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jamestaylorswift · 4 years

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Love’s a game, wanna play? A meta-analysis of the game of love and Taylor’s love of games

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Before actually getting into this, I’m obligated to make the disclaimer that this is just my interpretation of some songs. I’m not claiming to be “right” about anything. I have no way of knowing whether my observations will hold true if/when Taylor releases more music. It doesn’t really matter. There are many ways to interpret music.

Games are not the only extended metaphor in her discography; if you understand one, you don’t necessarily understand them all. This essay is an exploration of how one particular metaphor could be so effective.

In addition, I am often the first person to say that “not everything is that deep.” Yet here I am, making something deep. I was only mildly curious about this metaphor at first. In the process of documenting my understanding, I surprised even myself as I realized how rich this metaphor is.

A warning…this essay is very long. (It’s either mildly interesting or completely ridiculous and nothing in between. Likely the second.)

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The notion of a ‘game’ is often conflated with the notion of adversarial conflict. This misunderstanding is largely due to Western structural/cultural forces. Mathematicians and economists have a passion for framing most predicaments as zero-sum, or strictly competitive, where one player’s advantageous move by definition disadvantages their opponent. But collaborative and otherwise not strictly competitive games exist too.

Taylor’s fascination with games spans her entire discography. Artistic preoccupation is reason alone to analyze her work from such an acute angle. But pleasantly, Taylor also does not share the academics’ favorite pastime. She strays away from the zero-sum bias in very unpredictable ways. In fact, she has no bias. She prefers to mix and match her language to each situation as she sees fit. Her convolution of love and games is expressive, divorced from the logical framework by which games are defined. I think examining this facet of her work with a fine-toothed comb may be especially illuminating.

It seems counterintuitive to argue that games could (or should) be anything more than Taylor’s favorite metaphorical manifestation of logos. Yet revisiting a metaphor is itself communication, conscious or not. Advancing an understanding of this extended metaphor, in my opinion, substantiates what is usually intangible about Taylor’s songwriting brilliance.

On Games

Precocious and perceptive, Taylor has, for as long as she’s been writing, placed competition, strategy, and collaboration alongside conflict. Therefore, for the sake of coherence and relative brevity, analysis is scoped only to songs with significant mentions of games, puzzles, or game-related imagery. ‘Games’ are not conflated with general fighting, trickery, toying, revenge, mention of rules/strategizing, or winning/losing. ‘Puzzles’ are not conflated with disorder; puzzle pieces must be pieces of a larger, vivid picture.

Consider football. Imagery of high school football makes “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” fair territory. Someone shouting over a football game in a bar does not qualify “Mean.” The football helmet worn in “Stay Stay Stay” is an absurd and compelling detail in context, as likely to be fictitious as it is true, and hence more significant than a televised sporting event; “Stay Stay Stay” qualifies. In essence, games are interesting as a device rather than a simple detail.

Below is a list of the songs with significant game reference(s), categorized by implied type. Note that a song can belong to multiple categories if it contains multiple references.

Generic/unspecified games: “Come in With the Rain”, “Dear John”, “State of Grace”, “Blank Space”, “Wonderland”, “…Ready For It?”, “End Game”, “Look What You Made Me Do”

Card games: “New Romantics”, “End Game”, “Cornelia Street”, “It’s Nice To Have A Friend”

Dice games: “Cruel Summer”, “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince”

Board games: “Dear John”

Sports/contests: “The Story Of Us”, “Long Live”, “Stay Stay Stay”, “End Game”, “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince”

Puzzles: “Red”, “All Too Well”, “So It Goes…”

Other: “It’s Nice To Have A Friend”

Like many people, Taylor habitually seeks structure to manage unpredictability. (Games provide structure for situational volatility, hence her artistic love affair with this metaphor.) The stylistic choices she makes to entertain this habit, however, are anything but consistent.

The games have a variety of different players, such as in “Dear John” and “Look What You Made Me Do.”

She does not establish strict parity between characters’ emotional affiliation and the competitiveness of a game. “Dear John” features an adversarial game. Conversely, her partner in “Blank Space” is a co-conspirator/collaborator. “All Too Well” analogizes autumn leaves as puzzle pieces; puzzles are collaborative games.

Taylor famously claims that love is a game in “Blank Space.” This song is colloquially understood to be about the love story we see play out in the media. Games can thus include all parts of her ‘love life.’ Arguably, she foreshadows this in “Long Live” by intertwining parts of her ‘America’s sweetheart’ image with professional success, which is derived from writing about love.

Taylor is not always a player in a game, such as in “Cruel Summer.” Her partner may not be either; see the crossword in “Red.”

In short, humans are unpredictable, as is love. It is clear that Taylor uses games as an incredibly powerful metaphorical device. They are a genuine reflection of her feelings about love.

Musical analysis usually begins with careful consideration of each track. Given a disparate and lengthy list of songs, it is probably more fruitful to go up a layer of abstraction. Of particular intrigue for this set of songs is the relationship between time and Taylor’s willingness to divulge more information about a metaphorical game.

We revisit the set of songs to list them in chronological order. The purely ‘generic’ songs are now bolded: “Come in With the Rain”, “Dear John”, “The Story Of Us”, “Long Live”, “State of Grace”, “Red”, “All Too Well”, “Stay Stay Stay”, “Blank Space”, “Wonderland”, “New Romantics”, ”…Ready For It?”, “End Game”, “Look What You Made Me Do”, “So It Goes…”, “Cruel Summer”, “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince”, “Cornelia Street”, “It’s Nice To Have A Friend”

Specificity about a game seems to decrease with proximity to the 1989 era.

Lyrical imprecision in “Come in With the Rain,” a true outlier, probably boils down to youth.

“State of Grace” is a preamble about the themes of Red. “Begin Again,” though much later on that album, shares the same inspiration as “State of Grace.” Red is constructed as a sandwich between these two songs which present the album’s thesis. The album considered as a whole is thus a buffer for 1989.

reputation is a buffer for 1989 because the ‘generic’ game songs are heavily and intentionally front-loaded.

“New Romantics” is a coda for 1989, and its poker game reference is slightly ambiguous. What, exactly, is poker; what is all in the timing? The thematic material of “New Romantics” is most similar to that of “Blank Space.” ‘It’ is the same crude game played in the earlier track, the affair of collecting men. Perhaps this close relation subsumes “New Romantics” under the ‘generic’ game category. (Though this is a loose explanation.)

There exists an undeniable chronological pattern to game characterization. If you graphed the amount of game-related lyrical obscurity versus time, it would look like a shallow sand dune with the tip at the 1989 era. (Or a hill. Or a big pile of leaves. You get the picture.)

Armed with a basic understanding of Taylor’s career, one might say that her desire for personal privacy manifests as reticence to define metaphorical games. The 1989 era was the height of media attention on her. This caused more than a few issues. The art created around this time would have naturally reflected how she felt about the public eye. (See: the entire reputation era.)

But isn’t Taylor almost as famous as ever today? Sure, her name is not as saturated in the zeitgeist as it was in 2014. She’s still one of the world’s mega-stars. And does she not have a very private relationship today? Taylor’s work reflects her hardened personal boundaries, but boundaries alone do not explain the pattern of how she writes about games. Otherwise Lover would be filled to the brim with songs about ‘generic’ games.

To summarize, Taylor uses games as a perennial favorite metaphor to frame her experiences of love. Increased public scrutiny undoubtedly changed the way that Taylor approached songwriting; even so, fame was not a factor that changed how she wrote about games. The connection between time and types of games suggests that we cannot consider game metaphors in isolation.

On Love

The next piece of the puzzle (no pun intended) is what she shares about love. Which 1989 songs are most revealing? Technically…most of them, if you think hard enough. I’d like to draw special attention to “Wonderland” and “You Are in Love.”

Ah, “You Are in Love.” The musical gift that keeps on giving! Fitting, because true love should be too.

In “Wonderland,” Taylor says:

It’s all fun and games ’til somebody loses their mind

Shortly thereafter in the “You Are in Love” bridge, she proclaims:

You understand now why they lost their mind and fought the wars

And why I’ve spent my whole life trying to put it into words

Taylor reverses her opinion about the prospect of losing her mind for love. (The abruptness here is a consequence of a real-life relationship change, plus the fact that both of these songs are bonus tracks.) Of course, she also tells us an important connection between love and games.

I’ll pause here to say that I’m not going to turn this into a (frankly uninteresting) relationship timeline/proof post. But may the profound significance of “You Are in Love” and its subject never escape us.

“You Are in Love” is written in the second person. Taylor is the intensely guarded ‘you.’ We witness her emotional walls get broken down by her lover, the ‘he.’ Fascinatingly, Taylor departs from the second person point of view in the bridge. Suddenly, she alerts us to the presence of an ‘I.’ The bridge says that ‘you’ Taylor, whole and normal-person-in-a-relationship Taylor, finally understands true love. In the same breath, ‘I,’ writer Taylor, admits that she’s had it all wrong for years. (This is not to say that her writing pursuits before this moment were pointless.) Therefore, breaking the second person point of view to include the ‘I’ line shows that Taylor distills the nature of true love in that ‘eureka’ moment.

Yet she exposes the schism of writer Taylor and whole, normal person Taylor in a moment where, in theory, those two roles could not overlap more. Taylor has every reason to faithfully represent her feelings. Her sentiment is always sincere even though she may falsify details of a story. “You Are in Love” is (as far as I’m aware) the only song in which Taylor ever blatantly admits to writer-person misalignment. The schism must run extremely deep.

Taylor was—and surely still is—drawn to songwriting as a means to explore love. She tries to to capture its enigmatic essence with the written word. How fascinating it is that, at the very moment she communicates her deepest understanding of love, she says that the part of her that puts it into words is inherently disconnected from her spirit which feels it.

On Games And Love

We must briefly table the meta-implications of “You Are in Love” to return to the topic of games.

Love probably would have stopped feeling like a game after finding a real gem of a person who doesn’t mess with your head. (Love also probably would have stopped feeling like a game after dialing down on brazen PR tomfoolery.) Taylor has written several albums about her true love. It’s easier now to trace the arc of her feelings: it is a positive path, as anyone would predict.

Why would she continue to write about games after 1989? The obvious answer is that she likes doing it. It remains a useful metaphor.

But recall that chronology discourages us from considering metaphorical games in isolation. To clarify the principal function of the game metaphor in her discography, we must consider the writer-person dichotomy.

First, note that Taylor exposes the writer-person dichotomy in an honest, vulnerable moment. She confirms it as a human phenomenon. The phenomenon thus must extend beyond a singular moment during 1989. Distance between writer Taylor and whole, normal person Taylor—a measure henceforth called writer-person distance—is necessarily a function of time. Coincidentally, so is the measure of game-related lyrical obscurity.

Writer-person distance can grow or shrink. It was small in her youth; this is what pushed her into songwriting. It is small now, as she has told us in the albums since 1989 that true love has stitched her back together. Again, because writer-person distance is a human phenomenon, it changes slowly, smoothly. (“You Are in Love” simply marks the biggest distance.) Does this sound familiar? If you graphed writer-person distance versus time, the graph would look like a shallow sand dune with the tip at the 1989 era. (Or a hill. Or a big pile of leaves. Once again, you get the picture.)

To summarize, game-related lyrical obscurity and writer-person distance are smooth functions. “You Are in Love” is the inflection point of both measures.

With “Wonderland” and “You Are in Love,” Taylor tells us that games are linked to how she conceptualizes love. But not just any love. 🎶 True love. 🎶

At the same time, Taylor presents “You Are in Love” as a dividing line between ‘that which is a best attempt to understand something that inherently cannot be captured’ and ‘that which refines the thing that, against all odds, was captured.’ Our interpretation of games must synthesize an abrupt ‘eureka’ moment with both the measures’ gradual changes.

If we are to talk about metaphorical games, we also must talk about true love. But we know that if we are to talk about games, we also must talk about time. Vital to uniting these ideas is the revelation that Taylor conceptualizes the nature of true love as the nature of time. For doesn’t time define what is gradual and abrupt?

The most important line in “You Are in Love” is when Taylor finds it—‘it’ being love. A literal ‘eureka’ moment. This isn’t just a one-time coincidence.

Writer-person bifurcation clarifies why the game metaphor is surprisingly effective. As Taylor revisits the convolution of love and games, the metaphor morphs in tandem with her innate understanding of love.

Some Good Old-fashioned Song Analysis

Observing how games, love, and time are intertwined requires that we reject purely literal interpretations of game-related lyrics after “You Are in Love.” Of course, literal interpretations are still generally useful, even correct. Games are literal, so references to them should be interpreted as such. Also, lyrics about games are probably Not This Deep in reality. We didn’t have to do all this work to realize what songs might belong in conversation with each other; identifying lyrical callbacks would have been sufficient. Treating game lyrics as purely literal limits how we might decipher a recurring metaphor. Without the notions of game specificity or writer-person distance, we would lack a framework with which to fully interrogate how these songs are are connected (i.e. through time). And, after all, the ultimate goal is to understand why the game metaphor is so successful. But, I digress.

(We’ve also made it this far and we might as well keep going. Another couple thousand words…don’t threaten me with a good time, amirite?)

To observe how games, love, and time are intertwined, I propose the following rule of thumb: A game reference before “You Are in Love” is Taylor’s description of love, whereas a game reference afterwards is a pointer to past instances of that game. Such a reference is metaphysical, or more appropriately, meta-lyrical. If she’s referenced a game already, she knows how to use that reference again. If she introduces a new reference, she’s planting it for future use.

We can group the songs after “You Are in Love” by game type:

Generic/unspecified games: “…Ready For It?”, “End Game”, “Look What You Made Me Do”

Dice games: “Cruel Summer”, “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince”

Card games: “New Romantics”, “End Game”, “Cornelia Street”, “It’s Nice To Have A Friend”

Sports/contests: “End Game”, “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince”

Puzzles: “So It Goes…”

Other: “It’s Nice To Have A Friend"

Analysis requires precision. We should pare down the duplicates, if possible.

“It’s Nice To Have A Friend” is tricky because it’s naturally sparse. “Video games,” for example, are more than a simple detail: they are an essential part of creating a childhood vignette. “Twenty questions” and the card game “bluff” function analogously in the later verses. The brilliance of this song lies in how Taylor illustrates the development of companionship and intimacy. The verse about marriage is the most significant verse because it reveals the meaning of the whole song. Thus, we may take the bluff to be more important than twenty questions, which is more important than video games. “It’s Nice To Have A Friend” ultimately belongs in the card game category.

Central to the pathos of “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” is the “stupid” dice game lyric. Of equal importance is the portrait of Americana, painted with lyrics about Friday night lights. This song truly belongs in two categories.

At the end of “…Ready For It?” Taylor fires a starting pistol, letting ‘generic’ games begin. “End Game” follows and we assume it must pertain to the same game. So Taylor intentionally places this song in the first category. The hook has lyrics about a varsity “A-team,” though this is probably just a nod to Ed Sheeran. The other truly interesting game-related lyric is the one about bluffing. Thus, “End Game” also belongs in the card game category.

Here’s the new list:

Generic/unspecified games: “…Ready For It?”, “End Game”, “Look What You Made Me Do”

Dice games: “Cruel Summer”, “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince”

Card games: “New Romantics”, “End Game”, “Cornelia Street”, “It’s Nice To Have A Friend”

Sports/contests: “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince”

Puzzles: “So It Goes…”

Each of the four obvious groups of songs illustrate a different way Taylor weaves the natures of true love and time together:

Déjà vu: “So It Goes…”

Hindsight/wisdom: “…Ready For It?”, “End Game”, “Look What You Made Me Do”

Fate: “Cruel Summer”, “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince”

Progress: “New Romantics”, “End Game”, “Cornelia Street”, “It’s Nice To Have A Friend”

Déjà vu

The puzzles category only contains one song, making it easiest to analyze. The namesake of “So It Goes…” is Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five, famously constructed like a mosaic. Puzzles are central to the meaning of this song.

“All Too Well” contains the first instance of a puzzle metaphor in her discography:

Autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place

Taylor calls back to “All Too Well” in the chorus of “So It Goes…”

And our pieces fall

Right into place

Get caught up in the moment

Lipstick on your face

By referencing a previous song using identical phrasing, Taylor creates the illusion of a sudden ‘déjà vu’ moment. The effect is similar to “You Are in Love,” where she reaches sudden enlightenment.

Sonically and lyrically, the “moment” she gets caught up in is implied to be the one in which she gets lost in passionate sex. The déjà vu moment could be this moment, but it doesn’t have to be. Déjà vu is agnostic to the present in the sense that the feeling can be triggered in the strangest of times. The déjà vu moment is whatever prompted her to write this song.

This game lyric connection clearly shows how a moment of love is defined by a moment of time.

Hindsight/Wisdom

The bombastic group of singles, “…Ready For It?”, “End Game,” and “Look What You Made Me Do,” sets the tone for all of reputation. The ‘generic’ games in these songs are the same as those in 1989, particularly the crude (and, in Taylor’s case, often interchangeable) games of celebrity and dating. In “Blank Space,” Taylor spells out in gory detail what she does as an agent in the celebrity dating game. She does not explicitly define the rules of that game, though. It remains sufficient for her to prove that she knows how to play by them. (Musically, this is far more interesting.)

We know that the reputation singles’ literal proximity to 1989 indicates Taylor’s direct emotional response the previous era. The consequences of a ‘fall from grace’ underpin the entire reputation era. Therefore, Taylor uses lyrical connections from reputation back to 1989 to illustrate hindsight. She tells us what she learned from her mistakes and what she wished she would have done differently.

But first, she gets to be salty about it. In “Look What You Made Me Do,” Taylor laments the fact that she participates in public games to appease others. (Because, really, withdrawing from the celebrity circus would immediately solve a lot of her problems. Alas, megastardom is a Venus flytrap.)

I don't like your little games

Don't like your tilted stage

The role you made me play

Of the fool, no, I don't like you

Let’s return to “Blank Space” for a moment. Taylor’s boyfriend in “Blank Space” is considered a co-conspirator/collaborator with her in the celebrity dating game. Central to our understanding of that song, however, is the unequal power dynamic. Taylor is the strategic mastermind, whereas her boyfriend is just along for the ride. The two are on the same team, but they are not equals.

Taylor actually leans further into the games of the 1989 era in “…Ready For It?”

Baby, let the games begin

Unlike in 1989, her partner is an equal on her team:

Me, I was a robber first time that he saw me

Stealing hearts and running off and never saying sorry

But if I'm a thief, then he can join the heist

And we'll move to an island

She then connects “…Ready For It?” to “End Game”

Baby, let the games begin

Are you ready for it?

I wanna be your end game

Both Taylor and her partner are forced to play the same game and they share share the same goal. Her partner’s “end game” is Taylor; thus, Taylor keeps her true love by beating the celebrity dating game. They have to work together to achieve this difficult task.

Though the celebrity dating game is not true love, it impacts Taylor’s relationship with anyone who could be her true love. In hindsight, Taylor realizes how media games blew up in her face. It is wisdom—to keep her relationship private, to dial down on PR tomfoolery, to prioritize her happiness—that helps her pre-empt these problems for the reputation era. And indeed we understand the love story of reputation as the lovers’ prolonged attempt to hide from the public eye.

Hindsight comes with the natural passage of time. One only accrues wisdom, however, when they apply the lessons of hindsight to make better judgements about the future. Games again unite the ideas of love and time; they elucidate how Taylor uses wisdom to protect someone she loves.

Fate

“Cruel Summer” and “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” highlight the elegance of the meta-rule of thumb.

The dice game in “Cruel Summer” is a unique incarnation of the game metaphor because Taylor doesn’t confirm whether she is directly involved in this game:

Devils roll the dice

Angels roll their eyes

What doesn’t kill me makes me want you more // And if I bleed you’ll be the last to know

The song doesn’t reveal much about the nature of the dice game other than the fact that it is competitive. It could be a fitting description of what is going on in Taylor’s personal life. It may not be. What is more important is that Taylor positions herself as collateral damage of the outcome of the game.

This is also the dice game’s first appearance. By our rule of thumb, this lyric exists only to be a link to “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince.”

“Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” belongs to two different game categories, sports/contests and dice games.

First, dice games. We get a few more answers about the nature of the “Cruel Summer” competition:

It's you and me

That's my whole world

They whisper in the hallway, "she's a bad, bad girl"

The whole school is rolling fake dice

You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes

It's you and me

There's nothing like this

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince

We're so sad, we paint the town blue

Voted most likely to run away with you

Both Taylor and her partner are forced to play the dice game by virtue of being metaphorical students. As a disgraced and about-to-be-vagrant prom queen, Taylor has finally realized that winning the school’s dice game is not worth the price of a ‘fall from grace.’

Next, sports/contests. With the understanding of these lyrics as pointers to her previous songs, sports/contests harkens back to “The Story of Us,” “Long Live,” and “Stay Stay Stay.”

“The Story Of Us” suggests that a shared quality of sports/contest metaphors is that conflict is nuanced, even hidden to outsiders:

This is looking like a contest

Of who can act like they care less

In “Stay Stay Stay,” football is connected to (for lack of a better word) violence, conflict that could result in emotional and physical harm:

I'm pretty sure we almost broke up last night

I threw my phone across the room at you

I was expecting some dramatic turn away

But you stayed

This morning I said we should talk about it

'Cause I read you should never leave a fight unresolved

That's when you came in wearing a football helmet

And said, "Okay, let's talk"

Finally, “Long Live” blends the ideas of small town Americana with Taylor’s personal and professional life:

I said remember this moment

In the back of my mind

The time we stood with our shaking hands

The crowds in stands went wild

I said remember this feeling

I passed the pictures around

Of all the years that we stood there on the sidelines

Wishing for right now

We are the kings and the queens

You traded your baseball cap for a crown

When they gave us our trophies

And we held them up for our town

And the cynics were outraged

Screaming, "this is absurd"

'Cause for a moment a band of thieves in ripped up jeans

Got to rule the world

The backdrop of “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” is not just any part of America. The juxtaposition of idyllic parts of American life with frictional, violent, yet sometimes subtle forces tells us that the song’s backdrop is an American culture war. It is conflict which unsettles everyone, but by nature hurts only some.

In totality, the function of the dice game metaphor is to position Taylor as collateral damage of an American culture war. (Chew on that one for a bit.)

Again, we probably could have surmised this by examining the lyrics closely. The song lends itself to being a signpost in the Lover chronology. It seems too autobiographical to be anything different. We all remember 2016.

However, “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” sticks out like a sore thumb from the album’s theme of “a love letter to love itself.” Revisiting games as a glue between love and time expands on the purpose of “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” in Lover.

The “Cruel Summer” bridge contains this lyric understood to be about her true love:

And I snuck in through the garden gate

Every night that summer just to seal my fate

Taylor identifies “that summer” in the 1989 era as the moment which she sealed her fate. Implicit in this confirmation is her perspective from the future. She is looking back on 1989 from the time when her terrible fate has just been realized.

The moment of realization is—you guessed it—the chorus of “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince.” The chorus depicts post-prom queen defamation. Taylor is aware of every single action (many, probably deliberate) that helped her achieve royalty. She never divulges them. The song is scoped only to the time when she lives her fate.

We usually take observations about fate and love to describe how two souls are bound to each other. Taylor does not tell us much about her lover in “Cruel Summer” sans the fact that the shape of their body is new. Paying special attention to games reframes “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” within the Lover theme as a commentary on fate. However, the emphasis of fate should not be on her lover. The dice game connection tells us that Taylor views “that summer” in the 1989 era as the time when she sealed her fate as collateral damage in the American culture war. From the “love letter to love itself” perspective, the moral is that passion and excitement can make lovers forget the immutability of individual destiny. If you are fated to be with someone, both of you are at the mercy of whatever the world has in store for the partnership and you as individuals.

Progress

An eclectic group of songs shares a reference to bluffing in a card game. The game metaphor beautifully stitches these songs together into parts of the same story.

The first and most detailed description of the card game is in “New Romantics”

We're all here

the lights and boys are blinding

We hang back

It's all in the timing

It's poker

He can't see it in my face

But I'm about to play my ace

A bluff in poker is an attempt to trick one’s opponent into thinking one has a better hand than they do in reality. The opponent may call their bluff and challenge them to prove their hand is as good as they advertise.

Bluffing requires deception, often telegraphed by facial expressions. Here, Taylor says that she is good at bluffing because she doesn’t let her façade crack. She is not truly bluffing, though, because she possesses an ace, presumably part of her even better hand. Her opponent has called her perceived bluff to prompt to her to reveal the ace.

The opponent, “he,” behaves as though Taylor is bluffing. Taylor, strategic as ever, is prepared to counter by revealing the most powerful card. We should thus interpret this metaphor as the ‘bluffer’ exceeding expectations. (Remember that the first instance of a metaphor is a base case, so we must take its meaning more literally.)

Likewise, in “End Game” and “It’s Nice To Have A Friend”, Taylor is the bluffer:

You've been calling my bluff on all my usual tricks

Call my bluff, call you "babe"

However, “Cornelia Street” allows room for the interpretation that both Taylor and her lover are bluffers:

Back when we were card sharks, playing games

I thought you were leading me on

I packed my bags, left Cornelia Street

Before you even knew I was gone

But then you called, showed your hand

I turned around before I hit the tunnel

Sat on the roof, you and I

Taylor may have also been a trickster: “then you called” could refer to the lover calling Taylor’s bluff.

The recurring bluff metaphor coincides with progress or forward momentum in a relationship.

Recall a previous discussion of “New Romantics.” We defined the “it” which is “all in the timing” as a reference to finding romance. “New Romantics” is set in a club with a dance floor, boys, and blinding lights. It’s the kind of setting conducive only to landing one-night stands. Taylor plays games with someone in the club, but exceeds expectations for the outcome of that game. What was flirting or courting becomes something more serious than a one night stand (i.e. an actual relationship). The act of calling a bluff in a card game engenders (relationship) progress. Yet again, what is intrinsic to time is intrinsic to love.

This observation fits with each song.

reputation charts the development of Taylor’s relationship, but the card game bluff in “End Game” is at the beginning of the album. That’s exactly why this lyric works so well. Her relationship is still new, nonetheless significant, after 1989. Her verse mixes these ideas:

I hit you like bang

We tried to forget it, but we just couldn't

And I bury hatchets but I keep maps of where I put 'em

And I can't let you go, your hand print's on my soul

The “End Game” bluff represents how Taylor goes from wanting a steady relationship to wanting everything.

You might be able to see where this is going. “It’s Nice To Have A Friend” is the ‘discographical endpoint’ of the bluff metaphor. The verse about marriage delivers the song’s emotional punch:

Church bells ring, carry me home

Rice on the ground looks like snow

Call my bluff, call you "babe"

Have my back, yeah, everyday

Feels like home, stay in bed

The whole weekend

Notice, however, that the bluff metaphor occurs after the implied wedding. This is actually a beautiful sentiment. Intimacy, trust, and commitment are ongoing; growth doesn’t stop with a ring on a finger. The bluff, which represents delivering on promises and exceeding expectations for love, powers the relationship forward.

All signs point to the “Cornelia Street” bluff as the one that may have led to marriage.

Back when we were card sharks, playing games

I thought you were leading me on

I packed my bags, left Cornelia Street

Before you even knew I was gone

But then you called, showed your hand

I turned around before I hit the tunnel

Sat on the roof, you and I

So emotionally charged is this scene that we have to wonder what, exactly, Taylor’s steady partner could do to make her (1) walk out if she were being led on and (2) come back so quickly.

The most intriguing detail about this card game is that both parties may have been bluffing. The lover is leading Taylor on, but Taylor does not stay to call the bluff. She leaves. Usually in poker, one would not want their opponent to be able to prove the bluff with a good hand. (Think back to the ace in “New Romantics”.) But what if both players are on the same team at the end of the day? Calling a bluff is now setting oneself up for potential disappointment. Taylor walks out because she is frightened by the mere possibility of being let down.

Taylor is also bluffing, but her lover doesn’t let her walk away so easily. They pull out all the stops and concede their hand in a desperate attempt to get Taylor to turn around from the tunnel. It works. By our understanding of the bluff metaphor, the lover exceeds all of Taylor’s expectations. The events that transpire on the roof presumably are when Taylor reveals her own cards.

The topic of marriage fits with this emotionally charged scene. Of course both lovers would tiptoe around the topic and be scared to reveal their true feelings.

So following the bluff metaphor helps us follow the course of true love. Calling and revealing a bluff is the catalyst for Taylor’s relationship. However, it also is the nature of time which underpins progress.

I concede that interpreting the bluff metaphor as the catalyst of a story makes it vulnerable to any truth-fuzzing. Perhaps Taylor hasn’t ever written about a real-life engagement or marriage. We have no way of knowing. We instead should take comfort in the fact that her lyrics are beautiful and music is open to interpretation.

On Writing

Our beliefs about love are bound to change over time. As a writer, Taylor is in a unique position to capture this change by revisiting a metaphor.

Take “It’s Nice To Have A Friend.” The song is written as a series of vignettes to define the qualities of love that remain consistent while relationships change over time. The middle vignette, with its reference to “twenty questions,” could very well point back to the same day as the “Cornelia Street” card game. Feelings reoccur in certain moments—déjà vu. The first vignette is a picture of childhood. The last vignette is a picture of adulthood. Therefore, it seems just as natural to interpret the middle vignette as a picture of adolescence or young adulthood. Light pink skies, back-and-forth conversations, and brave, soft moments of intimacy illustrate a coming-of-age experience. The same moment that pulls Taylor forward in her relationship is the one that also pulls her back to a different time.

Then the coming-of-age experience is reminiscent of the portrait of Americana, the Friday night lights, marching band, and high school prom. During adolescence, we only have an inkling of our futures. We are less aware of all the ways we are connected to others and our world. Young and impressionable, our only job is to live, to change, to make memories and mistakes. Memories and mistakes define what was, and experience creates wisdom that shapes what will be. So Taylor captures this duality in fate. The moment a fate is realized is a moment that is equally a fossil of the past and a forecast for the future. The moment it all makes sense…eureka!

As an artist, Taylor’s job is to communicate her human experience. Listeners decide whether or not she successfully telegraphs what is universal about it. However, Taylor is no more of a spokesperson for the universal human experience than anyone else. She simply possesses the talent, work ethic, and privilege to make a career of it.

Consider Taylor’s own summary of the past decade:

I once believed love would be burnin' red

But it's golden

She consciously and elegantly edits her previous beliefs about love. (Obviously, she may plant callbacks to previous songs purely for fun. This one is certainly sincere.) These lines illustrate the craft she has worked hard to develop.

Manifested in her craft is the need to revisit her ideas. It seems as though certain recurring metaphors have become the only way for her to accurately capture some parts of love. They become self-perpetuating. Unforced yet expressive subconscious consistency constitutes artistry. It is artistry which compels us to believe in the universality of music.

The self-perpetuating love/games metaphor is especially fascinating. It is one of the purest examples, though perhaps also one of the strangest, of how writing about love engenders new experiences of it. Taylor translates love into game language. Games illustrate duality. Duality is love.

Perhaps this conclusion is something others already know about Taylor’s talent. I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on it until now.

To me, it seems like the songs are writing themselves.

#taylor swift #kaylor #gaylor swift #music analysis #my post

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everydayanth · 4 years

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Question re: cultural appropriation: I am Vampirically WhiteTM (I combust/evaporate if exposed to sunlight over 5 seconds), but I sometimes do *all* my hair in tiny, uneven plaits that don't hug my scalp. Answers on various forums seem to only distinguish between big/sparse braids & Black hairstyles, so there isn't a nuanced answer for, "This style isn't Cornrows but I *do* use all my hair." [1/2]

The intention *isn't* to cuddle up as closely to traditionally African styles as possible, but rather so I can take the braids out 3 days later to poof up like a lion/Princess Merida. Humans are a braiding, weaving species, I really do like doing this thing, & I'm not always of the mindset that just b/c something *might* be problematic, I should just bend to my anxieties/White Guilt. Am I still sending the wrong message with my style? [2/2]

Honestly, I have to start by saying I’m a white female, so the action/consequence of this process holds no harm over me and therefore my answer cannot speak for the people (black, specifically women) being potentially appropriated. I can only speak of my own development and understanding of appropriating black culture, specifically with hair.

I grew up in a “black neighborhood” (a problematic concept in itself) and in school, we sat in a train-line of girls during read-aloud and braided each others’ hair. I learned to braid black hair by 2nd grade. We were kids, we saw the differences in our phenotypic traits, but we adapted and didn’t mind much. One time a friend tried oiling my hair and it did not end well, lol, I was a greasy mop the whole day. Braiding was culturally relevant to us as friends, but also to me as an individual: my mom would braid my hair on her good days. In the summer, she would put my hair in many tiny loose braids, similar to what you described, not cornrows, but small braids because it was hot and we didn’t have ac and it was an easy solution. We were judged accordingly based on uniform and size and I distinctly remember the day I learned about the use of a long pinky nail, lol. I didn’t think about it much until I got to high school, then college and studied social science and talked to POC friends there and really began to understand the problems.

It’s not the act of wearing your hair in a particular style, we humans learn from each other, we copy, we reproduce, we recreate, and we do it for decoration and efficiency or usefulness. Every culture plays with hair and braids and for every example of appropriation, someone has a counter example perceived to be “their ancestors” or some sort of genetic heritage (”I’m 1/32 Native”) giving them rights to partake in a specific kind of decoration or practice. But that’s not the issue. The issue is that when black people, specifically black women, wear their hair in braids, they are treated disrespectfully by our society, while when white people, specifically women, wear locs or braids, they are often rewarded for being worldly or exotic or interesting.

There is not a common consensus; “black people” are not made of a uniform opinion, and whether something is problematic or offensive varies from one person to another. Appropriation, however, is a little easier to spot because it comes with a reward to some but with a punishment to the people who owned, initiated, or historically created or utilized a thing in the same way.

Black hair and hairstyles have been historically degraded, and its easy to think we live in a better world, but when Kim Kardashian wears “boxer braids” it becomes a trend, while Sasha Obama’s braids were criticized or attributed to past trends rather than her own rich ancestry. When Zendaya shows up in beautiful dreads and dressed to the nines, she is met with racist remarks, while Christina Aguilera’s were considered an “urban” phase.

Appropriation comes from capitalizing off something that isn’t yours, or that you can remove from your identity should the oppressor challenge you (thus why “white-passing” is often part of the conversation). Actively fighting against it means educating yourself on histories of oppression and abuse, modern social perspectives of white privilege, and what we do with all those pieces.

Black girls are sent home from school or suspended all the time for wearing their hair naturally, in traditional styles, or in styles like weaves that make black hair easier to manage in a non-African climate. Loose braids worn by black girls are still condemned in schools today, while white girls back from Jamaica go unpunished and their braids and beads remain a symbol of money, experience, and privilege. Black men, as well as black LGBTQ+ individuals, are also judged harshly by different (often white-dominated) groups for their own styles and are definitely part of the conversation.

Understanding the role of hair in culture and seeing the ongoing inequality is the most important thing we can do. Ideally, someday, we live in a world where we can all do what we want so long as it doesn’t harm another person, but we do not live there, and BIPOC are much more subjected to policing of their images, bodies, and especially hair than white people.

Hair dressers learn white hair by default, not both, most kids never learn about different hair textures or the evolutionary purpose for the differences, they simply learn that one majority group can do whatever they like without negative reinforcement, while the other must adhere to strict rules to emulate the look of the majority with chemicals, expensive tools, and treatments, or be mocked, judged, degraded, and not able to participate in society without fear or ridicule of their personhood, their bodies, their natural selves, as well as the potential loss of job security, violence, or harsher social punishments, like ostracization, being jailed, or murdered by police without consequence. How a majority identifies an “other” has historically included hair texture and style as well as skin color.

Personally, I think intent matters. I don’t braid my hair anymore as a public style. Sure, I braid clumps of it while watching TV or hanging out around the house if I want something of a uniform wave (my mom has type 3 and my dad has type 2 and I got a franken-head of both lol), but I don’t wear many braids as a style out in public. Wearing braids as a young kid made me look like the girls in my class, it connected me to the people around me, and I was subjected to judgement by the black moms based on quality (at least those who spoke up, again, I was a child). I was blending, but when I got to high school, I realized that wearing braids brought an attention with it - oh, you’re interesting, or pretentious, but for my POC friends, employers made them remove braids. They heard condescending things like “your hair is too ghetto” while I began to hear that I was the “ghetto friend, wow so cool and cultured and street smart.” It was always insulting, but one is shittier (you know which one) because it is only condescending, and seeks to erase culture and judges based on racist biases.

If we normalize black hairstyles through popular trends, that seems like a good thing, right? But if white people are the ones normalizing it, then the agency of black people has been taken away from the black communities and restored through a white-savior complex. Not free will or choice, but through the appropriation of their own culture which then replaces the act of demonstrating culture (like wearing braids) as an act of the oppressor mocking and being praised.

I know or plenty of white girls who wore braids or dreads or black hairstyles as a counter-culture identifier, in the way of popular artists and celebrities, but also activists and stoners appropriating Rastafarian culture. This makes black culture a counter-culture instead of an aspect of American culture or black culture within America that is respected and valued inherently. It otherizes, fetishizes, and tokenizes black culture, takes advantage of the current racist system and white privilege/bias, and gains an aesthetic. That is an intent to appropriate for social gains, and it’s all over the music industry and Hollywood.

At the end of the day, I don’t think my opinion here can matter, I’m not harmed by your action. Braids are braids and I have a... not-normal history of exposure and love of black hair that most white girls don’t, but even then, I had to grow and listen and understand the nuances of my environment and the society around it. Is it different wearing styles in the middle of nowhere with no social interactions vs. posting on social media or interacting in society? Yeah, I think it is.

So I suppose the sum of the parts is:

Are you benefitting socially from wearing your hair this way? If so, then yeah, that’s sucky for the BIPOC people being pushed down for doing the same and is harmful appropriation. How you measure that seems to depend on intent, so the bias of wanting to keep doing something you like has to be accounted for.

Is your intent to fit an aesthetic? If so, yeah, definitely a problem.

Reflect on why you like doing this, what is it you gain or feel or imbibe or get out of the experience in the first place? I’d say at the end of the day, know the history of oppression that exists in America and around the world. Being aware and able to identify appropriation in media, pop culture, and everyday life, as well as the history of it, allows you to be an ally.

And finally, do you listen to what people are saying?

If/when people say things about your hair, understand that you are a social exception to the style and address it. I do think there is a responsibility to engage in these conversations when we ride the line of these grey areas, like when culture is shared with us, to what extent we participate and own it is 100% dependent on that relationship. Be willing to hear black people if they say it is uncomfortable, listen to what they mean, have a conversation about it and be willing to let go of a thing you want if that is the feedback you get.

I think a lot of appropriation comes from the denial of history and the ignorance of oppression. If Kim K made a statement that said “these aren’t boxer braids, they are cornrows, worn by African American women for centuries, mocked and ridiculed by white culture, but have been an efficient way to manage African textured hair in the new climate environment of the Americas when forced here as slaves. Many were forcibly shaven, but for those who were allowed to express themselves in small subtle ways as slaves, through jim crow, and even today, the decoration and design of cornrows was and is incredibly meaningful.” That’s a different conversation about appropriation, that’s using privilege and platform without placating or denying the experiences of others to educate and address appropriation, rather than solely profiting off the attention and claiming to create a “trend.” Black hair is beautiful and should be appreciated and allowed to be as bold or big as an individual wants it to be.

Hair is one of the coolest, most useful phenotypic traits of thermoregulation in humans/primates, and science still has a few questions yet to research regarding the evolution of different textures and colors. Your own hair texture can change over time, as you grow, especially in women, depending on hormones, especially through pregnancy, nutrition, and chemical treatments like chemotherapy, as well as genetics, and even environmental changes in water hardness, haircare routine and treatment materials.

With slavery, migrations, immigrations, and other historic and contemporary movements of humans comes the issues of adaption and change to fit the new environment, fighting forced assimilation, colonization, denial of cultural expression, and active racism. We need to be able to talk about these aspects of race in society and listen if and when people say what we are doing is harmful. I think the most important thing to do is educate ourselves on the purpose, history, and meaning of a thing, particularly if we are gaining positive attention from it while others suffer for it. Talk to people of color around you who are willing to offer an opinion, and listen to them. Research the history and speak up when you see the double standard in practice.

My line is here: if I can find evidence of a POC being criticized for a style (and it’s not my natural hair), I’m not going to wear that style in public or on social media, but I am going to praise it, and criticize those racist comments degrading or demeaning it, I will champion it and demand schools do away with discriminating hair policies, and ask my library to spend money on children’s books about black hair, and do the work of finding black people voicing their opinions, or having a vulnerable and authentic conversation with a friend, then listen and make a judgement from there. If the consensus is that the style is harmful and you continue to wear it, then yeah I’d say that’s a pretty bad message that says: I just don’t care, I want to do this so I will.

This follows a moral judgement for me: if you love someone and they tell you a thing you do is actively harming them and show you evidence of the harm (as in: it’s not just annoying, but actually harmful to them), but you continue to participate in the thing, that’s not love. I can’t fully picture the specific style, and I don’t know your intent or if/how you gain from the style, so I’m having a hard time forming a full opinion. Is this a style that has been addressed by black communities as harmful? Is it a few different styles put together? Are you in a diverse place, are you criticized for the look, is it even a look to you?

Personally, I’d say it rides too close to the line for my own comfort and I wouldn’t be wearing a multi-braid style in public (as in more than two, I rock the french-braid pigtails while hiking because its easier to find ticks), but again, I’m not someone who would be being harmed by it. I often try to resist judgement of strangers’ hair unless I know them and their background or platform, because I don’t know their culture, ancestry, or heritage, so I don’t hold others in society to the same standard as myself.

I’d love to hear other peoples’, particularly POC, opinions and experiences with hair and appropriation.

If there are a few un-uniform braids, is it different than many uniform loose braids, what about compared to cornrows, where is your personal line? Is it different from your social line? How would you judge or hold people accountable in society?

P.s. Thanks for asking and trying to learn more about the potential social impact you are having. I think that’s a great step toward a more equal world that can appreciate culture without taking advantage of others. It sounds like you’re trying to do your research to learn more about whether your action is having a negative consequence, and I appreciate you taking the time to be vulnerable and research and question yourself. I think that also has to be rewarded.

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disneyat34 · 4 years

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Dumbo at 34

A review by Adam D. Jaspering

We remember things as we want to remember them. Memories distort perception and perception distorts reality. Childhood is especially remembered well. If not the entire childhood, elements. People romanticize memories from the feelings they evoke, and discard the reality.

The circus is a prime example. The circus was once a staple of American pleasure. It brought entertainment, excitement, and exotic animals to small towns across the US. In days before the internet, before TV, and before movies were mainstream, it was a necessity.

People remember the old-timey charm, the whimsical environments and otherworldly aura. Nobody wants to remember the adverse working conditions, the high rate of injury, or the gross abuse of animals. Nobody remembers the smell of port-a-potties or the heaps of animal manure. People remember the calliopes and cotton candy.

It’s quite appropriate Dumbo takes place at a circus. Everybody remembers the movie fondly, but nobody seems to acknowledge its flaws. It’s heralded uncontested as a Disney masterpiece despite a number of problematic issues.

For starters, the film is only 64 minutes in length. This includes the opening credits. From a logistical standpoint, one can understand the purpose. Disney Studios took a financial hit from Pinocchio and Fantasia. They needed something not only profitable, but cheap. The same way that a three-wheeled car saves money on tires.

The story of Dumbo is one of growth and confidence when faced with adversity and doubt. However, the plot is about a young elephant finding an act in a circus. Dumbo tries, and he fails. He tries again, he fails again. Finally, he tries and he succeeds. An entire plot thread seems missing from the film. Dumbo learning to fly (both literally and figuratively) should support a larger narrative.

There are no stakes for Dumbo. His failures don’t affect the circus’s income or popularity. Dumbo is ostracized, but still cared for as well as any other animal in the show. He is ridiculed, but still performs every night.

The movie ends before any growth or change is displayed by the secondary characters. Everybody likes Dumbo once he can fly, but do they like him, or do they like his profitability and popularity? If a lion with an extra long tail is born, will he be mocked until he earns respect too?

Everybody in the circus feels comfortable calling him “Dumbo” at the movie’s end. Canonically, his official name is Jumbo Jr, named so by his mother. Everybody calls him Dumbo, a deliberate insult. The name sticks, even for the viewing audience. Either Dumbo begrudgingly accepts this epithet, or reclaims it. Either way, at least his mother should refuse it.

Dumbo’s mother is Mrs Jumbo, a pariah and outcast among the other circus elephants. What causes this exclusion is never explained or hinted at. The other elephants are just jerks. She has no friends, no confidantes, and is apparently widowed; there is never a mention or allusion of a Mr Jumbo. She has nobody in her life. This is presumably why she is so desperate to become a mother at the movie’s inception.

The film begins with a muster of storks delivering babies to various circus animals. It’s a cartoon staple and a very convenient workaround, explaining the miracle of a baby without the depiction of childbirth or implications of procreation. It also justifies how Dumbo is born despite there being no male elephants anywhere in the circus.

For whatever reason, these storks all deliver their parcels on the same night. All except for Mrs Jumbo’s coveted baby elephant. Baby Dumbo is delivered the following day. After seeing everyone else enjoying their children. After her hopes are dashed. There’s no explanation why the stork arrives late, well after the circus is dismantled and loaded aboard a train. Dumbo is delivered a day late for the sake of drama.

The train itself is almost a character itself. It has a name: Casey Jr. It has a face. It emotes. It speaks. But can he be rightfully called a character? Casey Jr doesn’t interact with other characters. He has no goals or desires besides acting and moving like an ordinary train. It’s an odd design choice, leaving Casey Jr halfway between being a robot and the pathetic fallacy.

Casey Jr is an interpretation of the famed children’s story, The Little Engine That Could. Casey Jr even uses the famous line, “I think I can, I think I can” as he climbs a hill. The story’s most famous interpretation was a 1930s picture book by Watty Piper (a name one could only have in the 1930s). The character and story itself belongs to the public domain.

It wouldn’t surprise me if somebody at Disney Studios tried and failed to make an animated short based on the story. As consolation, they retrofitted the character for a bit part in an unrelated, developing film. The cumbersomely named 'Little Engine That Could' was renamed ‘Casey Jr,’ and a new character is added to Dumbo's universe. A character Dumbo never meets or interacts with, and has no bearing on the plot. If nothing else, he adds five minutes to Dumbo’s anemic runtime.

Design is one of Dumbo’s weakest points. Human characters are hyper-stylized caricatures of actual people. Perhaps intentionally, so we empathize more with the comparatively realistic animals. But the animators went too far. The Ringmaster is so rotund, he seems inflated. The clowns have bizarre proportions which are somehow reigned in by their baggy costumes and floppy shoes. The rowdy child who assaults Dumbo looks more like a chimpanzee than a boy.

The character of Timothy Q Mouse is perplexing. Is he employed by the circus, or just a circus enthusiast who hangs around the fairgrounds after hours? What would a circus gain from hiring a mouse? Why does he dress like a bandleader? Does this imply an unseen mouse marching band? He never displays any musical ability. He’s there because the movie needs him to be there.

Being Dumbo’s sole friend is Timothy’s secondary purpose. His primary purpose is to outwardly verbalize the thoughts and emotions of Dumbo. Our protagonist is mute throughout the film and most characters avoid talking to Dumbo directly. Without Timothy, Dumbo would stare at camera sadly for the movie’s run.

The circus folk themselves are weird, and not just their physical attributes. The Ringmaster is a bombastic Italian man who, as Timothy describes, “never had an idea in his life.” He seems genuine, eager to entertain his audience with an entertaining and original show. His real malice is never workshopping ideas. He will not hesitate to endanger the lives of his employees or animals on his fanciful whims.

Can six full-grown elephants balance on a rubber ball? Who knows. Let’s put it in the show. Is it safe to have a baby elephant drop twenty feet into a washtub full of shaving cream? We’ll find out. Is it a good idea to start a fire underneath a canvas tent for the sake of a firefighter sketch? The audience likes it, so who cares? Go stand next to the fire, clowns.

There’s an old adage about doing anything for a laugh, but the clowns from Dumbo take it to a sociopathic extreme. The clowns develop an entire act around humiliating Dumbo. When the skit is a success, they drunkenly decide to put Dumbo in more humiliating situations and more precarious stunts.

It’s implied the clowns are the low men in the circus’s caste; those who cannot perform elsewhere are subjected to the humiliation of clowndom. Does the scorn beget the malice, or did the malice beget the scorn?

Perhaps this is why the clowns are never shown as actual humans. Throughout the movie, they either appear in their grotesque, make-up clad personas, or in various states of undress as silhouettes inside a circus tent. At all times, they are either 100% clown or some spectral figure. They are never seen as human, because there is certainly no humanity to them.

However, the most questionable employees are the laborers. The laborers are not entertainers; they have no face time with any circus patrons. And yet, they are the most important employees of the circus. They are responsible for unloading the train and erecting the many circus structures.

These laborers, tasked with the most arduous and backbreaking of work, are all large black men. As a stylistic choice, they are all depicted faceless. Not even worthy of dignity, they are robbed of any identity and distinguishing characteristics beyond skin color.

To cushion our objections, the laborers sing about how much they like the work. The song is no comfort. They sing about being illiterate. They sing about being underpaid, and routinely subject to wage theft. They sing about how its their very nature to be irresponsible with money. They literally use the word “slave,” and “ape” to describe their circumstances. Thank you, 1940s.

The only other black characters are a murder of crows introduced in act three. These crows must be less racist in depiction and demeanor than the laborers, right? They couldn't possibly be worse, right? Then one learns the leader of the avian posse was named “Jim Crow” on all Disney material until the 1960s.

The entire Civil Rights Movement needed to happen, but somebody eventually realized a children’s cartoon character named after the most provocative blackface character in history, the namesake of the American laws that enforced segregation, was a bad idea. It didn’t help Jim was voiced by a white actor. Cliff Edwards voiced Jim Crow (later renamed Dandy Crow), the same actor also voiced Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio. Jiminy Cricket has appeared regularly as a beloved figure in Disney merchandise and material. Dandy Crow has not.

To Disney’s credit, the other crows were voiced by actual black actors. Although, one has to wonder if the AAVE was written into the screenplay, or if the director asked the actors to create it on the spot. There’s no good answer.

The crows’ musical number was performed by the all-black Hall Johnson Choir (with the exception of Edwards’s vocals). Their number, When I See an Elephant Fly, is one of the better pieces of music in the Disney catalog. It's full of jazz scatting and clever wordplay. It’s a shame its existence is marred by its racially charged source.

How an oversized pair of ears grants the ability to fly is not important. It’s a cartoon. The ears are a means to an end: the physical feature that made Dumbo a laughingstock also granted him a most unique ability. Differences make us strong. It’s a good moral (even if the film is hypocritical).

The depiction of the moral’s resolution, however, raises eyebrows. Upon discovering he has the ability to fly, Dumbo seizes the opportunity to take revenge on those who wronged him. He circles around the big top, swooping at the ringmaster, scaring the clowns, shooting peanuts at the other elephants like bullets from a machine gun. ‘Make your enemies pay,’ is the takeaway. Suffer all, enemies of Dumbo.

Some may argue Dumbo’s character arc is not redemption for himself, but for his mother. Mrs Jumbo spanks a young boy who assaults her infant son. The circus folk misinterpret this act as a rampage. She’s is subsequently shackled and imprisoned for the forseeable future.

Even after being deemed hazardous and mad, Mrs Jumbo is never sent away. There is no indication of punishment beyond isolation (why the circus keeps a dangerous rampaging elephant on circus grounds is a creative liberty). The true punishment is being separated from her son.

The movie ends with Dumbo as the star of the show. Everyone sings his praises, he has his own personal train car, and Mrs Jumbo is freed. The question is, why is Mrs Jumbo freed? Just because Dumbo is beloved, why is Mrs Jumbo’s perception as a threat forgotten? Why is she forgiven because her son is popular? Dumbo cannot speak, how can he serve as a character witness? Why does Dumbo's achievement redeem his mother's actions? The writers delivered a happy ending by solving a problem that was never actually solved.

Dumbo is a film full of illogical scenes and developments. It's grandfathered into the cultural pantheon despite outdated imagery and storytelling. It has good intentions, utilizing themes of overcoming adversity, the endurance of familial love, and appreciating each other's differences. But these good intentions are drowned in too many narrative shortcuts and a sloppy execution. It’s a pleasant movie the less you remember, and most people’s memories are hazy. What’s more appropriate from a film whose most famous scene is a surreal drunken musical hallucination?

Fantasia Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs Pinocchio Dumbo

#Dumbo #Disney #walt disney #Walt Disney Animation Studios #Film Criticism #film analysis #review #Disney Canon

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whimsyswastry · 4 years

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Quarantine Questionnaire

Thank you for the tag @pigeontheoneandonly — it gives me something to do when I’m laying in bed freaking out over the fate of the world. And I’m only halfway kidding. 😨

Are you staying home from work or school?

I’ve been unable to work since 2016 due to health, so neither? Although I have been taking an extraordinary amount of online coding and web design courses, so you could say I’m staying home from school.

If you’re staying home, who’s with you?

My spouse 💛, his mother, and his grandparents, and my crazy af basset mix Daisy Mayhem. We’re all crammed in like sardines for the quarantine. It’s certainly been a struggle at times, but it’s also a huge blessing having them here.

Are you a homebody?

Yes! Most days it’s just me, my dog, and my laptop. And I like it that way. Although, I must say, even though I’m not leaving home there’s still too many people around for me to feel comfortable and be productive. If everyone stays home, it stops being a quiet, serene work atmosphere.

An event that you were looking forward to that got canceled.

E FUCKING 3. I don’t really care about the convention itself, I never go. But I was really hoping for a Dragon Age 4 trailer (or more realistically, just another teaser) or the Mass Effect Remake announcement that I was hoping and praying would be one of those “AVAILABLE NOW!” surprises.

What movies have you watched recently? What shows are you watching?

I recently saw Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle which was much better than I anticipated and The Imitation Game which kept my attention better than anything I’ve seen in a long, long time. As far as shows, my husband and I are watching The Last Ship (yes, we’re aware watching a show about a virus that kills 80% of the world’s population probably isn’t the best idea) and we’re rewatching Bob’s Burgers, because we need something lighthearted to end the day.

What music are you listening to?

I was actually shocked to find out that I created the #Solavellan playlist I’ve been listening to nonstop in 2018. There’s no way I’ve been listening to the same playlist for two years. 😂 To be fair, the playlist is like 130 songs.

What are you reading?

My best friends and I decided to start a quarantine book club. Our first choice was The Cuckoo’s Calling. I’m about 30-40% done with it and I am SO BORED. I feel like it’s one of those stories that would be amazing onscreen, but it just doesn’t translate well on the page. It’s literally just a series of interviews.

[EDIT: So, apparently I forgot to a question. My bad everyone.

What are you doing for self-care?

The same things I always do. Since I’ve been staying home for a few years now, I’ve realized how important it is to maintain a routine and also get fresh air. So, in the morning I wake up and do my coding until about 1. Then I spend about 90 minutes (provided it’s warm) outside with my dog. When I come in, I usually have an indulgent snack (dried mango, a frozen yogurt bar, etc.) and start whatever video game I’m playing. Then after dinner is when we stream The Last Ship. And at night I either read or play a ridiculous (but fun) mobile game, Kingdom of Heckfire (it’s a mock version of Clash of Clans). ]

I want to tag... @oops-gingermoment @radio-chatter @midnightprelude @obvidalous @andrastes--ass

#about whimsy

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 5 years

Text

Hard to be a Stark

I’ve learned that some of these are going to be mini series things within the overall world. I’m thinking Steve’s will have one more part. I have songs for Loki, and Bucky around the corner so keep a look out for those! And the sequels to Sam’s and Steve’s. :)

Also shout out to my beta, @songforherma. They are awesome and handle my crazy very well. XD

Summary: Various Avenger x Reader one-shots with songs from musicals. In this one — Tony Stark has been doing the Ironman for a while now. Kissing babies, shaking hands, still flirting all the live long day, but it’s getting harder and harder to put up the facade. So what happens when his new assistant, you, see him having a drunken heart to heart? Song is “Hard to be the Bard” from Something Rotten!

Honestly - this one is a bit more platonic. If I write a sequel, the romance stuff will show up there.

Warnings: Angst, Drunk Tony, bit of fluff, confessions, cussing, reference to violence

Word Count: 3477 words

Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my permission. :)

Stark. The name in itself held…

Power.

Money.

Authority.

Respect.

But with all those things came…

Assumptions.

Expectations.

Anxiety.

Mockery.

Hostility.

Ignorance.

And understandable sorts of coping mechanisms.

Then came the day he declared himself the Ironman - a superhero meant to protect civilians when no one else could. Gone were the weapons of probable mass destruction his company had become so well known for. Now they were replaced by one. A suit of armor in the hands of one man who could only do his best to protect his country. He wanted to believe he was doing the right thing, taking the suit, doing something with it that helped create peace.

Then New York happened. The Avengers.

Everything shifted. Assumptions and expectations skyrocketed. Anxiety twisted its gnarly claws around his heart, opening the door and introducing a new friend — Post-traumatic stress disorder. He could act like it wasn’t there and that it didn’t exist, but then came the outside opinions. It was easier to ignore them when he was just a Stark. He could put up a facade, act like it didn’t bother him because no one knew what was going on underneath.

You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play, to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you.

Steve had cut him deep with that one. Mister Cap-sicle over here acting as he knew him. So what did he do?

I think I would just cut the wire.

Of course, after Tony risked his life with that stupid nuke, Steve realized he wasn’t as correct in his assumptions as he first thought. Tony snorted, taking a swig of Scotch before setting it on the counter. “You know what they say,” he spoke to himself. “Just makes an ass of you and me.”

But he couldn’t hold it against the old man after all Steve was dealing with a level of ignorance that came from being under the ice. His defense mechanism was mockery and hostility. Sitting in a chair, Tony stared stoically at the ironsuits across the room. They all looked like tin cans really, something made as a means for survival and turned into something greater. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms. There was always some new hostile just around the corner. That didn’t go away with the suits. If anything, he and the Avengers were greeted by more of them every day which included all of the superhuman threats that the world suddenly kept on facing.

And that was where the coping mechanisms took a turn from understandable to downright unhealthy. Pepper had told him that, commented on it and voiced her concerns like Pepper always does. She needed to work on her timing. That night he’d been black-out drunk and didn’t remember anything. JARVIS had to show him the footage the next day. Guilt wracked his body because he didn’t remember. He didn’t remember screaming at her or throwing the bottle. He didn’t remember telling her to get the fuck out or the fact that he fired her. No, he didn’t remember. And when he watched the video, watched his drunken self shoot a repulser blast to shatter the glass next to her? It was like he felt his heart shatter with it because he knew he didn’t remember that. He knew if he had been any soberer he wouldn’t have done it. He would’ve called Rhodey or Happy to get her out of there before he did something stupid.

However, that was a couple of months ago and now he had a new assistant. Some girl named Y/F/N Y/L/N. She was good at her job and Pepper made sure to find someone that could handle his narcissism and ridiculous schedule, somehow someone of that nature managed to fit the bill. Still - she wasn’t Pepper. He appreciated that she acknowledged that. She never tried to be anything other than herself and it quickly earned his respect.

Ding!

Tony shifted his gaze to the computer when the email popped up. Y/N had sent him his schedule for tomorrow. Brushing it with his pinky, he watched as it popped out of the tiny screen and presented itself as a hologram before him. He couldn’t hide the annoyed huff that escaped his lungs even if he wanted to. “My days are too busy for this,” he muttered, knowing everything was back to back with barely a moment to breathe. It wasn’t Y/N’s fault. She was trying to catch him up on the reality outside. “It’s making me dizzy, there’s so much I gotta do.” Standing up, he walked closer to the schedule and his face scrunched in distaste. “JARVIS, there’s lunches and meetings and poetry readings and great, more interviews.”

“Sir, it’s about learning to combine your roles as a Stark and Avenger in a more efficient manner.”

Tony grimaced. “Traitor,” he told the AI before seeing the photoshoot he had to get up far too early for. If he even went to bed for that matter. “Gotta pose for some photos and how I deplore sitting there for eternity. Then it’s off to the bar where my bartender friend wants to name another drink after me?”

“Would you like for me to call Y/N, sir?”

At this point, Tony had stopped listening to the AI. No, his mind was far too focused on this schedule. “Then it’s back to my room, where I resume my attempt to fix this shit.” At least she knew to give him time in the shop so he could work on the suits.

“Just you and your beer?”

Of course, JARVIS would have a witty retort for that. He always did. Sitting on the edge of his desk, he felt a cold wash over him as he admitted, “And the terrible fear that I might be losing it.” Staring at the bright hologram, the grim reminders, he shook his head and swiped it away. He could think about that later. I mean, it’s not that important.

—

Hiss…

The sound was what woke him from his uncomfortable slumber. He stretched, his spine and shoulders cracking from the effort before he realized he’d fallen asleep with an iron arm in his lap. No wonder his legs were tingly. A lack of blood flow did that. Shaking his head in a futile attempt to rouse himself further, his bleary eyes and yawn signaled that he wasn’t quite there yet. His gaze ran along the lab floor, making sure he hadn’t left a random weapon lying around and it was there his gaze found your little black heels on the floor, tapping patiently. Or was it impatiently? Eh, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he stood and set the arm on the counter, sending one of his infamous “Stark smiles” your way.

It was met with the most patient look he had ever seen.

You weren’t irritated?

Tony wholeheartedly meant that today’s events weren’t important. However, that was when we initially thought it. Seeing your face? Seeing the way your brow furrowed not in annoyance, but concern? Yeah, maybe he should’ve put a little more effort into going to sleep.

“Coffee?”

His gaze shifted to the steaming cup that was outstretched in your hand. He took it, mumbling a barely coherent ‘thanks’ before taking in your appearance. Pepper always wore skirts. You wore pants. She always wore blouses. You were what looked to be a simple tank top or t-shirt underneath a blazer. It reminded him of his look. Maybe Pep warned you that the skirts and fancy clothes wouldn’t survive around an Avenger?

“Did Jarvis let you down here?”

“Nope.”

Now he was confused. “Then how —“

“Ms. Potts thought it’d be beneficial to your habits if you had someone capable of hacking.”

“Wait,” Tony gaped, eyeing you with more interest than a curiosity now. “You-You're a —“ You smile and it knocks the wind out of him. Grumbling to himself, he takes a sip of coffee. Tony didn’t really like being bested. “I want to say I’m impressed, but also that means you hacked into advanced tech when you could have knocked.”

“Would you have opened the door?”

“She has a point, sir.”

Tony looked up at the ceiling, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t get an opinion.” He knew they were both right, but did that mean he had to admit it? Really? Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tony walked back to the bottle that had been carelessly left behind on the table. He poured some of it into his coffee before drinking most of the hot, bitter, and now strong liquid. “Seriously, you’re a hacker?”

“Just for fun.” You shrugged and he snickered. You reminded him of when he first got into tech and making new things. It was just for fun then. His gaze shifted to the lab and he knew that wasn’t the case anymore. Meanwhile, you had turned to the iPad tucked into your arm, scrolling through it. “So first on the agenda —“

“Nothing.” You looked up, the puzzled expression enough to make him feel satisfied. He missed being able to stoop an assistant, confuse them and leave them floundering. If that was how it was going to be, he was sure you wouldn’t last long.

Recovering from your confusion, you tucked your hair behind your ear and shook your head. “No, Mr. Stark, there won’t be any cancellations today. You need to get back into the world. Everyone wants to hear from —“

“I don’t care what everyone wants. I’m Tony fuckin’ Stark. When have I ever cared about what other people want?”

“When your mother asked you to say goodbye to her and your father for a holiday, but you didn’t.” There was a brief moment of silence as the matter-of-fact tone shifted to a much softer one and you added, “They passed away that weekend in a car accident.”

Tony froze, his back to you. He would’ve expected some assumption that he cared when he cut off weapons production for Stark Industries. He would’ve expected some ignorant comment that he cared when he took that nuke into space. Apparently, between the two of you, he had been the one to slip up. He’d been the one to assume. Trying to recover, a wry smile curved his lips as he asked, “Figure that out in your time hacking my software?”

“No, sir. Happy told me. After…After the incident with Ms. Potts, he felt that I needed a little preparation as to the job I was being hired for.”

Happy. Yeah, Tony would remember to talk with the man at a later time. Turning to face you, he downed the rest of his coffee before dropping it in the bin next to his desk. “You know, it’s hard. It’s really hard.”

Confusion. Again. “I don’t understand.”

He grinned and gestured to everything, a perfected swagger in his step as he told you, “I make it look easy, but honey, believe me. It’s hard.”

“Yes, I gathered that from the hangover and the crutch you’ve developed for alcohol in the morning.”

Ah, you had bit more bite than he expected. Looping an arm around your shoulder, he was surprised that you refused to tense under his touch. They did prepare you for the mess that was Tony Stark. Waving his hand, holograms of videos on youtube, news articles, and various photographs appeared to surround you two. You took it all in, more curious than confused now that you started piecing together what he was getting at. “It’s so incredibly hard, so inconceivably, unbelievably hard.”

He was whining, throwing a tantrum because he wanted his way. You both knew it, but he didn’t know the assistant he had. “It’s hard to be a Stark?” you asked, a hint of sympathy in your voice as you stepped out from under his touch. Your eyes studied everything. These weren’t just something randomly picked. He had these saved. He studied everything that was said about him and, judging by the negative articles, he believed more of the bad than the good.

“Honestly? I don’t know how I do it.” You looked at him, but he no longer studied you. Instead, he was staring at the images just above. His voice was soft as he admitted, “There’s only so much of me to go around.” Seeing him like this, open and vulnerable, you weren’t sure what to expect. Perhaps it was the booze that made him act like this? No, you’d seen the footage. Pepper was completely open about Tony’s faults and wanted you to be prepared. On booze, he was angry. He wasn’t vulnerable, but far from it. But as soon as you blinked, just once, just a brief moment, that vulnerability was gone. It was replaced by that Stark smile that graced all the tabloids and interviews. “I’ve got so many fans with so many demands.” He looked at you, smirking. “I can hardly go take a piss.”

“Can’t even pee? I can schedule a bathroom break if you’d like.”

Tony snorted. Alright, he knew he was going to like you. “Be it a hero-freak or another autograph seeker, they all want a piece of this.”

“It happens when one is in the spotlight as much as you are,” you told him honestly. Walking to the desk, you took a seat and looked over the schedule, deleting a couple of things here and there. He spun around, distracted and looking at everything. Tony was doing everything he could to look like he was okay, but just watching him showed you that he was fragile. Instead of a whole man, he’d had pieces of himself chipped away over the years and it seemed his kidnapping had taken out a huge piece. Now he was struggling to glue together what was left.

“It’s a cross that I bear,” he agreed. “I’m like Jesus, I swear!” You rolled your eyes and he pointed at you, reminding you that, “It’s a burden, but I suffer through it.”

“He is suffering,” came JARVIS’s voice, a somehow mocking tone preprogrammed into the AI.

It made you laugh, but the sound died on your lips when Tony sat on the edge of the desk, his leg bumping your knee. “It’s all part of the game, the trappings of fame, but somebody’s gotta do it.” You looked up from your schedule, tucking it into your chest as you eyed him cautiously. He seemed to be tipping on an edge of sorts. Wasn’t this the sort of thing someone discussed with a therapist? Not their newest assistant? “And I know,” he mumbled, shifting his gaze from the floor to you. He leaned forward, nodding to himself as if he were trying to convince his brain. “I know I gotta go and get back to the fans and fame.”

“Yeah, you do.”

He rubbed his temples, huffing as he pleaded, “Don’t make me do it. Don’t make me go through it.”

“Mr. Stark —“

“Oh, I need to get me a drink.” He rose, moving faster than you could have anticipated. Colliding with the chair, he sent you rolling a few feet as he grabbed the bottle he’d been nursing. Taking a few good swigs of the burning liquid, he exhaled slowly. “It’s hard.”

“You’ve said that a few times, Mr. Stark.”

“Well, it’s true!” His shout made you jump though he didn’t seem to notice. No, he was long gone in his drunken stupor. Part of you was starting to wonder if he was even sober when he first woke. Sitting on the floor, he stretched his legs out and rest his head against the desk. He looked spent. “I know being a Stark made me famous,” he whispered. “But being famous is just so not fun.” Waving his hand again, the images of Ironman vanished. Instead, it was replaced by trashy tabloids and photos of himself and news articles with various women, at random parties, creating an image that he’d forced himself to maintain. The hologram divided you two, creating a wall it felt you had to break through if you had any hope of surviving this job. Picking up the bottle, he pointed to one of the older photos before taking another swig. “What people just don’t understand is that fame is demanding. It’s mentally challenging and it’s a bore, jeez, it’s such a chore.”

“To sit in a room full of people?”

To prove yourself to a room full of people

He shifted his gaze, meeting your eyes. There was a fog over the welcoming brown of his irises. Tony was drunk. Truthfully, he admitted, “I hate it.” He exhaled, his shoulders slumping. Would he continue? You weren’t sure.

“You know, you’re trying to find some short line or an innovative idea and you’re pacing the floor and hoping for…Hell, maybe just a bit of divine intervention?”

“Is that what happened with the suit?” You were curious, your tech-savvy brain aching to understand how he created something so brilliant. You were a hacker, sure, but that was nothing like being an inventor.

Upon mentioning the suit, he offered the faintest of smiles. It seemed it might be one of the better topics for him to discuss. “That was the one little nugget. That one little spark. I was ready to die and then eureka, I found it and I was ready to start.”

Silence fell between you two and you allowed yourself to smile, to feel at ease. If he remembered this, it might help him adjust to working with you. There’d be a level of trust. If not, then you could work with the information you’ve learned and slowly gain some level of traction with him. Everything took time and patience and the man sitting across from you was no different.

Not even close.

“It’s hard,” you finally agreed, earning his concentration once more.

“Wouldn’t it be hard to do something as good as the last thing you did?”

“It was already great.”

Tony shook his head and you felt like you took two steps back. He didn’t see it that way. He didn’t see himself or any of his accomplishments that way. “It’s totally hard. I’ve got fortune and fame. Everyone knows my name.”

“Can’t help it.”

“But it’s still freakin’ hard.”

You watched him carefully. He was so fragile at the moment, unlike you’d ever seen. You never would have thought of an Avenger as frail. That was your mistake. That was everyone’s mistake. The world had come to put these guys on pedestals with no concern for the fact that they were still human and broken. They all had scars and emotions to process so that they could form some semblance of a less than shattered individual. It hurt having to see it first hand, but you knew that if you hadn’t, you’d never believe it.

“You’ve taught me a lot, Mr. Stark,” you whispered, looking down at the tablet and clearing the schedule. There was always tomorrow, but today… You looked back at him. Today wasn’t the day. “I’ve cleared your schedule and will leave you to the rest of your day.” The surprise on his face made you smile. You had been a couple of steps ahead of the genius. “On two conditions.”

“Name them.”

“One, no more alcohol. Spend the day tinkering on something.” You shrugged as you stood up, waving one hand through the air to clear away the mess of history between you two. “Maybe create something new or go for a drive — something you want to do. And two, get some sleep tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow morning and we’ll try again.”

His eyes studied you as if trying to find the sneaky detail you were hiding from him. All his friends did that. Instead of being upfront, they hid a detail that would later be used to help him in some sort of way. That wasn’t the case with you. No, you were nothing but honest. No secrets. No ploys. “No alcohol and get some sleep.” Tony chuckled, holding up the bottle to you before dropping it in the bin to his right. “You got a deal.”

Progress. That was what you felt when you saw him willingly take you up on your offer. There was hope for a structured, professional relationship. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark.”

Turning on your heel, you made your way to the door to give the man some peace and quiet.

“Tony.”

You paused, looking at him over your shoulder. “Sir?”

“Call me Tony.”

All you could do was nod before you left, closing the door behind you. Looking down at the schedule, you clicked on the title and slowly backspaced on the name “Mr. Stark”, replacing it with “Tony”. Well, surely it’d be a mostly professional relationship.

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howtolistentomusic · 4 years

Photo

Dear people that think the Goodwill wants to sell your Ziploc baggie of used crayons: it doesn’t. That shit goes directly into the trash, right on top of your broken furniture. Surely you mean well when you donate, say, an old dresser with a busted leg. But good intentions can’t magically transform a ragtag crew of temp agency employees into proper handymen.

If, however, you need an informed opinion on one of those homemade mixtapes that sometimes find their way into the warehouse, I might be your man.

Once upon a time I managed to con my way into the world of online music writing. As one might expect from a blogger haughty & naive enough to write under the banner How to Listen to Music, many of my insights have aged terribly. But I was constantly learning from the best critics, journalists and bloggers in the field and HtLtM was gaining steam before my fragile discipline collapsed under the weight of increasing visibility. I still believe deeply in the merits of the template I created to analyze songs on Youtube, which was unlike anything on the internet before or since. Maura Johnston seemed to like it, at least.

And yet I failed miserably at turning these creative endeavors into a sustainable career. So here I am, handling donations at my local Goodwill warehouse for minimum wage. Today old man Kenneth and I are inside the container, which is the detachable part of a freight truck the drivers dump on the dock for the roll-off team to unload. We’re placing the donations on the open edge for the guys outside to grab and toss into gaylords. Yes, the thick cardboard boxes with an open top we place on pallets to store donations in are called gaylords. And yes, my coworkers think this is hilarious. Death, taxes, and “they’re calling you!” from one roll-off laborer to another every time the term is overheard.

***

“You dropped this,” Kenneth says as he hands me a crate of CDs.

“If there’s no Justin Bieber, it’s not mine.” I say.

“You better cut that shit out!” David says.

“He’s joking,” Donald tells David.

I laugh.

“I know you!” Donald says.

“Dude, I’m a poptimist.”

“A what?“

Let’s start by pointing out that it’s a hell of a lot easier to be an "authentic” artist, as a certain orthodoxy of criticism dictates one should be, when your very existence isn’t under constant attack. You’re in luck, straight white dudes! Again. What a coincidence.

Poptimism basically says nay! to all the noise. The Beatles go to Jupiter to get more stupider. Gaga goes to Mars to get more candy bars. Or college, I suppose, if your childhood sucked.

“It means I listen to pop.” Among many other genres, to be very clear. “Top 40. All the stuff you guys probably hate.”

“Bullshit!” Donald says.

I don’t know who he thinks I am but it’s clearly someone much, much cooler.

“I thought you were smart!” David says.

“Am I no longer smart if I listen to Justin Bieber?”

“Nope!” says Kenneth.

“Oh shut up!” I say to the grizzled geezer. “Go jack off to Creedence.”

“I’d rather get gang banged by CCR than listen to that little homo.”

You heard it here first. Listening to Justin Bieber: gayer than being gay!

“Really? Justin Bieber?” David says. “Wow. You think you know a guy.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Marvin Gaye! Stevie Wonder! James Brown!”

What’s Going On. Songs in the Key of Life. Think. These are all stone cold classics. I have a healthy respect for these artists but they aren’t in my regular rotation.

“Those guys are before my time. If we move up a few decades, I’m totally there. New Edition, Boyz II Men, Soul 4 Real …”

“Now we’re talking!”

“Bieber’s better though.”

David throws up his arms in wild exasperation, as if his favorite sports team just botched an important play. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m trolling him.

To be clear, I do indeed listen to Justin Bieber’s music. “Baby” is catchy as hell, and the song’s DNA can be heard in other notable pop releases from the era such as Katy Perry’s blockbuster Teenage Dream and internet darling Carly Rae Jepsen’s Kiss. I also like “Never Say Never” if only for hearing Jaden Smith say “No pun intended / was raised by the power of WIll.” And for an album created by a former child star falling apart at the seams, Purpose has no business being as good as it is. Stand-out track “Love Yourself” contains the immortal roast “My momma don’t like you and she likes everyone.” And with its heavy utilization of short, staccato notes and sudden, dramatic rests, the song is my favorite example of a distinct style of guitar playing favored by many male musicians. Such “cool pauses” give these songs a slightly broken, incomplete feel that mirrors the artist’s self-assured “deal with it” tone and I love it.

Even Carlos, my arch enemy, likes “Love Yourself”. A while back we were inside the warehouse creating pallets of our best furniture to be sent to proper Goodwill retail locations. Supervisor Anna miraculously felt like hearing some contemporary hits that day and had the building’s three radios tuned to Live 105.5, our local top 40 station. “Love Yourself” played.

“This is Bieber’s only good song,” Carlos told me. He tried to sing along but quickly lost the words. “Sing it!” he said. “I know you know it!”

I wasn’t sure if I should be offended by being stereotyped or impressed by his accuracy. Nonetheless, it was true! I did know the words! I picked up where he left off.

”‘Cause if you like the way you look that much / Oh baby you should go and love yourself / And if you think that I’m still holdin’ on to somethin’ / You should go and love yourself.“

It wasn’t a particularly strong vocal performance but Carlos, somehow, was awed.

“Daaaaaaamn!” he cooed. It was perhaps the only time I ever impressed him.

Carlos, in case it wasn’t clear, is an asshole. He’s the type of open misogynist that progressives, in our insulated internet bubbles, are shocked to realize still exist. My masculinity isn’t up to par with his standards and he likes to torture me because of it.

Carlos is off today but there’s a small part of me that wishes he was here. He’d have no trouble buying the fact that I listen to Justin Bieber. At the same time, I know I need to be careful. After all, Bieber is far from my favorite musician. But I can’t help it. Playing Bieleber is such a fun and easy way to rile up my coworkers.

“You need a lesson in quality, my boy!” David says.

“I’m all ears!” I say, but he just shrugs.

If I wanted to be really mean, I could point out that David just might be the true Bieleber in roll-off. See, David the Bieber-hating quality expert is the same David that sometimes drops me off at the bus station after our shift ends. More than once on these trips, a Justin Bieber song played on the radio. Did he change the station? Nope!

David seems to be harboring a lot of hate for a musician whose songs he doesn’t even recognize. This doesn’t surprise me, of course, because Bieber hate is barely about Justin Bieber.

Leonardo DiCaprio. Robert Pattinson. Zac Efron. Boy bands. The Biebs. Celebrities like these are cut from the same cloth in that they’re overwhelmingly attractive in a way that draws ravenous, predominantly female fanbases. In turn, this provokes intense contempt and ridicule from traditional dudes everywhere. This is bullshit. It’s retaliation against open female desire that, in an affront to their entitlement, isn’t directed towards Man McAverage.

Evoking “quality” is no exemption from these kinds of considerations. Many people treat the word as if it’s an objective and universal set of standards everyone intuitively understands but this is nonsense. Quality is more like a self-shaped hole we attempt to carve into the world, both encompassing and reproducing our ideals, desires, prejudices, etc. It sure as hell doesn’t explain itself.

I’ve been immersed in the world of music writing for a long time. My favorite publications tend to be ones that upend the very idea of quality. The Singles Jukebox gathers a variety of writers to weigh in and score the same song, and reading wildly different takes on what makes art good or bad is enlightening. One Week // One Band achieves something similar by inviting a different writer (sometimes a professional, sometimes not so much) to take over the blog for a seven-day deep dive into a musician they love, with “no rules and no canon” dictating who that musician can be. And then there was Hipster Runoff, the defunct but brilliant meta exploration of taste and identity that often delved into the ingredients of quality that we don’t like to talk about.

I think I ‘like’ them because they are differentiated from 'traditional music’ and 'modern indie music.’ When I listen to them, I exist on a higher plane of musical appreciation and consume products for 'all the right reasons.’

- Carles, the voice of Hipster Runoff, on Animal Collective

Quality shouldn’t be a Get Out of Bullying Your Co-Worker Free card. But after a lifetime of living with what is often considered bad taste, I’ve learned to be on the offensive just in case.

Try harder, fuckers.

#minwagepop

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alleiradayne · 5 years

Text

An Update

It’s been a millennia since I wrote anything. I know I don’t owe anyone any writing (technically, I do, but that’s a different story, no pun intended). But I wanted to keep my followers in the know.

I have been up to my eyeballs in the dumbest fucking shit lately and I’m not even talking about COVID-19. My work sucks. The only good thing about it is that my team, the immediate people I work with on the regular, are awesome. But I need to get out soon. The actual work itself is fucking soul-sucking and I hate it. I get very little downtime, which is a major contributor to why I haven’t written much lately. Not because I don’t have the free time at work like I used to, but because I don’t have the mental, emotional, creative, or physical energy to commit to writing when I get home.

My daughter is 16 months old. That’s all I need to say about her (she’s wonderful, but a handful).

I’ve been reading way more lately in an effort to relieve stress.

God damn Minecraft.

I had sinus surgery in December and while the recovery was short, the surgery did not achieve the intended results. I still have major allergy symptoms without being allergic to anything. I was sick with sinus infections for the better part of two months and was only finally feeling sort of back to normal before right before I went to Vegas. Now I’m dealing with severe seasonal allergies after the snow melted here.

But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. What has really irritated me lately is this pile of bullshit:

Google as the monolith it is shouldn’t fucking exist. It’s too convenient to get embedded in all their services such that, when one of them breaks, you’re cut off from all of their services. This story is long and convoluted. I’ll do my best to keep it succinct (I’ve already failed, I know).

Back in January, my primary Google account was compromised. After piecing together the crazy puzzle of what happened, I determined that someone obtained my Google account password, logged into the Google Store with it, and made two fraudulent purchases using two different payment methods (PayPal and my credit card, both of which were saved to my Google Pay profile under this primary email account) equaling a very large sum of money (like $4k).

My credit card company, bless their corrupt little souls, texted me immediately about the VERY expensive charge for the second order and I freaked out. I didn’t get any emails confirming these orders because the fuckers that hacked my Google account (I suspect Google had a data breach because they skipped all two-factor authentication I had enabled and I never received any notification of my account being accessed like I normally do) put a filter on my Gmail inbox to mark all Google Store emails as Opened (or Read) and to immediately toss them into the trash. Do Not Pass Go. Do Not Collect $200.

I immediately resolved these fraudulent charges with disputes. They never even hit my credit card (which was canceled and I was issued a new one) or my bank account (PayPal). Google, however, sucks at this shit. The first purchase was made at 4:30 AM. I never saw it until later that night. Once an hour has passed after a purchase has been made from Google’s store, they cannot cancel it. How fucking ridiculous is that?

So Google Support said to just refuse the FedEx packages. I rerouted them to a FedEx drop location because I didn’t want anyone to steal them off my front step (because that’s what I suspected the scam was all along, why else have them delivered them to my fucking house?) The first package arrived, I went to the drop location which was a Walgreen's, and I told the cashier that I needed to refuse the package and have FedEx return it to the sender. I said this several times to the person helping me. But then she had me sign the FedEx scanner and when I went to leave, she pushed the box to me and said, “You don’t want it?”

It gets worse.

While I felt dumb for signing for the package, when the second package came in the next day, I also signed their scanner but it was to actually refuse the package. I don’t know why that’s how it worked, but it did.

Package 1: Accepted. Package 2: Refused.

This is important.

During this time, my Google Pay profile under my primary Google account was placed on a temporary freeze. But on February 10th, once everything had been returned (FedEx managed to get the first package returned, I have the tracking numbers, it made it), my Pay profile had been reactivated.

Which was really great because my Play Music and HBO subscriptions had lapsed. So I immediately renewed them.

Problem solved, right?

Wrong.

I tried buying a movie before I flew to Vegas and got a very similar error that I’d seen previously when my account had originally been frozen at the end of January due to the fraudulent charges.

Through several Support chats and getting the run around, I come to find that my Pay profile has been permanently closed because I violated the Google Pay Terms of Service. And that Google’s policy is to not discuss the details of the issue with anyone. And I cannot close that Pay profile and create a new one under that same Google account because it’ll just get flagged and closed again.

While pissed, I resolved to fix it after Vegas because I didn’t have the capacity to handle it while prepping for that trip.

I get back and the problem still exists. A part of me hoped it would just go away. So over the last week I went back and forth with Google Pay support on what the fuck is going on with my pay account. Several times they repeated the same thing to me: account is closed due to violation of ToS, can’t discuss it with you per our policy. Great.

During that time, I noticed that I had like, $200 worth of Google Store credit on my account because of the packages I had unintentionally accepted (I had previously signed up for Google One so I could offload some storage to their cloud, and as a part of that Google One sub, they offer a percent of Google Store purchases as Google Store credit). So I wanted to see if I could actually use it. I kinda figured they’d take the $200 back seeing as that the charge never processed. When I tried to buy something, I finally got an error that said my Pay profile had been closed for violating the ToS.

The Narrator: Can you put that in a folder and label it “Shit I Already Know”?

I filed a complaint with the Attorney General of Minnesota because Google was not allowing me to do anything to resolve the issue. Every email response I sent was met with a similar response of “we’ve reviewed your account and we’ve determined it must remain closed”. I went Full Karen™ on Google Pay support and threatened them with legal action if they did not tell me what the fuck I did to violate their ToS. That was last Thursday.

After a few more emails over the weekend (only like, two), I suddenly received a response at 6am today stating that my Google Pay profile had been reactivated.

I resubscribed to HBO and Play Music without issue. (I did, however, create another mess with Google Family sharing, but that’s a different story, although very much related to and caused by this one, and I won’t get into it here).

When I checked my Pay profile, the $200 in Google Store credit had been removed. I think they finally checked the tracking numbers on those two orders that I sent back and realized I had actually sent them back instead of defrauding them by making a purchasing, rejecting the charge, keeping the package, and pocketing the $200 in-store credit like they probably assumed.

I also think Google might have a big data breach mess on their hands right now. Change your passwords regularly folks!

TLDR: I’m tired. :)

#personal #ranting

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silverinia · 5 years

Note

For that fic ask thingy... tell us about Lillies 😊😘

Hahaha, what all 15 questions? Okay, let’s do this 🙅🏻‍♀️

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

It must have been during one of my TGW rewatch sessions that I realized that after ep 1x13 they never mentioned Spellman and Diane being threatened by him again (I guess they were still experimenting with the characters and this storyline only served to show a more vulnerable side of her and to introduce us to her conflict of being pro gun control but still enjoying to carry at the same time). And the idea for the fic just popped into my head and wouldn’t let me go again, so yeah, here we are 😄

The most important thing to me was to do it in a respectful and realistic way, I never wanted to write about the topic of sexual assault for the assault itself, rather wanted to show those characters trying to wrap their lives and their relationship around it and moving on together, if that makes sense. That’s also why the bigger part of the fic takes place after the incident.

2: What scene did you first put down?

Well… I did start with the first chapter and took it from there, I find that this is the easiest way for me to write because I can build up the suspense more easily when I do it like this. The first scene that I pictured in my head before I even began the outline though was their fight in Chapter 11, that was the scene that wouldn’t let me go and eventually made me write it all.

3: What’s your favourite line of narration?

Hmm, I think it’s a tie between “Skin against skin, their embrace was the peak of intimacy in the purest and most innocent way.” in Chapter 38 and “And all those realizations, all those great things about this wonderful man who was standing there, waiting for her, waiting to agree to spend the rest of his life with her and the huge declaration of love he had just wordlessly told her with the way he was looking at her and the fact that she was finally able to hold that gaze, they shot hot tears into her eyes.” from the wedding chapter. That first one really reflected the deep level of trust between them, even though she wasn’t ready to sleep with him again, and I liked the contradiction in the term peak of intimacy. And the latter, I don’t know. It summed up their journey in this story, how he helped her overcome those insecurities, how he gained her trust over the course of this and, tbh, I also just really liked the image of her, walking down the aisle to him…

4: What’s your favourite line of dialogue?

Okay, there are certain parts of dialogue that I liked, but for stand-alone lines it would either be “You’re not a victim, Diane. You are a survivor.” (Chapter 28) or “Diane, you never needed anyone to save you. […] But I’m glad you let me help you save yourself. Because I love you.” (46, proposal chapter) (side note: this line was one I wrote towards on from a very early chapter. I thought about making it the last line for quite a while, thought about putting it in his vows but then settled on this), both said by Kurt because I needed him to believe in her strength at a time in which she couldn’t do that for herself. I like the empowerment of her independence in those lines. They really sum up how I wished to portray a woman who was forced to go through something like this. Like a survivor instead of a victim and as someone who didn’t need a knight in shining armour to save her from the pain. That was really important to me.

5: What part was the hardest to write?

God, so many 😂 The nightmares and their aftermath were very, VERY difficult though. Most of Kurt’s and Will’s dialogue with Diane in the greater part of this were incredibly difficult because I remember just sitting in front of the screen and thinking, What the hell are they supposed to say? I realized how intuitively you fall into the clichées of ‘How are you?’s or ‘If there’s anything I can do…’s and that sucks. Because it’s obvious that they’re not good. And it’s obvious that someone like Diane would never reach out for help if they don’t just give it to her without another word of questioning, as they end up doing. So, yeah. That was hard. But I wanted to do it right, so I guess it was at least worth it 😅 at least I hope so.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

One, that it was my first. I had almost 40 chapters of it written when I began to post it because this was all new territory for me, fanfiction, this particular fandom and their response to new writers, general perception of a difficult topic like rape… And then, of course, my own response to writing about it. I mean, as a writer, you really don’t just need to dive into those characters’ heads but also into your own to put at least a few emotions into it. I didn’t know if this was going to bring me down really bad, if I would cry during the process (fun fact: I did. Three times, I think) and if I could even go through with it and finish it at all. I also went through a lot of major life changes when I started to write this and I think that not only my writing changed a lot over the cause of it, but I as a person did, too. It’s very close to my heart. I associate certain chapters with the states that I was in when I wrote or edited them and that makes it pretty special 💕

7: Where did the title come from?

Okay, I really don’t know how to answer that. I’m really, really bad at coming up with titles. Actually, I think that this didn’t have a real title up until I started posting it because then I had to name it somehow. I’d referenced both the infamous white calla lilies and the smell of gunpowder a lot already at that point and I kinda just thought that they were sweet symbols for the two of them 🤷🏻‍♀️ I played around with several different titles and when this came out of nowhere, it felt right. It made sense because it was like a theme, threading through the story, and it sounded melodic and I honestly was just glad that I didn’t have to name it something too long and too ridiculous, like I did now with most of my other fics 😶

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of this?

Difficult question. I think that (sadly), most women have had to deal with sexual assault at some point in their lives. I saw my friends and family reacting to my stories in similar ways Kurt does in the fic.

On a lighter note, a guy I really loved inspired lots of the happier parts in it. And my best friend, my own, female Will Gardner, she’s in a lot of it, too 💕

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Only in my head. Regarding whether or not I would have Kurt shooting Spellman, if I would kill Spellman off at all, if they should get married in the end, if I would write about Diane handling a rape case when she’s better (found the middle ground on that one in the epilogue, but this could have been an entire storyline) and so on. But the version I uploaded is the only one I wrote, though I did consider writing a sequel for it until I decided that the two of them had suffered enough in this alternate universe, so I created a new one around my idea and Everything’s gonna be alright was born.

10: Why did you choose this paring for this particular story?

Okay, first of all, I’d say that I chose this story for the pairing and not the other way around, and yes, I think there’s a huge difference in that.

I wanted to unravel them. They’re such amazingly complex characters, both incredibly proud and I really wanted to make them vulnerable (as I’m typing this, I’m very aware of that this makes me sound like a freaking psychopath). And the no. 1 thing, apart from politics, that always drove Kurt and Diane to each other was the (sexual) attraction between them. And while it is of course another layer of the depth of their relationship, another level of their bond, I wanted to explore the characters in a state where that bond was no easy way out. Two people that tend to choose physical attraction over having to deal with their emotions, who choose make-up sex over talking through their problems (sans season 3 of TGF because they’re perfect now), I wanted to explore what would happen if they couldn’t do that anymore, put them in a situation in which they had to confront major issues in another, healthier way.

11: What do you like best about this fic?

Oh God.

I tried to make it emotionally deep and respectful regarding the heavy topic. I tried not to rob Diane of her independence, rather wanted her to find additional strength in Kurt instead of completely making her depend on him. I wanted her to work this out in realistic timing and I didn’t want to rush their way back to physical intimacy. I wanted him to react to her pain and her ways around it, find his own mechanisms to deal with those and to the pace she set with it in the right way. And I don’t know if I did all that, but I’d like to hope so.

And I really like Chapter 38, because I think it underlined a lot of that.

And I ended up really liking the title of the fic.

12: What do you like least about this fic?

Hah, definitely the first few chapters. I mean, the characterisation was alright I guess, but my writing was just awful. Like, I never love my writing but sometimes it’s exceptionally bad, as it was in those first few chapters. Sometimes I scroll through them and want to rewrite it all, but it’s part of the journey and that’s why I don’t do it.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

I always listen to music when I write and the first thing that comes to mind here is Debussy’s Clair de Lune. And not just Clair de Lune, no, I mean the YouTube extended version that keeps on going for an hour. Over and over again. That’s why I referenced it in the proposal chapter, it really deserved to be mentioned at that point.

I also listened a lot to Lana del Rey and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds during Chapters, I dunno, ten to thirty, I guess, for the angsty mood (honourable mentions: Tomorrow never came, Young and Beautiful, Art Deco and Blue Jeans; Into my Arms, Henry Lee and Where the Wild Roses Grow (ironic, I know)) and the song Firefighter by Cigarettes after Sex.

And for the happier Chapters after that lots of Cigarettes after Sex and Beach House (literally cannot put what their music does to me into words. It’s art, almost magical, really) (honourable mentions: Apocalypse (please do yourselves a favour and listen to this song), Sweet and Sunsetz; Myth, Space Song and On the Sea (over and over again during the epilogue)), Florence and The Machine AND Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Lots of great music.

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from this fic?

Huh. Well, it might sound bitchy or self-absorbed, but I mostly just write what I want to write. I want to study characters that I love and I want to write in a way that might hopefully touch people on any level, whether it’s humour or angst, I kinda just like the idea of writing words that make people feel things.

But if anyone’s learned something regarding the subject and their views about it, I’m more than happy and thrilled about that, though I wouldn’t put the praise for that on myself but rather on the ones who learned, you know? ‘Cause it’s one thing to write, it’s another thing to learn from reading. That requires more effort on the readers part IMO. I just can’t say that it was my intention to write something that holds major life lessons or revelations, I really just wanted to write and reach people emotionally by doing that and to maybe give them something they would enjoy by doing something that I enjoy.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

That love doesn’t solve all issues solely by itself and that it’s only enough if every involved party works to let love stay a beautiful thing instead of letting it grow to become something painful.

I learned a lot about sexual assault and how it’s handled in the social system when I did my research.

I already knew that if bad things happen to you, they still don’t need to define you if you don’t let them, but I learned that it’s not a bad thing if they shape you in some ways.

And I learned how much I missed writing until I did it again for this fic. And I learned that, oddly, my writing is able to touch some people. And even though I don’t want other people’s feedback to be my motivation when I write, I learned how wonderful it is to have strangers reaching out to you when they take joy from something you love to do.

—–

This is long, but yeah. Thanks for the questions, honey, this was very nice ❤ I feel all warm inside now, ew, feelings, ugh.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ask #can i tag mchart?#i'll just do it #mchart #thanks for the ask!#i loved this #lilies and gunpowder

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robynsheart · 5 years

Text

2019, thank you but definitely next.

2019 has definitely been really weird. I think what's even more weird about it is how, just a second ago it was January and now we're bidding goodbye to it. It feels like it was an absolute blur and as much as I'd like to claim that I was fully present and really living my best life, I did most things just so I can say iv done them. It was fun, I won't lie but I sometimes wonder if the intent was ever really pure. Nonetheless I needed this year for healing, I never thought I would be able to get back on my feet, I'm not fully back but just regaining something within myself that I feel I had lost. Something as simple as humor and just the lightweight feeling of not taking life too seriously - I could also credit that to wine😂 but you get what I'm saying.

Another weird thing about 2019 was how I couldn't hide my own vulnerability to myself. As someone who is really open and about self awareness, I am really not about vulnerability. I would often look at how vulnerable my mother is with me with judgment, to some extent it reflected how I think people respond when you are vulnerable. I am afraid of becoming to vulnerable with people because of judgment obviously, but this year my entire self started a process without my permission to ACT OUT when I try to hide how I feel. Every negative feeling that has gone unnoticed or even ignored has manifested itself in ways I couldn't even imagine and iv experienced so much hate and anger that iv never experienced in my entire existence. I don't know how to fully process the negative things which are bound to happen in life yet, I think in the past my way of dealing with anything was pretending it wasn't there so now I have to actually face the music and deal with things. I do it at a very premature level, but I hope this is something I can work on as the years go - building up a good ass communication with some vulnerability. The messed up part is the idea of also not being vulnerable with myself, it's honestly shooting myself in the foot. I can't figure out how I feel like I am also an enemy and hence can't become vulnerable with myself - I have endured so much judgment and hate from myself without realizing it and it's crazy that spirit and soul that hosts all my experiences s till won't feel safe even in its own home.

I have discredited whatever it is that I have needed to say or which ever move that I needed to make with just a "uh nope that's not your lane". I think it's very important to have moments of vulnerability with yourself so that you can share it with other people, so when a vulnerable moment has to happen with someone else it doesn't feel so foreign in your spirit.

My spirit this year has felt exhausted more and more with each day. I keep thinking it reminds me of the time when I was in Highschool and I was literally in the passenger seat of my own life. Highschool was weird because I didn't know what the fuck I was doing and I kept going and going. It created a monotonous vibe in my life and I was in a space where I was just getting by and always promising myself better but never showing up for myself. There's a vivid memory of me sitting in church during a sermon and having the thought that I'd start reading the Bible more from the coming week, did I ever? NO! I find myself literally in the same damn cycle. I used to read a lot and I just outgrew the habit but I find myself wanting to go back to reading, I set myself up for such a fail because I know I won't be in that mood but I keep selling myself dreams about becoming that person. I am always tired and never really want to honour some of the stuff I say I will do because I just don't hold myself accountable. I genuinely hate being in the passenger seat of my own life when I know there is something I can do but won't do because I am demotivated and lazy,it's a sad space to be in.

There has been good too about this year, I'm just not sure I am in a position to recognize it because it's not the form that I would have it you know? The silent blessings that we don't recognize because we are overlooking them to see if your cup is being filled with the same shit as your neighbor or friend. I think when everything has felt like the biggest exhaustion it becomes hard to recognize something which is a blessing, I remember telling my friend that it's weird how I alway think that I will only start living or become happy once iv reached certain milestones in my life and at that time, relationships (romantic) was number one on the list. I don't remember what the second was but there we're two specific things which I felt that if I had to have, I then would become happy or have everything that I have ever wanted in life, which my dear is so fucked up. If anything after that statement, and getting into a relationship shortly thereafter I need to realize how miserable I was trying to carry another human being who didn't need to be carried. We sacrifice SOMUCH just to have what other people, because it looks glamorous but it isn't always. The relationship I entered into after that statement was one of the Worst I had ever been in, listen if you need to go the movies take your friends. Develop friendships, develop actual relationships with people so you know people and people know you. The shit that's going on right now regarding relationship is genuinely the GHETTO and no one can convince me otherwise. We're literally trying to piece together items with weird stuff, there seems to be no genuine care for the other person or even respect. Another thing is that people don't really know each other and people don't really like each other that much. It's all based on some superficial aspect and honestly for me it cannot be physical because (1) Cute niggas are never attract to me (2) I am never attracted to cute niggas lol. Whoever I date, I date based on personality, but that still isn't enough. There are some very fake bonds that we have with people out here that are very dangerous.

I know from my side that Iv tried to make homes of human beings, and in the year where I have struggled so much with adapting to loosing friends and having people leave my life (growing up). I have tried to make a placemat with other human beings just trying to fill up this empty space which once was friendships and sisterhood. The most painful honestly, you know when you fight with someone and you loose them, it almost justifies how you feel and where you can direct your anger towards but when someone outgrows you or moves on to a totally different path, it's a bit weird. You don't know how to fathom that type of loss, because that person is still there and probably loves you as much but has just moved on. It's the biggest mindfuck, and I found myself saying to myself way too many times that you cannot posses people, you can only experience them and that's what happens. I have been struggling to find a positive way of moving on, I almost feel as though my body knows war only and recognizes war only and therefore even in situations where there isnt war, I don't know how to love and bless that person without feeling sometype of betrayal. Realizing that person still wishes you great in life but not knowing how to receive because they have decided to leave you (in your head). It's like I only know how to comprehend love if it is a certain way and if it's not in that way then it feels like rejection. My thing now has been wanting to get over that person as if they have hurt me, and I think we owe people that sense of freedom and liberation. We cannot hold on to people like that, I am trying to find a way to understand what has happened without being angry, without judgment and obsession by just letting that person go (if that's what meant to happen).

I don't know if the walls I have built have made it difficult for me to love other people without reservation. I think about how difficult it has become for me to full celebrate people that are in my life without feeling like my own shine is being restraint. I often think about how my self love/hate shows up immensely in very narcissistic ways and then quickly inferior. It's so crazy how this cycle works, it's obviously an ego thing but wow. I genuinely either love myself in a narcissistic way or I am hating myself to wards inferiority. There's no in-between and there's no healthy love, hence sometimes there isn't even a healthy love for others. It's always about me, not too sure why but to some extent the idea of my own insecurity and an unsettling image of self is what pushes through. I don't get the idea of becoming jealous and hateful of friends because they have something you don't have or even the idea that someone is prettier or gets more attention that you do. These are things which happen in life, actual things and I sometimes feel like it takes away from the bigger picture because we are so self absorbed. It's focusing on the small nitty-grittys that have nothing to do with anything. I almost feel like as person you don't have anything going on for you in your life or something to focus on that becomes your only win, which is the really ridiculous but very valid. Focusing on so much more of your wins puts you in a better place I guess to recognize other people's wins. In a perfect world we're all winning but in reality we all win at different points in our lives and really have to acknowledge when someone else wins.

It's not always easy to praise someone else's win, especially when you can't recognize your own or even praise your small wins. The idea of not being able to praise some of my friends wins has made me feel like a terrible person but I have to understand that I am battling an inner ego, this one girl said that you need to love yourself enough to want see yourself win or something like that and I think my shadow believes still believe in playing small and hence there's this huge constraint towards me being the highest version of myself. But this isn't the person I want to be for the rest of my life. I don't want to be hateful and salty about seeing people achieve things that they have worked hard for, that's not a healthy space to be. I don't know if as human beings we could ever be fully happy for each other but I want to try and attain that space, believing that maybe my portion is waiting for me :)

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monsterproblems · 5 years

Text

Genre: Sci-Fi’ish Comedy

Premise: In a future where the world has been overrun by monsters, a young man risks his life to get to the woman he’s fallen for.

About: Brian Duffield is one of my favorite writers. One of his scripts, Your Bridesmaid is a Bitch, is on my Top 25. And through no fault of his own, another of his projects, Jane Got A Gun, found itself in the middle of a production circus when on the first day of shooting the director of the film just decided not to show up. This resulted in actors dropping out, other actors switching roles, and a full-on game of production musical chairs. Monster Problems was picked up last year. It’s unclear where it is in development. I’ll tell you this right now, though. If I were a studio, this is one of the first scripts I’d green light.

Writer: Brian Duffield

Details: 113 pages (undated)

Okay, so I want you to imagine Sleepless in Seattle. Mixed with a John Hughes film. Mixed with Harry Potter. Mixed with Pacific Rim.

You may be saying, “Carson, that is an unbelievable combination of films. There is nobody in the world who could make that work.”

Ladies and Gentleman, may I introduce you to Brian Duffield. The only person in the world who can make that work. And honestly, I’m in awe of the guy. I really am. I don’t know anyone else on earth who has this kind of imagination, that is also good with character, who can also create a believable and touching romance, who can also add hilarious comedy and lots of heart, whose writing style is sparse yet packed with information, who can ALSO tell a great story, and who always surprises you with his choices.

You just don’t find that kind of writer often. If ever. And it kind of depresses me. Because we’re all supposed to have weaknesses. Those weaknesses are what make other writers feel like they shouldn’t commit suicide. It’s important for them to be able to say, “Okay, sure he can do comedy. But he can’t develop characters like I can.” Duffield can do it all. I guess maybe in Jane Got A Gun, things were a little slow. Maybe when he’s not able to use comedy, his scripts aren’t as entertaining? Maybe that’s a weakness? I guess. Or maybe he purposefully slowed things down in “Jane” because he didn’t want to make all us other writers feel bad.

So what’s Monster Problems about?

This guy, Joel Dawson. A really good guy, this Joel. But he’s been dealt a shitty hand. He lives in this underground bunker with 37 people and he’s the only single guy there. Everyone else is always making out and having sex while he’s just… dreaming of what it would be like to have a girlfriend. Oh, and then, of course, it’s a hundred or so years in the future where the world’s been overtaken by monsters. Bad hand once again. It’s safe to say poker’s not Joel’s thing.

The one thing Joel’s got to look forward to is a girl. Her name is Aimee. She’s got red hair. He knows that because he asked, though he’s never seen her. See, Aimee is in another bunker 30 miles from his. And they can only contact this bunker for a couple minutes a day due to battery issues. And because the hope of being with Aimee is the only reason for Joel to put on his pants every morning, he decides to do the unthinkable – go to her.

Now that might not sound difficult to you or me. 30 miles puts a lot of stress on your quads but it’s doable. Here’s the problem. Monsters. And this isn’t the monster problem you see in Pacific Rim. Or that indie movie, “Monsters.” You know when Will Smith says in the “After Earth” trailer, “Everything on this planet has evolved to kill humans?” And then you went to see the movie and nothing on this planet had evolved to kill humans?

Well imagine a movie where that was actually the case. The second Joel leaves the bunker, he’s attacked by a strange dog-like critter, a raptor-thing, a giant frog, a giant spider, giant killer moths, a weird seven feet tall ghost-like centipede thing, a three headed T-Rex, a giant sea creature, as well as a few other beasts so strange they’re impossible to describe! And all Joel is armed with is a crossbow and a mangy dog he finds along the way.

Joel fights for his life, almost dies a thousand times, saves his dog, gets saved by his dog, meets a father-like figure, meets an astronaut robot, almost dies a thousand more times, etc. There aren’t many things Joel doesn’t experience on this perilous journey. But will he make it to Aimee? And what will happen if he does? Will she be everything he hoped for?

This script. Was awesome.

Period.

It was awesome. Where do I begin? Oh, I know. I’ll begin at the end. Duffield arcs the dog character. You read that right. Duffield GIVES A CHARACTER ARC TO THE DOG! Remember the scene in Cast Away where Wilson, an inanimate object, floats away forever? And you were crying, desperately hoping your date or parents didn’t look over at that exact moment and see you drowning in tears?

There’s a moment that rivals that here with the dog. The dog, you see, was found clinging to the dress of his long-since disappeared female master. He won’t leave with Joel until Joel brings that dress with him. And he’s so stuck on that dress. He cares more about that dress than he does Joel. And then in the end (spoiler), that dress gets stuck in the ocean, where Joel is battling a monster, and he has a choice to either go after the dress or save Joel. And he picks Joel. He changes. The dog arcs. Not barcs. Arcs. And it was so fucking good you cried just like when Wilson died.

Oh, and did I tell you about the astronaut? Yeah. One of my favorite scenes all year has this robot astronaut, split in two, only wires holding her together, pulling herself across the terrain, bumping into Joel, explaining she only has 16 minutes left before her battery runs out. And the two just share her last moments together before she dies. And it’s heartbreaking. And I don’t fucking understand how anybody comes up with this stuff. We can talk about structure until the screencows come home. But you still have to have imagination. You still have to come up with unique choices. How does Duffield bring a nearly dead cut-in-half female robot astronaut into a story about monsters taking over the earth and make it work? I don’t know but it fucking makes me jealous.

And then there’s the ending. I’m not going to get into spoilers, but let’s just say what you thought was going to happen doesn’t happen. That ALSO is a trait of great writers. They take you to the place you think you’re going, then totally change things up on you. You realize the writer is in control. Not you.

There were a few other reasons I loved this script. The main character is a lovable loser. But when he befriends this dog and loses his loneliness, we officially fall in love with him. It’s really hard to have a character befriend a dog or save a dog and not like him. As ridiculous and simplistic as it sounds: we like people who love animals. Who will protect them. It’s crazy how obvious this is, yet when it’s done well, as it is here, it makes the character irresistible.

And I love stories where the obstacles are impossible, where the writer is never easy on his hero. His hero has to earn every step he takes. Remember in After Earth, where the main character is basically guided by his father the whole way? So he didn’t really earn anything? He just follows orders. Here, Joel earns every step he takes. He finds the solutions to all the problems. He outruns or outsmarts or outbeats all the monsters.

And the sheer number of monsters he has to take on is ridiculous. At one point he’s trying to get over a rickety bridge when giant moths with needle teeth attack him, teeth that inject deadly venom into him, while a 3 headed T-Rex is trying to kill him, while he drops his only weapon, his crossbow, into the monster-infested waters below. There are so many moments like this where you wonder, “How the hell is he going to get out of this alive?” And because the odds are so heavily stacked against him, we hover over the page with baited breath, reading as fast as we can so we can get the answer.And then at the heart of this script is… heart. See that’s the thing. All these big effects movies have zero heart, have zero characters we really care about. I mean does anybody in the world really care about Shia LaBeouf in Transformers? Here, we care about Joel. We care about his dog. Because Duffield knows that none of those effects will matter. This is about the character. And you will like Joel. You will love Joel. You will love this journey he goes on. You will be shocked by the ending. And when it’s over, it’ll be one of the few times you’ve finished a script and wished there were more pages to read.

[ ] what the hell did I just read?

[ ] wasn’t for me

[ ] worth the read

[x] impressive (TOP 25!!!)

[ ] genius

What I learned: The key to writing these scripts is mentally stripping out all the big creatures and monsters and robots and effects, and remembering that it’s a personal journey. Focus on making that personal journey work first. Make your audience fall in love with your main character and want them to succeed. And then build that effects world up afterwards. This is such simple advice and yet this is the first time I’ve seen it done in maybe two or three years? If you’re a big-budget writer, get this right and you’ll be golden.

What I learned 2: Choose action over dialogue to build a relationship. — Let’s say you only have one scene to make us care about a key relationship in your script. In this case, we’ll use Joel and the dog as the characters. Scene Option 1 has Joel talking to the dog over the fire. Scene Option 2 has both of them being attacked by a monster, and Joel has to make a choice between either saving himself or trying to save the dog. ALWAYS choose the second scene option. Action always accelerates a relationship faster than dialogue. Obviously, scripts are long so you’ll have the opportunity to do both, but always favor action over dialogue when you can.

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elliepassmore · 5 years

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The Bad-Ass Librarians of Tumbuktu: And Their Race to Save the World’s Most Precious Manuscripts Review

5/5 stars Recommended for people who like: history, narrative non-fiction, African history, modern history Like the title suggests, this book is about librarians in Timbuktu working to preserve and save ancient books and manuscripts. What it doesn't tell you is that the manuscripts are being saved/preserved from several different threats. The first one is nature. These manuscripts are old old and have been mostly hidden in the desert by their owners for decades. This puts wear-and-tear on them, meaning some of the information can be lost. The second threat is from Al Qaeda. The group came close to taking over the entire country of Mali and, with their intolerance, posed a threat to music, art, and literature, even if said music, art, and literature had been created by Muslims. The book looks into the conflict with Al Qaeda from a perspective I don't think we get to see very often. Instead of looking at the Middle East or terrorist attacks, Hammer dives into the presence of Al Qaeda in Mali and their effects on the culture of the region. I also think it's an interesting perspective because I, for one--and I feel many Westerners, or at least Americans might have the same problem--didn't know Al Qaeda had a presence outside of the Middle East, so it was a good education on how widespread they were. Hammer also took time to intersperse chapters about what different branches of the group were doing in Mali leading up to the taking of Timbuktu. He provides readers with some insight into how some of the leaders lived and operated, and how they came into power in the first place. The book opens up introducing the main librarian and conservationist, Abdel Kader Haidara, and talks about how he grew up and how he got into the conservation business. I especially liked the description of how Haidara went around and managed to collect all these manuscripts when so many other efforts failed. I was astounded by the sheer number of manuscripts collected--I believe the number was about 377,000--and cannot even begin to fathom the amount of time and effort it must've taken to properly care and begin to preserve each one. I also really liked that Hammer got into the details of what was in some of the manuscripts, describing the scientific, philosophical, and historical content the pieces contained. I think I would probably be satisfied with an entire book describing the manuscripts, how they were collected, and the conservation effort required for each of them--I do wish Hammer had gotten into more detail about how the manuscripts and books were preserved. As mentioned, the chapters about the books were interspersed with chapters about some of the Al Qaeda members. As disturbing as it is to think about, it was also really fascinating to read about these leaders and what they did around Mali. A lot of their atrocities are what go them into positions of power in the first place. It was especially disturbing to realize that one of the branch leaders had had a government position before turning toward fanaticism. For that particular leader, Hammer got to talk with someone who had once been the leader's friend and got insight into how the friend turned from someone who sided with the Tuaregs, an ethnic group in Mali who want(ed) a state of their own, to a trusted government employee, to a fanatic. Some of the other leaders described seemed fanatical from the beginning, starting out in different places, sometimes in different terrorist groups, before going toward Al Qaeda and becoming leaders there. I think these chapters are valuable from a historical perspective, because we get to see a bit of how these men operated and a little of how they thought. We also get a description of how life under Al Qaeda was in Timbuktu. Like all invasion events, there were some people who cooperated and some people who didn't, some who fled and some who didn't/couldn't. It was chilling to read about how the city was transformed under terrorist leadership. The punishments described, the lack of proper legal representation, the ridiculous rules about interactions and business. It must have felt oppressive to just breathe under that kind of leadership. Any minor infraction could end with a stoning or whipping or some other horrid punishment. And yet there were still people who defied Al Qaeda. Haidara and his network of smugglers, the market women who marched without their head coverings, the radio broadcaster who played music, the imam who asked for a holiday to be celebrated. Underneath the oppression and violence, there is an undercurrent of the same story of human strength and perseverance. As important as I think the chapters on Al Qaeda were, both historically and in the context of the book, I wish there had been more on the manuscript evacuation itself. Hammer describes how Haidara realized shortly after the invasion of Timbuktu by Al Qaeda that the manuscripts needed to be saved, and he described how there was a large network designed and paid off to help smuggle the manuscripts out of Al Qaeda-controlled territory and back into government-controlled territory, but I would've liked the same kind of details here as we got regarding the original collection and preservation of the manuscripts and the Al Qaeda branch leaders' rise to power. I think there was a lot of potential that could've been drawn upon for this section of the story and, while Hammer mentions Haidara says the people who helped him could still be in danger, there was opportunity to describe more of how the manuscripts got out of Al Qaeda's grasp while still safeguarding the overall operation and people involved.

#book #books #book review #book recommendations #book everyone should read #nonfiction #history #malian history #mali #timbuktu #african history

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endlessgreysky · 5 years

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August 10, 2.04 am

Fun thing about ptsd is that my brain protects itself from things, until it doesn’t. A lot has happened recently and I went numb for actual weeks, and I just had a tiny moment where I felt a tiny emotion and suddenly every emotion just rushed into the crack so quickly I had a panic attack.

Lost one of my friends. Out of everyone I’m friends with she’s the one I’d expect it from, she’s the one who’s problematic enough on her own that I honestly didn’t feel anything but rage at what happened. Then I felt nothing, and I felt a little weird and bad for it but it was more important how my friends were feeling anyway. The drama is between my best friend and her, so I’m just here being pissed because my best friend is my person and I’m wildly overprotective of her. But my other friend is like the ex-friend’s person, so it’s awkward bc she’s going to keep being friends with all of us and she just wants us to work it out. She talked to me about it yesterday and I’ve just been thinking about it ever since. The first thing I did when the drama happened was remove her from social media everywhere so she can’t contact me without it being a “request” so that I can choose whether or not I engage. Thinking back I’m just beating myself up because I’m so used to dealing with drama that I never stopped to think if that was the best idea in this situation. And it’s not like I’m super excited or ready or willing to let her even a tiny bit back into my life, but in all honesty everything I feel towards her regards what happens with my best friend, so if they work things out I’ll still have removed her everywhere. I guess I got so used to losing friends and everything being impermanent that it took me this long to realize the friends I’m losing now are the ones I’d started to consider family.

I’m pissed at her, a part of me hates her, a part of me never wants to even look at her face again, but it hurts. It’s just this nagging ache that I felt when I realized that she was my family for awhile and I just shattered a part of my family since she’ll always be around as long as my other friend is. And that ache is what let in all of my other feelings as something besides my numb depressed state.

My mom had someone she loved die today and threw herself into a dinner with my dads shitty fucking family right after. They condescended her because that’s what they do, they condescended me because they think she doesn’t know how to raise me, and honestly I just hate being around them and it was in the house I grew up in and it was just really uncomfortable. Not to mention that my dad exists to make me miserable. But my mom thought things were going really well and she was actually feeling great when we went home, only to find that my cousin posted the picture she took while my mom watched her take it, and tagged everyone in it except my mom. And it made my mom upset and excluded and all of those feelings which made me really upset bc no one gets to ever fucking make my mother feel that way. She deserves better. Quite honestly, I deserve better, but I don’t care enough about myself for that.

My two best friends in the entire world deserve better too. The one I talked about earlier has a lot of dumb family drama and it’s been a hell of a lot worse lately, and there’s nothing real I can do to help her besides talk about how nice it’ll be when we have an apartment together. It’s not very reassuring since I don’t even have a job yet. And her birthday is coming soon and her family is just remaining shitty as if she’s not about to turn eighteen which should be huge and exciting. And my other best friend goes through a lot and I just can only help her so much through text but she lives in another country so there’s literally nothing more I can do to help her. It’s the worst feeling in the world, to want to fix something or help someone and literally being unable to do it.

I’m really lonely. I still haven’t told my mom about my ptsd and I’ve kind of been closed off because I don’t want to tell her anymore. My best friend lives in another country, my other has a job, and my only other real friend now is moving into a dorm soon. Those are my people and they’re amazing people and I love them with everything in me but it’s just like, there’s something missing. I guess I was really in love with this guy that broke my heart and it’s not even him anymore, it’s just that I miss that feeling. I’m tired of being alone. And almost all of my trauma is from my ex, so being in a healthy relationship is literally the only thing that works best to heal and shit bc it replaces the bad memories with good ones. My therapist says if I do that enough it should blot them out a lot, and it’s worked so fucking well with my friends that I’m just dying for it to happen romantically. I’ve been having more flashbacks and nightmares again bc my ex is back in town and it’s just looming over my head. And just bc all of my mental health is getting worse. And I have a lot of methods to cope now that are helping, but there was something about my recent ex that just helped. Like, I had a flashback once and he wrapped his arm around me and that was all it took to calm me down. It was just the feeling of being with someone in that way that was safe and comfortable and it was something I’d never felt before and idk if I’m a junkie for it or if I miss it or what but I don’t know how to really get better without that happening. And it’s going to take so much time for that to actually be able to happen again and it’s just killing me ig. I’ve also jumped into this self destructive state where I’ve convinced myself that I want or even need to see my ex again for like closure or some bullshit, as if I don’t know the fucking panic I would go through even if we stayed forty feet away from each other the entire time.

My life has gotten so quiet and depressed recently that I’ve stopped listening to music most of the time, which is like ridiculously sad. And concerning. Music is literally the thing in this world that means the most to me that I care the most about and I just don’t fucking care about it right now. I don’t feel like I have the mental energy. I have no idea why or what’s wrong with me but you know what? It’s terrifying me.

I’ve been drowning all of my problems in fanfiction like nobody’s business. It’s wildly problematic bc I’m burying my feelings, I’m not doing anything bc on the days I don’t read all day I’m sleeping all day bc I read all night. I haven’t written anything for my novel in a month now and I’m very aware of it but I couldn’t be bothered to work on it, which is bad bc I’m about two weeks away from missing my second goal for it and I’ll beat myself up a lot once I start having feelings again. (Funnily enough I’m going numb again now that I’m getting all of my emotions out here.) I’ve deadass cancelled plans with myself and other people to read the fanfiction. And like it’s great fucking fanfiction but it’s getting far passed even the term unhealthy. In fact, I literally started crying during my panic attack earlier because I’d convinced myself Wade Wilson was so real that when reality hit I couldn’t handle it. It’s like I was using Wade comforting Peter (Parker, its Spideypool) as my own emotional comfort in that kind of relationship way I’ve been missing. And even knowing he’s not real I’ve been taking a lot of comfort knowing he would beat the shit out of my ex if he ever met him. But yeah I’ve been channeling myself through their relationship and living through it and it’s been one of my most incredible acts of escapism yet, and then I realized I don’t actually have someone to hold me when I break and reality crashed onto me so much fucking harder. And I think it’s also that I know Wade’s character enough to trust him and so I’ve become a fictional characters emotional leech and I let it get so intense unintentionally that I literally couldn’t handle the reality that didn’t have him in it. This kind of makes me sound crazy lmao. Funnily enough, I used to have breakdowns like this a lot whenever I got way too into my escapism. But usually it was just a lot of sadness - the only other time I had one at this level was when I started to realize that my entire fantasy universe wasn’t going to come to life when I grew up. Basically, I had a very intense childhood but like fuck i was lonely back then and I guess I must be that lonely now. At least this time I’m creating fake significant others instead of having only imaginary friends.

My therapist and I haven’t been able to meet much over the summer and it’s been enough for me to pull back and make my issues seem better than they are, which is probably a lot of the reason I’m suddenly a fucking mess. Luckily for me, she’s gone this week so I won’t get to see her 🙃. But anyway, I think I got everything out and I definitely feel like this helped. I needed to vent in a way I haven’t done in a while. I’ve also been being misgendered a LOT on my recent trips and it’s all by family which affects me worse bc they know my identity and don’t work to correct themselves. So that’s not helping. And it might be almost 3 am now but I’m definitely diving straight back into fanfiction for awhile longer before going to bed. I can admit I’ve taken it way over the top but escapism is my bitch for a reason and I’m not giving up on it now. I think I am gonna try to make some sort of note for my therapist so that I don’t keep talking about my issues like they’re better than they are. I always do it but with her it’s a problem lmao. Oh, I’m also avoiding sleep tonight bc I don’t want nightmares. So there’s that gem. I turn 18 in 15 days and I’ve stopped making plans bc I literally don’t care anymore. Taking stock on the things I’ve stopped caring about, I’m literally a huge fucking mess and I didn’t even realize. Oh! And I’ve also started having a lot of self esteem issues bc it’s hot outside and my stretch marks on my thighs show with my shorts on. That hasn’t been a problem for me in years.

Anyway, I think I’m finally done now. I seriously doubt anyone read all the way through this long ass vent, but on the off chance that you did, thank you for your time. I really appreciate it. I hope you’re having a better time than I am, you deserve all of the good things and I hope you’re getting all of them and more. Please have a good morning, day, or night. Stay hydrated and do something nice for yourself bc you deserve it! All my love 💕

Chris xx

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consummate-deviant · 7 years

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The Character of Android 17

What’s up, friendos? So, Android 17 has been the toast of the town in Dragon Ball circles lately. Don’t get me wrong, that’s awesome and definitely deserved: the dude is unquestionably the MVP of the tournament of power, and if you try to say otherwise, I’ll… shrug and carry on with my day, I guess. You do you, I ain’t your dad.

No, but seriously, go to any discussion forum or comment section these days, and you’ll see plenty of people talking about how great and cool 17 was, and how he’s definitely shone more than any other during the current arc. I agree with the sentiment whole-heartedly, so we’re not here to discuss that, rather, I want to bring up some of the negativity that has come along with this newfound bump in fan appreciation.

See, where there’s hype, there must be backlash, and 17 has been subjected to plenty of that. With every more popular member of team universe 7 to be eliminated before him, the number of people bitter at his continued presence grew. This is fine, in and of itself, for the ‘not your dad’ reason I listed above, but there are two specific complaints I occasionally hear about 17 that I just can’t co-sign for you, and I decided to write this up to address them.

The first is: “He’s not even the same character he was! This guy doesn’t act anything like 17/has nothing in common with his DBZ incarnation”

the second is: “He’s boring/blank/bland! He has no personality.”

Since I’m one of the five people worldwide who listed Android 17 as his favorite character ever since the good ole days of Z, I figure the least I can do is roll up my sleeves and share some of the reasons I disagree with the above, as well as express how I see his actions and arc. We’ll go through the timeline of events he participated in, and see if we can’t parse together the delinquent he was with the chill park ranger he would become!

PART 1: A Reminder of the Android’s Origin and the Future Timeline

So, Android 17 was originally Lapis, a teenage delinquent who would often go out and rabble-rouse with his sister and his droogs, playing their rap music too loud, wearing pants with the waistband far lower than the waistband of pants should be allowed to hang in civilized society, and other stuff like that, I assume.

Unfortunately for the duo, Dr. Gero was about, looking for a team of teenagers with attitude he could convert into an armada of godless killing machines. One might feel prompted to ask why Gero intended to create machines so powerful that he couldn’t control them uness they wanted to listen to his orders, but sought the demographic of humans statistically least likely to ever listen to what an old man has to say to them to be the vessels of those machines, but this isn’t an essay about Gero being a silly, silly man.

Rather, the salient point to take out of the backstory we’re given is that 17 and 18 started out with a chip on their shoulder and a lack of love for people or society. We don’t get any info on their home life or their parents, but based on their choice of hobby, and the ease with which they were spirited away, we can safely assume there were no happy beginnings here. From the moment they became relevant to the universe of DB they were already in a position to hate society; being kidnapped by a madman and turned into cyborgs specifically to vent THAT madman’s hatred of society only exacerbated this, resulting in a mixture that basically burned the world to the ground.

Fast forward to some time later, and humans are an endangered species, Gohan has been disarmed, and Trunks has been brought to the verge of death. We don’t really learn a lot about the personalities of the future incarnation of the androids. They behaved like a pair of psychopathic children, destroying the world less because of any deeply held hatred or bloodlust, but more because it sounded like a fun idea and what else were they gonna do with their weekend? They share some elements of their character with the versions of themselves who would be proper cast members, which I’ll get to later, but for the purposes of the story they were more of a force of nature than anything.

It’s too late for the future… but not the entire multiverse! So Trunks head back to the past, but hold up, Jack! Would his warnings prove accurate?

Part 2: Android 17 in DBZ

The first thing we learn about android 17 is that he’s a troll. Seriously, not only is he quite sardonic in his disposal of his stepdad, the first interaction he has with the Z warriors, his nominal enemies, is to beckon Krillin over to him, then abruptly stand up and frighten him. No end game, no intent to harm, he just really wanted to screw with the poor guy. He’s a gadfly who frequently says and does things for no greater reason than to see the reaction they provoke in others.

The second thing we learn is that he shares his future incarnation’s flippant, whimsical attitude, but to a less morbid extreme. He makes short work of the assembled heroes, but treats it like clearing the arcade mode of a fighting game, stopping at the knockout and expressing a hope they may be more fun if he encounters them again. When 18 steps up to fight Vegeta, 17 reacts to it like a child whose sister beat him to calling dibs on the front seat during a car trip.

The third thing we learn is that he is one cocky little punk. He refers to himself as the ultimate warrior on multiple occasions, brags constantly about himself, and treats the notion of anyone being his rival, much less stronger than he is, as a notion so ridiculous that it doesn’t even deserve his contempt.

These three traits are important because they remain central to his disposition even as a grown man, albeit to a far more muted and mature degree, even though his personality does change quite a bit during the ten years we don’t see him. It may be tempting to say that being eaten by a bug man was what served to put a sock in his constant “I’m the best in the world” talk, and that certainly did play a role in who he became, but I would say his character started to change a little bit before that: during his fight with Piccolo.

The thing about 17’s strength is that it has nothing to do with martial prowess. As a delinquent he certainly had experience in street fights, but he never did any formal training, or did anything that would require effort or discipline. When Gero made 17 an android he made him so strong that he could crush anyone he encountered, but it was just that, raw strength. It had no technique or prowess behind it.

As the fight progresses, we see 17’s attitude toward Piccolo change subtly. At the start, he’s just a toy to be played with, another level in his game to be cleared and forgotten about, but as it progresses Piccolo does something that 17 had never encountered before: he holds his own. With skill and grace, he matches every move 17 has, blow for blow. In the past 17 had had many fights as a bully and a thug, but this was the first time in his life he did battle as a warrior, and he liked the feel of it. He expresses a kind of respect for piccolo as their fight reaches its end, even though it is couched in his trademark, planet-sized, ego. It was an encounter that took the first step toward redeeming him, and setting him down the path we would see him walking in Super.

...and then a bug ate him… Yeah, it’s hard to stay arrogant after you’ve been eaten by a bug, so that helped too. My big sticking point is that it’s often assumed that if Cell hadn’t screwed up the flow of events, the modern androids would have eventually became their future selves, but I think there’s a chance for their redemption even without Cell, provided at some point in time 18 meets Krillin and 17 fights the fused Kami-Piccolo.

Part 3: 17 in DBS and the Tournament of Power

Ten years pass, Android 17 is, if not in his thirties, pushing up close to ‘em for certain. His personality is now quite placid, and he’s a family man, carrying on 16’s spirit by protecting nature, and carrying on the fire that Piccolo lit in him a decade ago by training constantly to improve his technique. Now, I maintain that his character is still consistent, but does he BEHAVE differently now? Of course he does. Look, I don’t know how old you are, reader person, but I promise you, when more than a few seasons separate you from your teenage years, you will look back at who you were as a teenager, and the things you did… and you will cringe. Hard. Heck, I’m in my thirties now, and I look back at the things I said and did in my early twenties and cringe, sometimes. Growing older is a game of constantly realizing how ridiculous you used to be and hoping you’re less ridiculous now.

So yeah, he is more mature, but the three elements that are the center of his character are intact. He is a merciless gadfly throughout his entire run in Super. He exchanges affectionate barbs with his sister when he meets her daughter, he teases Krillin’s nervousness around him, despite expressing to Goku that he was fond of the man, and considered him his brother, and in general never openly acting like he took anything he encountered as seriously as he really did.

He still tends to treat everything around him like a giant game, made most evident by all of his interactions with Universe 2, but most of all with Ribrianne and her Kamikaze Fireballs, playing the role they provided him with abandon and gusto- when Ribrianne accused him of being a villain from some kind of magical girl anime… he promptly starts hamming it up and acting like a villain in some kind of magical girl anime!

He’s no longer the loud mouthed braggart he was as a teenager, sure, but his faith in himself remains strong. It’s just that it’s no longer childish, absolute arrogance, and instead has been tempered into a realistic confidence in his own abilities. When faced with insurmountable odds, he remains calm and studies his situation carefully, never moving recklessly, but also never losing faith in his ability to eventually find a way to overcome the situation he finds himself in.

The tournament of power DOES introduce an important arc to 17’s character, though, and it’s a surprisingly subtle one. Sadly, I’ve already typed up 2,000 words on the subject, so I’m going to go ahead and stop here for now. This is how I perceive the character, and why I like him so much. If anyone wants me to, I may type up the second essay on 17 I have rattling around in my head sometime, and reveal how 17 accomplishes something impossible: makes JIREN an interesting antagonist.

#dragon ball super #dragon ball z #android 17 #db super

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