapping your hands together.

“You good?” he asks. You look up at him still breathing heavily, the events catching up to you. “Um, yeah, I’m just... yeah I’m good,” you reply, not sure how to answer. You sit up and bend down to collect your discarded clothing. You slip on your jeans and the rest of your clothes, not sure if he expected you to stay.

“Come here for a sec,” Daveed tells you, walking to his desk. You follow him unsure of what's coming next. He looks up at you and reaches up and begins smoothing your messy hair. “We don’t want anyone getting suspicious,” he states. He gives you a small kiss on your forehead.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything?” he asks.

“No I’m totally good,” you assure, smiling up at him.

“Good girl,” he tells you right as a loud knock comes from the door.

“I should get going.”

You grab your bag and quickly shuffle to the door. You open it to see an older man waiting. He must have been another professor.

“Same time next week?” Daveed asks loudly from across the room.

“Of course!” You say back, smirking as you reach for your phone to put the meeting into your calendar.

[voidingintotheshout]

Black History Month Public Domain Reading List

I’d seen a list floating around the internet with links to pirated books by black writers of note for black history month. I felt that it was problematic to be sharing something that’s disenfranchising black writers when there are a lot of great books by black writers to read that are in the public domain and free to read. I compiled this list of books by various black writers of note with descriptions and links to a site to download them onto your devices. The site is Project Gutenberg, the original e-book site, releasing ebooks since, surprisingly, 1971.

Slave Narratives & Other Writings

Up from Slavery: An Autobiography by Booker T. Washington (A Memoir). This is his personal experience of having to work to rise up from the position of a slave child during the Civil War, to the difficulties and obstacles he overcame to get an education at the new Hampton Institute, to his work establishing vocational schools—most notably the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama—to help black people and other disadvantaged minorities learn useful, marketable skills and work to pull themselves, as a race, up by the bootstraps. It’s worth knowing that Washington was a segregationist, and so some of his views may surprise modern readers. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2376

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, an American Slave by Frederick Douglass (A Memoir). It is generally held to be the most famous of a number of narratives written by former slaves during the same period. In factual detail, the text describes the events of his life and is considered to be one of the most influential pieces of literature to fuel the abolitionist movement of the early 19th century in the United States. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/23

Narrative of William W. Brown, a Fugitive Slave by William Wells Brown (A Memoir). A wonderfully gripping slave narrative that’s the length of a novella. The matter-of-fact, almost journalistic way in which the writer describes the horrors he saw and experienced really hits home. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/15132

Clotelle; Or, The Colored Heroine, a tale of the Southern States; Or, The President’s Daughter by William Wells Brown (A Novel). This book tells a fictional story of what the life would be like for the mixed-race daughter of founding father and president Thomas Jefferson and slave Sally Hemings. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/241

The Souls of Black Folk by W. E. B. Du Bois (Essays). The book contains several essays on race, some of which the magazine Atlantic Monthly had previously published. To develop this work, Du Bois drew from his own experiences as an African American in American society. Outside of its notable relevance in African-American history, The Souls of Black Folk also holds an important place in social science as one of the early works in the field of sociology. In The Souls of Black Folk, Du Bois used the term "double consciousness", perhaps taken from Ralph Waldo Emerson ("The Transcendentalist" and "Fate"), applying it to the idea that black people must have two fields of vision at all times. They must be conscious of how they view themselves, as well as being conscious of how the world views them. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/408

Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral by Phillis Wheatley (Poetry). She was the first African-American author of a published book of poetry. Born in West Africa, she was sold into slavery at the age of seven or eight and transported to North America. She was enslaved by the Wheatley family of Boston. After she learned to read and write, they encouraged her poetry when they saw her talent. On a 1773 trip to London with her master's son, seeking publication of her work, Wheatley met prominent people who became patrons. The publication in London of her Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral on September 1, 1773, brought her fame both in England and the American colonies. Figures such as George Washington praised her work. A few years later, African-American poet Jupiter Hammon praised her work in a poem of his own. Wheatley was emancipated by her masters shortly after the publication of her book. They soon died, and she married poor grocer John Peters, lost three children, and died in poverty and obscurity at the age of 31. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/409

Alexandre Dumas’ Writings

Many don’t know this, but he was the grandson of a French Nobleman and a Haitian slave woman. Writing in the 1800’s, his work is characterized as adventure novels and page-turners with beautiful descriptions that rarely steal the show from the plot.

The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas is a standalone book that sets up his D'Artagnan Romances (pronounced Dar-tan-yun, by the way). Romantic in the sense of vivid and sentimental in tone, the stories have captivated generations all over the world. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1257

The Count of Monte Cristo (Illustrated) by Alexandre Dumas is one of the best adventure tales of revenge that spans decades, as our hero unfolds a tale of revenge that includes prison breaks, fabulous wealth, hedonism, and much more.  https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1184

The Black Tulip by Alexandre Dumas is one of his shorter novels that takes place amid murder and intrigue in a world where tulips were more valuable than gold. A good read, but not as gripping as the above two books, but great if you don’t want to be on the hook for a thousand pages of description and action. https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/965

Zora Neale Hurston’s Writings

She was an American author, anthropologist, and filmmaker. She portrayed racial struggles in the early-1900s American South and published research on hoodoo. The most popular of her four novels is Their Eyes Were Watching God, published in 1937. She also wrote more than 50 short stories, plays, and essays. Her writings are known for their noticeable focus on vernacular speech, where character spoke as they would during that place and time.

Three Plays by Zora Neale Hurston (Lawing & Jawing, Forty Yards, & Woofing). Lawing and Jawing is about a "regal" Judge who having a rough morning sends everybody to jail. He adjourns the court so he can "escort" a pretty girl home since he sent her innocent boyfriend to jail. Forty Yards is all about the teams cheering and singing. Every step is a song. The game is just an excuse to sing, even when the place catches fire they sing. Woofing is about a procrastinating man who doesn't finish anything and when a marching band goes past his porch, he and all his cronies drop everything to follow the band. http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/17187

The Mule-Bone: by Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston. (Novella) The only collaboration between the two brightest lights of the Harlem Renaissance—Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes. In this hilarious story, Jim and Dave are a struggling song-and-dance team, and when a woman comes between them, chaos ensues in their tiny Florida hometown.

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19435

De Turkey and De Law by Zora Neale Hurston. The two friends from The Mule-Bone, Jim and Dave are back again and so is Daisy. These two friends become enemies because they both imagine that Daisy prefers himself over the other. They both go out to hunt a turkey to give Daisy. The two young men fight over the turkey and one gets hit with a mule bone from the same old mule from the other play.

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22146

[gold-and-rubies]

Fallout’s Use of Dead Wives For Companions

So this isn’t a full on essay, but I want to take a look at the dead wife trope in Fallout New Vegas and Fallout 4, I haven’t played the others so I won’t make a comment on them. These are my opinions on it. I am not a professional at analysis, I just want to clear out my head. I will be talking about Boone, MacCready, Deacon, Valentine, and Longfellow. I thought about talking about Doc Mitchell, but I don’t really see people bring him up. Probably because it’s just used to explain why he has a female vault suit. I’m not going to talk about M!Sole Survivor, because in my opinion that is a different conversation. I talk more about Boone and MacCready, since I am explaining why it works for them. I don’t think many would argue with me that the others could use some alternatives though. Anyway, everything is below the cut.

So let’s start with Boone. He definitely is not the first, but he is the big one. If Bethesda did not overuse this trope in Fallout 4, I don’t think people would go off on him as much, but then again I am relatively new to the fandom. Overall, I think he is the best execution for two different reasons. 

I already made a small post about it, but I want to expand on it. When people talk about how focused he is on Carla’s death, I don’t think most people realize that it was recent. It happened while they were living in Novac, and when you meet him he says he has been living there for a year. Meaning that at the most she’s been dead for a little over eleven months, but I think it is way less than that. I think if it had been that long, Boone would have already figured out who was responsible. He’d probably be long, long gone. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is as recent as a little over a week. Not only is it recent, but he’s the one who did the deed. And he hates himself for it. He knows what he did was wrong, but it was that or let her and their unborn child become slaves. That’s another thing I don’t think a lot of people know. Carla was pregnant, and I’m pretty sure they were planning on keeping the child. He was given a choice that consisted of two very dark shades of grey, and he had to figure out which one was just a little better. Not only is it very recent, and tragic, but it genuinely has a very deep affect on him. It is apparent from the beginning that it isn’t just something that is supposed to make the player feel bad for him, it is an important part of his character.

The second reason is that this isn’t the only thing affecting him deeply, though he is the slightest bit more open about what happened to Carla. His participation in what happened at Bittersprings, and how that affected his relationships and how he views Carla’s death make him a deeper character. It serves to show the horrors of war, how willing people are to turn on each other when afraid, and it makes Boone a deeply traumatized character. Unlike other things, it isn’t just some cheap grab at pain. It’s made clear that he isn’t getting over her anytime soon, or maybe he might not at all. 

Let’s look at MacCready next, shall we? I think he is the second best execution of this in this group, and by far the best one in Fallout 4. 

I think this is because while Lucy’s death was incredibly sad, and affected him deeply the focus is more on Duncan and how he mirrors the Sole Survivor. A parent with a dead spouse who desperately wants to save their child? They’re practically twins. But jokes aside, unlike the others in Fallout 4, Lucy’s death provides substance and cannot be easily switched out for another person. 

While twenty-six is a young age to have experienced all that Boone has, twenty-two is even younger. MacCready lost Lucy in a horrific way and became a single parent at quite a young age. We know that he met Lucy after leaving Little Lamplight, and she obviously died after Duncan was born. We know she’s been dead for a least two years because MacCready says she’s been gone for a few years. That means he lost his wife, the person he trusted the most and became a single parent when he was likely still a teenager. And despite this he has arguably the healthiest relationship with the death. He still blames himself for it, but he has come to terms with it the best he can.

It serves as the reason as to why he is a single parent, which I think has more of an affect on him as a character than her actual death does. Growing up in Little Lamplight, and being in charge of it for a bit likely forced him to grow up faster than is healthy, but having a child at such a young age with no one to lean on but your partner who died sent that into overdrive. 

Yes, the final affinity talk is about Lucy, but given this is when you are able to pursue a romantic relationship with him, it makes sense. But here is why I think it makes sense that she died, and didn’t walk out on him, which could be seen as an alternative. He says that he never got the chance to tell her who he really was. She died believing he was a soldier and not a mercenary, which seriously messed him up. Part of him feels like she might have not loved him if he had told her the truth. It not only adds to the grief he feels, but also the joy he feels when Sole tells him they love him, because they truly do know him for who he is. 

They could have gone in about a million different ways with his character in Fallout 4, but with the way they went what happened makes sense.

Then there’s Deacon, who I have mixed feelings about. Him being violently against synths before joining the Railroad makes for an interesting story, and a good reason as to why he is the way he is, but I’m not fond of how Barbara fits into the story. I understand that there would have to be some sort of redemption in order for him to join the Railroad, but I don’t think Barbara’s death was the best choice.I mean a death of someone he is close to makes sense, but it didn’t have to be his wife. Unlike Boone and MacCready where it makes sense for them specifically to be dead, it doesn’t for Deacon. Her death is just seen as retribution for the pain he caused. They could have very easily have just made it a close friend. While it makes sense for him to have such a dark history, they could have gone with anything, as the specifics of what happened don’t play a large role in who he is as a person.

Now, Valentine. Yes, Jenny was his fiancée not his wife, but close enough. Unlike Deacon, where they could have done anything for his background, it makes sense that someone had to die to make sure Nick was well and truly invested. The thing here is that it absolutely did not not have to be his fiancée, his professional partner dying could have achieved the same effect for him. Now, what’s different here is that her death isn’t really the sad or important part, it’s his identity crisis and justice that are. It is the Original Nick’s memories that spur him on, but justice for her death specifically isn’t the takeaway. It is the desire to do the right thing, and your actions being your own are.

Finally, we have Old Longfellow. This one is going to be super short. Old Longfellow is old by human wastelander standards. While I understand they want to provide a proper explanation as to why he dislikes the Children of Atom, him just being around for a long time and seeing and hearing everything would be reason enough. Hannah, that was her name if you didn’t know, I had to look it up, dying does the opposite of what the writer’s want. Instead of gaining sympathy for him it pushes players away, making her death the most unimportant one. You can’t even tell that that’s what is affecting him. They should have just focused on the thing with Shipbreaker. That would fit both his character, and the whole aesthetic of Far Harbor very well.

[starlit-mansion]

If i was recommending someone trying to get into the fnaf games exclusively through many hours of youtube videos, it would really have to be:

• Markiplier's playthroughs of all the mainline games (really the perfect mix of the feeling of all of them coming out from nowhere and becoming a phenomenon, a performer really groking how to play and expressing the terror of playing in a way that was actually pretty rare among first plays I've seen, and lots of entertaining bits that cut the tension)

• Dawko's Revisited series (a nice mix of skilled let's play and connecting a lot of the commonly accepted lore as it crops up in the game, with a lot of love for the series that i think really expresses the appreciation and bugbears that the current fandom has. Includes fanf world, an interesting failure that turns out to be surprisingly tonally in line with the later canon)

• Sagan Hawkes' Retrospective series (a collection of essay style recaps of not only the in-game universe, but the fan reactions and community stuff, with very good production value)

• Scruffy's two videos about the sound design in fnaf and how it builds and maintains tension, which are very beautifully animated and can and should be watched even by people who don't care about fnaf

• Pim Is Online's "FNaF 4 is a Horror Masterpiece" essay (includes a nice amount of history to set the table, and is a very nice argument in favor of the series in general and of the game that began the big wave of backlash towards the series in particular)

• Bonus Rec (Secret Sixth Night) - Andiematronic's "How to Make Your Own Spring Bonnie Suit" video (not really about the lore or anything, but an extremely good video that's both a cosplay tutorial and a semi-in character performance based on the events of Help Wanted, so it's a nice dessert after experiencing the game)

[aplusblogging]

An Analysis on the History of Gender in the Horror Genre

This is one of my classmates’ final projects for Sociology. I loved it so much I asked for her permission to share it here. Hope you enjoy it too!

Transcript under the cut, since the auto-generated captions are mostly accurate but punctuation is good for comprehension.

TRANSCRIPT:

“My name is Davis Barelli, and in this video essay I'm going to look at the portrayal of gender through the lens of the horror genre.

Women in particular may have a reason to keep coming back to the genre, outside of a cheap thrill. In a study done by the Geena Davis Institute on Gender in Media, and Google, using the Geena Davis Inclusion Quotient—or the GDIQ—it was determined that women are featured on screen and in speaking roles more than men only in the horror genre. With the advent of the MPAA rating system in the '30s, the kind of horror we know today didn't re-emerge until the '60s.

Making female characters who would later become known as "Final Girls" the vessel for traumatic experiences allowed viewers—especially men and boys coming home from war—to see someone reacting to trauma in the way that they wanted to, but wasn't socially acceptable. Instead, the model for men to see themselves in was the macho, womanizing jock who goes outside to find the big bad, typically resulting in him being the first to die. While there was a lot of good in the survivors of these horror movies very commonly being female, a specific archetype of the female survivor made it clear what kind of girl it took to be the hero.

The Final Girl being portrayed in '60s, '70s, and '80s slasher horror as an innocent virgin stereotype was no accident, what with America experiencing the breakdown of the nuclear family and Christian morals thanks to the free-love movement of the '60s. This led to frequent themes of occultism, homosexuality, and hypersexuality in horror at the time. Characters who gave in to these evils were given a death sentence, as opposed to the Final Girls, who were rewarded for their abstinence with survival.

When films did stray from the norm by casting male leads in sequels in place of the Final Girl, a double standard emerged. Male protagonists were branded as "homosexual" for acting like the Final Girls before them, and the actors who portrayed them had their careers effectively ruined. Where the '70s gave rise to exploitation horror centered on violence against women, '80s niche horror had different scapegoats.

Cannibal Holocaust, released at the beginning of the decade and directed by Ruggero Deodato, tells the story of a group going to the Amazon in search of a missing film crew. They discover footage detailing the gruesome things the crew did to the tribe they encountered before they were killed. Not only is the portrayal of hostile tribes in the Amazon harmful to the actual tribes in the Amazon, but framing the main character of the film as a kind of white savior for not wanting the footage of the tribe distributed is basically rewarding him for the absolute bare minimum.

The other standout film of the '80s notorious for its subject matter is that of Sleepaway Camp. Sleepaway Camp tells the story of a young girl who experiences the death of her family during a boating accident and is sent to live with her aunt and cousin. She and her cousin go to the summer camp and it quickly becomes a bloodbath. The reveal at the end is that the young girl was the culprit, because she wasn't a girl at all, but her twin brother who was forced by the aunt to live as a girl. The narrative of trans people as dangerous, deranged villains pretending to be a different gender due to mental illness or against their will is deeply harmful to the LGBTQ people who were battling misconceptions at the time similar to this, and still are.

This energy evolved with the '90s, which shifted its focus to supernatural teenage hormones, with the likes of The Craft and many others. Looking at the villains of these movies, though, is a clear pointer to the ostracization of the "weird kid" in the '90s. This is most prominently seen in The Craft, where a girl with supernatural powers befriends a group of girls pretending to be witches. She bestows them with real powers and hijinks ensue. The film culminates in the ringleader—who, out of the group, is the least conventionally attractive—being put in an insane asylum for her misdeeds, while the rest of the group gets off relatively scot-free. This served as an unfortunate continuation of the narrative that girls who were weird were to be punished, but if you were pretty, you could get away with it.

With the 2000s filled with American-made J-horror and classic horror remakes, I'd like to skip forward, save for one movie.

In the 2000s a movie came out that caused a huge ruckus over how bad it was, but I think deserves a spot here for its portrayal of teenage girls in horror. Jennifer's Body, directed by* Diablo Cody, starring Megan Fox and Amanda Seyfried, tells the story of Jennifer getting possessed after a botched human sacrifice because she lies about being a virgin. It was almost universally panned by critics, who called it a "sexploitation film lacking the all-important ballast of sincerity." Both Cody and Fox—who were gaining fame for Juno and the Transformers franchise, respectively—were already written off by critics, most of whom were men, before the movie had even been released. In reality, Jennifer's character was unique for being the mean girl who gets killed off, the big bad, and a revenge film-esque survivor, all in one. And her best friend, "Needy," was the sarcastic, dorky, sexually active Final Girl we never would have seen in classic horror.

The last decade has given rise to a genre dubbed "intelligent horror," ushering in an age with less mindless bloodlust and more nuanced characters and themes. Directors Jordan Peele and Ari Aster are arguably at the forefront of the intelligent horror genre; Peele's Get Out and Us giving people of color representation in a severely whitewashed genre. Get Out, especially, has received praise not just for the representation of people of color, but the very real, very prevalent issues of race and police brutality. One of the most important aspects is the depiction of the white savior character in the form of the protagonist's girlfriend, who is revealed to actually be a villain, showcasing the dramatization of the danger of performative activism and how that affects people of color.

Ari Aster, on the other hand, deals with themes of mental illness and family trauma, something unfortunately somewhat universal. While mommy issues and cults are nothing new in horror, Ari Aster's work frames both subjects very differently, especially in regards to the women in his films. Midsommar heavily focuses on Dani, the protagonist's, mental health and manipulation by others throughout the film, as she navigates grief unapologetically and realistically. This portrayal of grief in Midsommar from a woman's point of view is so important, because Dani is clingy, she's anxious, she's emotional, and she's human. As opposed to the polished, over-dramatic depiction of women and their emotions that are so commonly seen in horror.

Over the decades, horror and its portrayals of the human experience have shifted to continue being a compelling mirror for the issues of the time. But something that will always be current is that we can be scared.”

End of transcript.

*Jennifer’s Body was written by Diablo Cody and directed by Karyn Kusama

[agameforgoodchristians]

The Bible’s Nastiest Verse Answers Your Classic White-Person Question [A Guest Card Talk]

Note: this Guest Card Talk is a learned response to our canon card “Babies with their brains dashed against stones (Psalms 137)”

Let’s say you use the psalms as part of your devotions: you read them, or pray them, or chant them, whatever. Maybe you do it on a fixed schedule, the way millions of nuns and monks have for centuries. One day the schedule comes round to Psalm 137. You start to pray it as you pray any psalm, but then you hit verse 9, and you Just. Can’t. Do it.

Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock.

I couldn’t pray this either, not for the longest time, until the one day I did and it changed something essential in the way I see race. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Why is praying this dreadful verse even a thing?

Pope Paul VI tried to make it not a thing. During the development of the Liturgy of the Hours—the go-to prayer book for Roman Catholics—the pope omitted this verse and about 120 other imprecatory passages (basically, curses), citing the “psychological difficulty” they cause. I get it, and I’ll bet you do too. His Holiness made this omission, however, against the wishes of the very advising commission overseeing the development, and the debate continues to this day.

Skipping the nasties is not limited to the Catholic Church. The Revised Common Lectionary and other Protestant liturgical books omit them as well. Perfectly reasonable, right?

But maybe it’s not that simple. To understand why, we need to look closely at the psalm itself.

Psalm 137 focuses on the most devastating catastrophe to befall ancient Israel: the destruction of Jerusalem (including the Temple) and the seventy-year captivity in Babylon. Somewhere in this disaster, the Babylonian tormentors find yet another way to torment: they ask Israel’s harpists for mirth. “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!” (vs. 3).

It’s easy to gloss over this, for me at least—it was centuries ago, water under the bridge and all that—but think about what’s being asked. A captive harpist could not, under any circumstances, “sing a song of Zion” in Babylon. (Hence the next verse: How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?). Those songs expressed the beating heart of Zion: its culture, its tribes, its Torah, its God, everything the Jews treasured. They’re not fillers for the Saturday night lineup; they’re an act of worship, of Jewishness itself.

Not feeling the horror yet? Try this. Imagine you’re a plantation owner in antebellum America, and you’re putting on a little after-dinner show for some distinguished guests. You’ve heard your slaves singing in the fields, and one of them is very good, so you approach him and say, “Hey, we’re having some people over tonight, and they’ll be expecting entertainment after dinner. So c’mon up to the house and sing us one of those ditties you colored folks sing in your prayer meetings.”

No. Just. No.

Now throw in the Edomites from verse 7:

Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites

The day of Jerusalem’s fall,

How they said, “Tear it down! Tear it down!

Down to its foundations!”

As you may recall, the Edomites originated with Esau, the brother of Jacob. You might think that common ancestry (conflicted as it was) might hold the two countries together, but no. Not only did the Edomites jeer on Babylon’s destruction of Jerusalem, they stationed themselves on the perimeter of the city, caught any fleeing Israelites, and returned them to Babylon’s army for execution or enslavement. Now that I know that, I get furious reading this verse. Verse 8 then turns the attention back to Babylon, starting the call for vengeance that culminates in the child-bashing verse 9.

By this point, verse 9 isn’t so scandalous. It’s not even surprising. The rage here is what so many oppressed people feel every day. Which is why I’ll go out on a limb and say that for certain folks (I’m looking at us, white people) praying it should be a thing.

I say this because of how the verse changed me. As a white person, I haven’t experienced bone-deep rage many times in my life, if ever. I have zero experience with grinding, tormenting, humiliating oppression. By praying this psalm, I came face to face with the tiniest glimpse of what it’s like to be oppressed, and the fury it deserves. That glimpse moved me one step further toward listening long, deeply, with full attention whenever Black people talk about their history and life in America today. I don’t know it firsthand—I can’t—so I must hear them and consider the reality they present.

When you see it this way, Psalm 137 becomes an eloquent and powerful response to the question sometimes asked by white people, “Why are Black people so angry?” If you’re asking that question, start with this psalm—and then go read everything you can find written by Black people about Black experience. After a while happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock won’t surprise you either.

*A spiritual director, bigender person, and quasi-hermit, John Backman writes about ancient spirituality and the ways it collides with postmodern life. This includes a book (Why Can’t We Talk? Christian Wisdom on Dialogue as a Habit of the Heart) and personal essays in Catapult and many other journals. John has presented at a range of conferences, including the 2015 Parliament of the World’s Religions.

[padawanlost]

with so much official stuff made by different people, how familiar are you with individual writing patterns/biases of various sw authors (novelizations, legends/canon novels, essays, tv scripts, et cetera)? one post mentioned jude watson's love of obi-wan & less-favourable depictions of anakin & qui-gon in her books. how'd you compare her biases or writers like matthew stover, karen miller, or any others? which writers tend to "match up" most with how you'd prefer to interpret the characters? :D

omg, that’s such a good question! I think it becomes very clear when you get used to the EU that each writer like to explore a certain aspect of the story. Jude Watson is famous for portraying an Anakin that’s always on a verge of becoming Vader even when he was a little kid.  Karen Traviss has a passion for Mandalore culture, war and politics. And Stover *loves* Obi-wan. 

Personally, I don’t see that as a problem. Some fans tend to point figures (specially at Traviss for focusing on the morality of war) to say something shouldn’t be considered because a ‘biased’ writer is behind it. As someone who have read most of it multiple times, I believe this divergence makes the story more complex and the characters more human. Anakin wasn’t always a saint, the Jedi weren’t always flawed and Obi-wan wasn’t always perfect. When we face the fact these character weren’t just ONE THING it becomes easier to accept their humanity. When a writer tells me Anakin was innocent and another tells me anakin had darkness inside, I can accept both as true because that’s reality. That’s what well-written stories should be all about: portraying character that feel real. The only difference is that the EU explores different aspects of the story through different authors. 

We all have soft spots for our favorite characters and so do writers. It’s naïve to expect them to have the same view as the us (especially considering not even their readers agree on the characters motivations). That’s why I prefer to see each writer’s ‘bias’ as a different view, instead of going “they hate the character I love’.  That’s also why I don’t have only one writer that encapsulates everything I love about sw. 

Stover is the best at exploring the poetic tragedy of the fall of the Republic. He’s the ability to show the characters flaws without making them unsympathetic. He’s best at ‘Obi-wan is suffering’ themes. 

Traviss is the best at asking the important questions about slavery, the clone army and corruption. She’s not subtle about it but she’s effective. If you want a conversation on the horrors of war, her books are the best place to start. Watson, despite getting at little too heavy handed something, is really good at exploring Anakin’s internal struggle. Her Anakin is dark, angry and selfish but he’s also lonely, isolated and secretly suffering. She loves Obi-wan but she still shows the readers how unprepared he was for the taks of raising Anakin. Luceno also focuses on politics but takes a subtler approach. His Anakin reminds me a lot of AOTC!Anakin. He’s young and experienced at the same time.

Miller wrote my favorite sw books so I should say she’s my favorite writer too, even if she didn’t cover all the phases of Anakin’s life. Her Anakin, imo, is a perfect mix of all the above. He is kind, dark, angry, emotional, romantic, selfish, etc. and she writes this without making the other characters look bad. She’s balanced. Everyone has good and bad moments/traits. 

Honestly, I’m fine with the content we have. Thanks to their different views the EU provides a richer experience. I don’t think I’d have enjoyed it as much as I do if every writer explored the same themes the same way. I think one writer complements the other and when we put all their works together we get a rich, complex history that got us talking many years later.

Seriously, it’s amazing how cohesive they are considering how scattered the EU can be. Even with each other taking a different approach the story still flows naturally. We don’t have cases where one writer claims Anakin used to torture kittens as a kid as another claims he was mini-saint. They all agree anakin was good, they only diverge on how that goodness was translated into actions. And I’m fine with that because even if some writers goes a little further – like Jude Watson with Anakin’s darkness – their creative choice is backed by the preexisting canon (Anakin’s darkness as a kid was a result the isolation and trauma, as written by others).

When I think of the Prequels I think of Anakin’s story from birth to Vader. Each writer represents a step he took and though some steps are more compelling than others, I would never remove single one.

[kaikiky]

Mini rambling essay on being "gifted"

I don't know how it is for other people, but I know that for me, growing up as a "gifted kid" really ingrained in me a desire to impress other people, not just with how smart and accomplished (and thus, correlatively, superior) I am, but by how advanced I am. So like, it wasn't enough to be smart compared to everyone in my grade, I had to be smart compared to even people older and more experienced than me. I got so addicted to praise and recognition for how smart I am that I felt compelled to pursue activities that would showcase how advanced I am for my age. Which in practice meant I would prioritize school-related activities over hobbies I genuinely enjoyed, or if I enjoyed something, I would incorporate it into my academic life somehow so I could use it to impress grown-ups.

I couldn't detach anything I did from the pursuit of acknowledgment for how smart and mature and advanced I was. And I was even to some level aware that this was my motivation, which meant I felt kind of artificial. But at the same time, I still felt superior to other kids my age who watched cartoons and did hobbies that were just purely for fun. I thought they were wasting their time accomplishing nothing. I wanted to be one of those kids who got held up on a pedestal for accomplishing so much before even going to college. That was my goal. I always wanted to be compared to a cohort far above my own, and deemed better. Because that's how it was when I was little and I was used to it, and it felt good to be praised (even when it also felt awkward and uncomfortable to be in the spotlight, shy little bean that I am). And stopping to reflect on that, of course now I see how toxic and stupid that is. I've stopped living my life as a competition in pursuit of praise and acknowledgment, but I can still sometimes feel that unconscious desire wriggle around inside me, because it got that deeply ingrained into my unconscious. And I'm also realizing that jumping ahead like that to try to rack up all the advanced smarts and accomplishments actually made me miss out on learning things better if I had slowed down to meditate and dig into the subjects more. Like, as a kid a knew a LOT, and in high school I knew a LOT and was capable of a LOT, but looking back, I feel like it wasn't the depth of understanding I really wish it was, the kind of depth that would have stuck with me better over the years and been more useful. I knew what I needed to know to impress people and graduate in the top 5 of my class, but I wish I had learned it all more to be able to incorporate the information into my life and lifelong bank of knowledge. If I wanted to use now the information I used to have of art history, world history, calculus, linguistics, etc., I would have to go back and refresh my memory, and then still learn more. Because I had to drop a subject once the next semester started. I was so busy trying to soak up everything I needed for each semester that I didn't have time to really let things settle, and there were always new classes to work on right after so I couldn't take time to go back and continue learning subjects that genuinely fascinated me. They were in the past. I had new exams to study for and ace. I guess what I'm saying is, I wish I hadn't been so determined to win a Smartness™ certificate and instead had allowed myself to delve beyond what the class wanted me to learn so that I could really become more of an actual "expert" in the subjects that mattered to me. I wanted to be recognized as smart more than I wanted to be usefully smart or specialized in anything. And I resent that the competitive culture pushed me to be that way, because I could have such a deep understanding of so many things by now, but instead I was racing to learn too much for the frivolous purpose of being impressive.

(Oh and to pull capitalism into the horror landscape, my motivation even in middle school was to be impressive enough to win a big impressive scholarship that would cover all my college expenses, saving my family from the burdensome cost. So if I hadn't been worried about the price tag on a college education, I also might not have been so focused on doing everything I could to compete in national exams that would win me a full ride. So there's that.)

And I wonder how many people go straight from high school to college then grad school just because that's the track that makes you impressive, because wow! you're getting a PhD when you're so young? You must be really really smart!! First of all, why is that the measurement for smart? Second of all, why is that what's impressive and not so many other things people can accomplish outside of a big degree? I'm rambling again.

I just keep thinking about all the things I could have a genuinely deep understanding of if for all this time I had allowed myself to pursue them to my heart's content rather than rushing to be at a basic level of knowledge that people five years older than me would have if they were smart.

And I'm much more attuned to the performative manner "smart" people speak in, like their primary motive is to show off in order to get the praise and approval they're used to getting as gifted kids. It doesn't work.

That kind of performativity was always obnoxious and cringey, even in elementary school kids, but hearing an adult do it is worse because it shows they never grew out of it. They're trying to sound advanced and impressive but instead they just sound childish, like a toddler going "Look at me! Look at me! Look what I can do!" and hoping to get their seniors to clap.

I'm sure even a shy kid like me managed to pull off a few cringey moments seeking adult praise, but I got over it. I don't understand how grown ass adults aren't embarrassed of themselves when they go on monologues full of jargon and unnatural rhetorical flourishes. And it makes me wonder, is that the real reason you're here? in this university? because you want that Pavlovian response where you say something above your reading level and the adult in the room goes, "Wow, you're so smart"? That's the only thing I think when I hear that kind of bs.

When I hear those people, they don't make me want to be around them. They don't make me want to learn from them. They don't sound like they would be a good source of information, they just sound like they want to lecture at you so you'll stare in awe and think they're so smart.

And the more I hear it, the more I think the world would absolutely be a better place if society didn't cultivate that kind of behavior, if it didn't promote competition in general smarts but encouraged the passionate pursuit of knowledge no matter what the subject of interest is, even from a young age. I would rather be in a world full of little scholars who can talk for hours about the things they love rather than listen to pedantic, condescending nonsense from ~aCaDeMiCs~ who love feeling superior and compete with people in their fields for who knows the subject better.

I want knowledge to be fun, and scholarship to be collaborative, not a fight to prove your research deserves attention because you surpassed the understanding of whoever came before you. I'm tired of academic writing being, "Here's what so-and-so said, and here's why they're wrong," or "Here's what so-and-so said, but here's where they're lacking in something that I, the insightful genius, have come to fill in." It's such a juvenile pissing contest dressed up in professionalism and fancy rhetoric. It's embarrassing and pathetic.

I used to think people getting a PhD at 25 or something was so cool and impressive, but I have so much more respect now for someone who has lived through a lot of experience and appreciates learning in a way that gifted kids rushing to be impressive don't.

I respect people who are secure in themselves and come to university looking to learn and absorb, and I feel sorry for people like me who came to university intending to perform smartness. I feel like I could have used my time so much more wisely if I had had a better understanding of what I could get out of college itself rather than using it as a means for racking up achievements and honors.