#this is the ​highlighted quote in that whole archives

[ohdarlings]

[sgiandubh]

@outlanderskin :"For those who have doubts: just research a little about Caitríona's dating history. See how she treated Dave and James and how she talked about them in interviews. See how she wrote about the Irish boyfriend she had in Paris in that article. Compare all of this to the impersonal way she treats or talks about Tony. Bingo🙃"

Good point 👌

Dear Good Point Anon,

You know, it's really serendipitous, as I have just finished a weeklong deep dive in very, very old press articles on (or at least mentioning) S and C, who clearly had a life before OL, thinking it would be nice to put some of my archive work skills to good service.

I think @outlanderskin was referring to C's New York Times article I reviewed and analyzed last summer, but I just found way better: a very long report in the Irish Independent's Sunday issue of July 11, 2004, focused on the next generation of Irish supermodels. Of which there could be only one, at that time: C, who dominates Roxanne Parker's 'Through Thick and Thin".

I am sorry, there is no link available to my knowledge, so we'll have to work with these very poor xerox scans:

I took the liberty of generously using my dreaded highlighter and, for the people who need to translate this post with Google, I am now taking my time to type what I find damn interesting in this almost twenty-year old article:

'If Ireland ever has a hope of having its own supermodel, then Caitriona Balfe is it. Sitting in the Pink Pony Café on Ludlow Street in New York, Caitriona swirls a wad of bread into her carrot and coriander soup while informing me that her musician boyfriend just brought her a breakfast-in-bed of cream eclairs and coffee a little over an hour ago. But that doesn't stop Caitriona from finishing her lunch and chasing it with a large cocoa-dusted cappuccino. Ebony-tressed and ivory-skinned, Caitriona clip-clops down the cobbled street after we leave the cafe, heading towards her apartment in Chinatown with Dave Mailone (sic!), the boyfriend, in tow.'

This reads, in 2024, like an interview with a more benevolent C clone from a totally different planet, indeed. A young, carefree, in love and hysterically funny C, who apparently had no problem heavily dishing out happy tidbits of her private life to her home country's press. A C also very much reminiscing anyone with a brain of the 2013-2018 bantering C, as this quote shows:

Again, you'll have to indulge me retyping it, Anon (tedious, I know - but helpful). She is remembering her real breakthrough, in November 2002, at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, in New York:

That was the most I've ever been paid for a show. I've got 18,000 euros for one day's work! They made me get a spray tan before the show, and I was still the whitest and the least well-endowed girl in the entire show! So what did she have to wear on the big day? `Not a whole lot! I think I described my outfit on the day as something Wilma Flintstone would wear on her honeymoon night. There wasn't a whole lot to it and it had bits of fur hanging off it.'

And, for good measure, we even have a (admittedly, awful) picture with the season's fiancé, with whom things did not end well:

I know, it looks like a Pravda pic, circa 1957 and I am honestly sorry. But it's still very clear. And, which is more important, very eloquent.

Anon and reader, you draw your own conclusions on this. I know where I stand. The only guy C has similar pics taken with and released in the press or on social media is the peasant some love to bash every single day in here. Their problem, not mine.

Yes, of course Mordor will yell and hiss. Of course they will throw rotten tomatoes at the blunt knife and scream THIS IS OLD. But hey, do you have any better than this poor (but oh, so endearingly authentic) picture or than any given S&C pic before the fucking EFH and IFH, when she gradually started to turn into today's Reclusive, Restrained and Rarefied Greta Garbo wannabe?

Oh, and please: don't give me the 'he's shy' or the paperwork crap again. Her public persona has drastically changed, and not for the better. It's plain to see and there are reasons for this.

Who's to blame? This question is so wrong, in so many ways.

The question should be 'what's to blame?'

I'll stop here, Anon and I hope it was somewhat useful. Thank you for dropping by.

[basilone]

I want to hear your thoughts on fandom and the recent influx of the term content creation!

Well, anon, you are in luck! (Or not, depending on your definition of luck. 😉) I just so happen to have many Thoughts & Opinions™ about this. I will get wordy, this will get lengthy, and I will be social and put most of my thoughts under a readmore cut.

I personally try to avoid the terms ‘content’ and ‘content creation’ when talking about fandom works and a fandom’s creative pursuits nowadays. Occasionally, sure, it happens that it slips out anyway – it’s a term we’re all really used to using! – but I want to be as mindful about its use as possible. This is a personal decision on my account and I won’t get uppity about other people’s use of these terms, though.

But, Killy, you might say... why would you avoid using these terms? For me, here’s why:

Content is not synonymous with art;

Content creation indicates something different than art creation;

Fandom should not be subject to consumerism;

Fandom is about connection.

If all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die.

Yeah. I know. Melodramatic much? I’m on my fainting couch here, folks. 😂 But let’s dig in, shall we?

You know, maybe it’s just the archivist in me that balks at the term ‘content’. Content is a data entry field in the archival system we use at my real-life job: literally speaking, this data entry field is where we put a brief summary of the document attached to that specific archival file. It contains information that tells you the key takeaways of what the document is about, but it will not contain the full text of the document itself. Content is one of the points of access for our archival search: I know what I’m looking for, so I put a few keywords into our search and it pulls up the relevant file. But what do I need, really need, in my line of work? It’s the document itself, not the data entry field. The document tells me the whole story that I need to be able to truly do my job well. The content-field is a cliffnotes edition of that story.

It’s the same way with the art we create in fandom. I’m gonna take myself as an example here, because I create a fair bit! (Shocking, I know. Local Tumblr cryptid sighting, more at 11. 😎) I spend hours writing fic. I spend hours sorting through screencaps before screeching at Photoshop for a lengthy amount of time. I spend days pouring over quotes, books, documents, photographs, tutorials, and other things that will help me create something cool. I apply color theory, art framing/perspective, narrative focus, and many other theories and techniques to my writing and my giffing. If I were to put my finished work or any of my WIPs in that same archive system, it would be the document within the archival file. The tags I use on my posts? Those are markers similar to the content-field. They tell you who my gifset depicts and from which show it is. They tell you which OC of mine my fic is about. My work contains these things I tagged.

But my creative work is not content itself.

Content is marketable, easy access, blurb-y stuff. Content is something you absorb within one minute flat. Content is the highlight reel. It’s what fills a page, something you’ll scroll past in a heartbeat, something that barely stands out in a long long long list of stuff. Content is what you consume on a lazy Sunday afternoon without ever being forced to read lengthy pieces, take in the details of what you see, pause mid-scroll to ponder the meaning of life, whatever else have you. Create content and you create a flash in the pan, a quick laugh maybe, before it fizzles back out again. Create content and it’s here today and gone tomorrow without anyone mourning its absence for too long.

Art should last longer than that, don’t you think? 😉

So when I see people put a fic request in an askbox and it’s phrased like “Speirs x spy!reader fluff” and that very same request makes its way into about ten more askboxes before the fandom starts comparing asks? I might be inclined to classify us all as slot machines. Put an ask in and out rolls a fic. Who cares which slot machine it came from? As long as you’ve got your painstakingly crafted fics that you consume the same way you do actual content, right? We, its writers, are just lucky if we get a pat of acknowledgement on our little slot machine head for our troubles, aren’t we?

When I see an overly detailed summary of what sounds like a full-fledged fic in an askbox and the demand is “write this for me”, I recoil from the screen and go “child, who the hell birthed you, were you raised in a barn?” out loud. If you can tell a story in the space of an askbox, consider asking for help to let that story – a story you own, a story that is more yours that it could ever be mine – grow into what it has the potential to be.

When I see fics and gifsets and other creations get likes but not reblogs, I mutter something about the state of fandom economy these days. We exist in a little fandom bubble. Our bubble can’t expand or blow from place to place without a little help from our friends. And you’re my friends, right? I know the follow-button says follow, guys, believe me, I’m not that far gone, but for me ‘follow’ means ‘friend’. 💚 You’re my buddy now. Suck it up. We’ll share a can of peaches. 🍑

When I see fics and other creations get reblogged without tags or comments attached, I die a little on the inside. I feel like a little Victorian orphan child going “please, reblogger, a little penny of thought for its creator, if it pleases?”. I feel like commentless and/or tagless reblogging is giving me nothing, nothing at all, about who you are.

And I want to get to know you! I want to know who’s in my notes. I want to know who’s scrambling through my MotA gifsets like a fat little raccoon inhaling its third helping of a box of jelly-filled donuts. I want to know who is adopting which character and why. I want to know that it’s your birthday, or that you had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up, or that you are locked in an Ikea at three in the morning reading my blog by the bright lights of countless Solhetta bulbs. I want to know that you love my OC Darlene but that you ain’t sure what the hell my OC Lottie’s got to do with anything. I want to know what tickles you – a turn of phrase I used, a color in a gifset, a little detail I captured that made me go !!!!!! on the inside while I was creating too – and I want to know what moves you.

What reaches into the soil of your being and nourishes you enough to blossom into whichever lovely self you can grow to be? What is precious to you? What comforts you in the dark nights of your soul, when all light feels like it’s faded out? What do you love, truly love? What feeling and thought and idea and love love LOVE do you consume – truly consume, head to tail, no takebacks – and what are you consumed by in turn?

Let me connect with you. Let me know the little internet scraps of you that tell me you’re a DeMarco girlie, or that you’re here for Hoosier only, or that you’re as feral and batty about Speirs as I am, or that you actually really can’t stand the one dude everyone else raves about. Let me know that you like angsty quotes on gifsets – feel free to yell at me for making you schedule an impromptu therapy session – or let me know you saw what I did in my fic there and you’ll be demanding compensation from me while you lie down and wail about it. Let me know you’re very into those lovely blues on a gifset (I know, SO good, right??) or that you are side-eyeing me because that close-up of your fave turned you into a little puddle.

Let me know what moves you, because I created these things with love. I created them because they moved me, too. I created them because I have a story to tell, somehow. I created them because the whole world is a string of stories and I want to pass the heart of them on to you. I created them not because I want to jump on a hypetrain that races past all the episodes and all the alternate universes and all the stories without stopping, but because I want to soak up the sun and point at something and tell you “look, isn’t this beautiful?”. I created them not because I am looking for a quick fix or a distraction or an escape, but because I want to give you something that nourishes you as it has nourished me.

That’s so much more than that quick flash in the pan, yeah? That’s so much more than what content could ever hope to be. That’s something that lasts beyond the clicks and gives you an ever-expanding horizon that leaves you wondering just what in the world is next.

Let me repeat point five: if all a fandom puts out is classified as content, that fandom is going to die. Because content doesn’t sustain you. Connection does. And connection? That happens with meaningful interaction. That happens when you stop getting followers and start getting friends. That happens when you treat all forms of art as something unique that can be precious to someone, rather than something to like today and forget about tomorrow.

Can I do a lil mic drop? Yeah. I think I’m gonna. Just this once. 🎤

[rosietrace]

「 Three Roses 」

⊱────────────────────⊰

Central Character(s) ; 『 Maria Alarik, “Bloody Mary” 』 | 『 Lancelot Novellion, “The Second Son” 』

Others ; Davidson Novellion | Noor Jawahir

Mentioned ; Isfrid Aneira | Astrid Aneira | Roya Callistis | Gwendolyn Schnee (vaguely mentioned)

Pairing(s) ; Maria & Lance | Davis & Noor | Roya & Gwen (hinted at)

【 All Ocs belong to their respective owners and will be credited at the end. 】

Synopsis: “Nothing in the world belongs to me, but my love, mine all mine all mine.”

Warning(s): No angst just tooth-rotting fluff, okay that's a lie there's a little angst, Lance got advice from Roya so that's a plus, Door content‼️‼️, they're so Mitski coded it's actually insane, cute banter ig

[ Apologies for any out of character moments ]

⊱────────────────────⊰

⊱────────────────────⊰

Maria stared down at the rose in her hands, or rather, the multiple roses in her hands. Three, total.

They've been in her possession for somewhat of a long time, by now, and no matter how much Noor questioned on why she kept them for so long, Maria persisted in saying she'd rather keep the roses until they're nothing but wilted stems.

Lance had been generous in giving her roses during special occasions. It was embarrassing for Maria how silently giddy she was in the back of her head every time he gave her a rose— a small, but meaningful declaration of his affections for his Bloody Mary.

It made her chuckle, every so often, when she remembered the teasing Lance would get every time she and him parted ways, and Davis met his baby brother soon after to relentlessly throw onslaught after onslaught of teasing.

⊱───────────────⊰

“Another rose? For me?”

Maria smiled, crossing her arms. Yet another joint event between RSA and NRC — this time hosted by RSA — and Lance made it an opportunity of his to sneak Maria away from everyone else.

Now, they leaned against the bookshelves of one of the deeper, darker parts of the Royal Sword archive— with the second son of BlackHeart making a valiant effort in trying to, quote on quote, ‘kabedon’ Maria.

Which he failed. Miserably. He was lucky Maria wasn't teasing him, yet.

He cleared his throat. Barely a word in, and a flush of pink dusted his cheeks. “I… I guess I've turned it into a bit of a tradition.”

“A tradition I don't mind,” Maria's smile widened, if not ever so slightly. “It's not something to be embarrassed about.”

“Try telling that to my brother…” Lance felt exasperated just mentioning Davis; and that wasn't even bringing up what Maria could only assume was a massacre of teasing if Lance ever told Davis he'd steal her away from the crowd.

“Hmm, true,” Maria tilted her head closer to Lance, “your brother's kind of a handful.”

Lance raised a brow. “Kind of?”

“You have reason to doubt that, Novellion?”

“Many, actually.”

“Pffft- He isn't a manchild, Lance.”

“In public.” Lance clarified, crossing his arms. “He's not a manchild, in public.”

She giggled. “Is there something you aren't telling me, Lancelot Novellion?” Maria questioned with a mock-stern tone.

He smiled, tilting his head back at her. “Maybe, maybe not. You can never truly know.”

Maria whistled, her nose brushing against Lance's. “You're getting a whole lot smoother, Lancelot Novellion…”

He chuckled, his forehead soon pressing against her own. “I'm glad you think so.”

His arms wrapped around Maria's waist, bringing her close enough for his nose to breathe in her scent at the crook of her neck.

Maria lightly smacked his shoulder. “Lance!” She scolded, though it wasn't much of a scolding with the way she was smiling.

In retaliation, Lance's only line of defense was the rose that remained in his hands, which he soon offered to Maria. Thankfully, merciful Bloody Mary that she was, Maria accepted.

And for good measure, an additional kiss to Lance's cheek.

The highlight of Maria's day was the red of Lance's face after the fact, as well as the rose she received by way of unofficial tradition.

⊱───────────────⊰

The second rose given was just as special; Maria and Noor were the ‘plus ones’ of the Lucretius brothers during a particularly eventful noble gathering in the BlackHeart empire.

Noor eyed the sea of aristocrats before her, whistling lowly. “Hoo… would you look at that,” she gave Davis a look.

He recognized the meaning of that expression in less than a heartbeat. “At what, dearest Apollonia?” He brought her hand into his, amber eyes meeting hers.

“Lots of people to mess with,” Noor answered, a low laugh escaping her lips.

Davis brought a hand to his chest, his gasp nothing short of theatric. “Sweet Apollonia…” his feigned shock transitioned into a cheeky grin that was soon paired by a kiss to Noor's hand. “... you are nothing short of perfection.”

With that, the pair were off. Lance wasn't surprised Davis was so willing to go along with Noor's antics; being the heir to the throne, he might've had a lot of responsibility… but compared to his little brother, Davis was less likely to get a scolding from his mother while their father was currently bedridden from unknown circumstances.

“And… they're off.” Isfrid Aneira blinked, bewildered and possibly concerned over how the events of the night will go on from there.

Her sister, Astrid, was beaming with energetic intensity. “Not going to lie… I kinda wanna see how this'll go..”

Isfrid’s eyebrows raised. “Huh-?”

“She's joking,” Lance chimed in, eliciting a slight yelp on the part of Isfrid. “Hopefully.”

“You better start hoping a little more hopily!” Astrid decreed, rushing off to wreak havoc alongside Davis and sweet, sweet Noor.

“Hopily isn't even a word….” Isfrid murmured, letting out a quiet, ice cold breath. Naturally cold to the touch, even now.

Lance shrugged. “It'll work out… probably.” The probably was doing the heavy lifting for that sentence. Not a good sign, in Isfrid's eyes.

Lance and Isfrid eventually went off on their own ways; the latter following her sister to stop her from — hopefully — not getting into too much trouble, while the former…

Lance found Maria on the balcony, isolating herself from the rest of crowd. Dressed for spectacle with skin that shone like the moon, it was like he couldn't focus on anything else once his sights were set on Maria.

With a heart skipping its beat, Lance crept up to Maria, lightly tapping her on the shoulder to garner her attention away from her undivided gaze upon the night sky. No stars, only the company of the moon.

“Oh,” Maria smiled slightly, leaning back and relaxing against the balcony once it processed to her that it was just Lance. “Isolating yourself from the crowd, too?”

“You could say that,” Lance said softly, looking between her and the moon. “Davis and Noor are at it again.”

“When are they not, though?” Maria retorted.

Lance couldn't argue about that. “True.”

After a beat of silence, Lance muttered. “... You look beautiful.”

Maria averted her gaze from the color of his irises to the gleam of the moonlight that they were currently bathed in. “... Thanks.”

“You're someone who naturally attracts attention,” Lance's voice was soft, velvety. “You… you're like the flame that attracts so many, many moths.”

And I am one of them, he thought to himself. Not even the least bit ashamed of it. Because unlike his brother, Lance was okay with putting his pride aside.

He awaited Maria's response. He'd predicted that she'd comment on how he was one of those moths. But instead, what she uttered was, “You're becoming more poetic, as of recently.”

While he wasn't anticipating a comment like that, Lance also wasn't surprised she'd comment on it at all.

“You have Roya to thank for that.”

Roya — frighteningly and hopelessly enamored man that he was for, in Davis' words, ‘his special little snowflake’ — had given Lance a thing or two when it came to improving on his… lackluster efforts in poetic flattery.

Maria's eyebrows shot up. “Roya? Roya, as in, Davis-wants-him-dead Roya?”

Lance couldn't fight the laugh that unexpectedly left him. “Yeah… yeah, that Roya.”

There again, that dramatic pause of silence awaited them so exquisitely, so beautifully. Not as beautiful as the moon and the light that shone over them.

Not nearly as beautiful as Maria's entire being.

That being said, Lance knew he had to go. He had as much responsibility of being a prince as Davis; albeit, a much smaller reach, lesser influence on the people Davis would later govern in a not so distant future.

He looked over at Maria, his hand gently grazing her chin, turning it slightly; all so she could meet his eyes.

“I have to go now…” unlike his brother, Lance wasn't the least bit ashamed of how unapologetic he could sound with such simple words.

“Ah,” Maria brought Lance's hand, the one that tenderly grazed her chin, up to her cheek, pressing it against the touch of his palm against her face. “I… understand.”

Lance kissed the crown of her head, smiling at Maria. He needn't say another word to her, having bid her adieu.

Only then, when his presence was nowhere beside her, did Maria finally notice the rose he'd placed on the balcony’s stone railing.

⊱───────────────⊰

Lance never quite had what Davis had. The attention, the pride, the glory that came with being the heir to the throne— Lance had never grown up believing that the BlackHeart throne would ever be his.

And that was fine with him. He didn't want, nor need, the throne the way Davis did.

Nothing in the world seemed to truly be… Lance's. For even when the world was his playground, with an emperor that conquered realm after realm and an empire wealthier than most kings— nothing could distract Lance from the obvious fact that those were never his.

They were Davis'.

Davis, on the throne. Davis with the world at his fingertips.

Davis, with his charm and cruelty, destined to make the history books; whether good or bad it did not matter.

Undoubtedly, that was likely what made Lance's love for Maria so… perfect.

The world was never his. He could gaze up at the moon and tell its patron, Artemis, Selene, it did not matter who— he could tell the god with the moon as their symbol that the world was, and never will be, his.

Nothing in the world belonged to him. Not once, not ever, never for free. There would always be a price to pay if he were to be selfish.

The moon was there. Before and after, it would always be there, shining down on Lance.

He took a good look at it, now. Currently sitting on the balcony of his dorm room, he felt more comforted at that very moment than during any part of his childhood.

After one look up, he took a look down. Maria slept with her head nestled on his lap, lips parted, eyes fluttered shut.

Beautiful.

Lance had often called Davis ‘creepy’ for staring at Noor for longer than Lance would deem appropriate— but now… his brother was free to call Lance a hypocrite for that, now, with the way he gazed down at Maria's sleeping form.

Gently, he took out his gift for her, to end the day; a dark red, rose. Matching that of the streak in Maria's hair, the color of her eyes.

Lance stared at it for a long while, looking at it to make sure that it was nothing short of perfection in the same vein as his father expecting that from Davis— Maria deserved nothing but the best.

Breathing had never felt so difficult when it was around her; to Lance, she was the flame that attracted so many people, so many moths— treating him with humanity, not putting him on some pedestal.

He'll wake her, eventually. The night was still too young to do it, but when the time came, Lance would wake her; and he'd make sure that she'd wake with only the most perfect rose he could find. The one he held in his hands just wasn't enough.

He smiled down at her, the way only a fool in love would smile. His hands moved parts of her hair from her forehead, admiring every little detail he could find about it— memorizing every part until it was all he could think about.

Loving Maria felt right. Loving her felt as easy as breathing.

She taught Lance, a prince who'd done nothing but give until there was nothing left to give, that it was okay to be selfish.

⊱────────────────────⊰

【 Taglist / Credits 】

↳ In order of OC appearances/mentions

Maria Alarik — @jasdiary

Lancelot Novellion — Me 😈

Davidson Novellion — Also Me 😈

Noor Jawahir — @/jasdiary

Isfrid Aneira — @/jasdiary

Astrid Aneira — @starry-night-rose

Roya Callistis — Also (x2) Me 😈

Gwendolyn Schnee — @/starry-night-rose

|| @authoruio || @fumikomiyasaki || @nem0-nee || @sakuramidnight15 || @hallowed-delights / @terrovaniadorm || @twsted-princess || @absolutelyobsessedkiya / @twistedsongstressofstarz || @mystery-skulls-ghost || @valse-a-mille-temps ||

[gretchensinister]

Daily Fic Highlight: Incarnation

The winner of the kudos email today is:

Incarnation is a SkekGra/UrGoh longfic about their early days in exile at the Circle of the Suns as they start to understand each other better, work out their skeksis and mystic baggage, and slowly fall in love. It's from SkekGra's point of view, and when I say he pines I mean he could be a whole Christmas tree farm. Slow burn--but it does burn. 152,469 words, E, M/M (for whatever values of "M" two different aliens who used to be one alien have).

In other posts I've made about this I usually quote "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver to convey what Incarnation is about, and now I'm going to do it again:

"You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves."

I jumped into The Dark Crystal fandom with this, and it was so much fun to write I feel like it restored all my powers.

Sample:

“UrGoh, maybe—maybe this—” Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, SkekGra thought he wanted to say. But the words didn’t come out. Because even if it wasn’t such a good idea, he still wanted UrGoh to touch him. He still wanted to touch UrGoh. “I know I haven’t done this before,” said UrGoh, “but I’ll be careful. I won’t hurt you.” “I’m never worried about you hurting me,” SkekGra said. UrGoh reached out and lifted SkekGra’s left hand from the warm water with his right hands. And, as it always had before, with UrGoh’s other touches, the bond changed. The longing didn’t go away. SkekGra was almost sure that it wouldn’t, as long as he and UrGoh were separate. If anything, that longing might be even more acute, now that they were touching skin-to-skin. But it felt like—it felt like a longing for something attainable, something within their reach, within their powers. When they weren’t touching, there was an element of strangeness to the bond that seemed to indicate the underlying truth of their connection—that no one had ever been meant to feel this way. When they touched, the pull SkekGra felt between them seemed as natural as breathing. Though the tension was undiminished, when touch was added to the bond, he found himself worried less about GraGoh and what it would be like to be GraGoh, feeling only that he was more connected with UrGoh, and believed he could be more connected with UrGoh, and that was a good thing. Very, very good. And did UrGoh also feel this, as he gently manipulated SkekGra’s hand, searching for the best angle for what he wanted to do? Would it show in his face? Did SkekGra’s own face show something of what he was feeling? It seemed wrong for UrGoh to not know what SkekGra was feeling now, it was too big, maybe something big enough that it would affect UrGoh’s decisions to touch him at all.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

#20yrsago Leveraging RSS at Disney ETCON talk https://craphound.com/rssetcon04.txt

#20yrsago Tim O’Reilly’s Emerging Technology keynote https://craphound.com/timetcon04.txt

#15yrsago Trough of No Value: the period when objects aren’t new and aren’t collectible https://theonlinephotographer.typepad.com/the_online_photographer/2009/02/the-trough-of-no-value.html

#15yrsago Making a toaster from scratch, mining the raw materials https://web.archive.org/web/20090212194252/https://www.we-make-money-not-art.com/archives/2009/02/-thomas-thwaites-the-toaster.php

#10yrsago NYT vs wget: technologically illiterate Snowden coverage https://www.techdirt.com/2014/02/10/new-york-times-uses-scare-quotes-to-highlight-how-they-dont-understand-how-snowden-copied-documents/

#5yrsago Vast majority of Americans and Europeans believe ad-targeting and feed customization are immoral https://www.forbes.com/sites/johnkoetsier/2019/02/09/83-of-consumers-believe-personalized-ads-are-morally-wrong-survey-says/?sh=5d08570819f5

#5yrsago Trump’s properties routinely employed (and abused) undocumented Latino workers, including dozens from a single Costa Rican town https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/my-whole-town-practically-lived-there-from-costa-rica-to-new-jersey-a-pipeline-of-illegal-workers-for-trump-goes-back-years/2019/02/08/8cdbc1dc-2971-11e9-97b3-ae59fbae7960_story.html

#1yrago Poor people pay higher time tax https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/10/my-time/#like-water-down-the-drain

[dollarbin]

Shakey Sundays #35:

Hitchhiker (plus A Snapshot in Time)

Six months is a century in Shakeytown.

These days Neil will summon the Stop Shopping Choir for a whistle stop tour, release 4-5 new Archive records, reroute 6 barns worth of toy trains, publish a Greenville zine or two, respond to 4,672 fan emails on his forever Beta-version website, each in 7 words or less and each response featuring the words "peace," "love" and "Al Gore", write 36 new songs, all of them with the working title Love Earth (Or Else), and publish yet another memoir, this one dedicated to his penchant for hip hop, all in a six month window.

Case in point: Archives 3 is about ten minutes old and he's already promoting a forthcoming and utterly unrelated live record from his first tour with Cranky, Silly, and Gnash. Apparently Joni was at the show, gnashing her own teeth in anguish while Graham "Honey Baked" Hash debuted Our House; by the end of the show Mitchell surely instructed Grahamcracker to retitle his song My House (Cuz Joni Just Slipped Out The Back, Jack). Nash, apparently, refused to make the change.

All of Neil's productivity is cool; it's a great time to be a Shakey fan. But these days he lives beside a Colorado lake with Daryl, her dogs, 64 of his cars and the grinning ghosts of David Briggs and Ben Keith; 48 years ago he lived utterly alone in a psychedelic tepee of his very own design.

After all, just try and get your mind around all he accomplished between August 76 and March 77:

He got high as a kite and recorded the primary subject of this week's post in a single night.

He wrote an entirely different record (this week's secondary subject) and taught it to Nicolette Larson and Linda Ronstadt in one sitting.

He recorded 1/2 of that second album with a full band, eventually releasing it as the Side A of American Stars and Bars.

He wrote the highlight of that album - Will To Love, which is arguably the single greatest song of his entire career - and then spent another single night in the studio layering up instruments for it in front of his signature crackling fire - and he has not played the track again a single time since in any setting of any kind, ever. Guess he's had too much else to do.

He released a mixed-at-best record he'd made in the previous six months with Stephen Stills and Joe Freakin' Lala.

He began a full tour with those dopes, playing a month's worth of shows before making new plans Stan and telling them in writing to eat a peach and finish up without him.

He played a full US tour with Crazy Horse instead.

He performed at The Last Waltz.

He found the time to do a lot of cocaine, which is apparently obvious in Scorsese's footage. I've never been able to see the rock in question, however. My working knowledge of Belushidust is clearly negligible.

He continued to write songs about his recent breakup with Carrie Snodgress while starting to romance both the aforementioned Larson and his future beleaguered wife, Pegi. (Plus he surely probably slept with countless other women in this period; Neil was quoted at the time as "really enjoying the bachelor life," which sounds even sleazier than the reality television show of that moniker, which, by the way, should totally feature Neil in its next Golden iteration; after all, he's already demonstrated that he is perfectly willing to ditch his current wife so as to play the field.) Okay, that was just mean. Sorry Neil!

And, right around the moment those six months were up, Young joined yet another band - The Ducks - which was entirely unrelated to all the other bands listed above, and began the process of learning 20+ of their songs.

Plus he chewed a whole lot of Bubblicous and guzzled a whole lot of Natty Light throughout it all.

Yeah, he did all that - except #12: fooled you there! Both delectable items were introduced in the following six months, during which time Young, you guessed it, recorded yet another album of unrelated songs with entirely new musicians.

So, I gotta ask: what the hell did you accomplish between the late summer of 76 and the Spring of 77? I'll bet you can't compete with me or Neil. After all, I crapped my diaper, repeatedly. My mother reports that I "looked just like a frog." I'll bet your lazy ass wasn't even born yet.

Anyway, I stand before you on this very Shakey Sunday prepared to argue that the greatest thing Neil did in that incredibly crammed six months, except for Will To Love, is Hitchiker, the done-in-a-single-altered-night acoustic record which he waited a mere 40 years to release rather than waiting the full 48 so as to include it on Archives 3.

Let's drop the needle already and talk about Hitchhiker's shimmering greatness.

First of all, the whole thing is a poetic work of art. I'm serious. Pocahontas and Powderfinger set the table: both are dreamscape anthems, chock full of heartbreak, guns and waterfowl. And Campaigner may well be Neil's lyrical high-water mark. When roads stretch out like healthy veins and wild gift horses strain the rains I kinda freak out.

Note the previously edited out second verse featured on Hitchhiker: you know a song is lyrically exceptional when a line like "traffic cops are all color blind and people steal from their own kind" submits to the editor's ax.

Plus, beauty has rarely been draped in such stark and hopeless wonder. Indeed, the only record I can think of with a tone to match Hitchhiker is Pink Moon - and what higher praise can you think of than comparing anything to Nick Drake's unadorned-by-anything-or-anyone-else Pink Moon? Neil and Nick had both had it, at least for the moment, with arranging records. So instead they just took the Plastic Ono Band approach and upped Lennon's ante by laying all the songs down in a single take, every last bit of their armor set aside so as to reveal their very souls.

Just compare Give Me Strength and Which Will. Hear two men who could not have been more fundamentally different both asking the kind of fundamental and elemental questions which males are still instructed to avoid out of false courage and idiocy.

Yeah, I know: Neil's song coulda' used one more take as he loses track of the chord structure and melody altogether for parts of the closing. But I still say my comparison is apt even if Shakey and Drake couldn't be further apart on the sobriety and perfectionist spectrums.

Hitchhiker's tone could not be more different than its newly surfaced companion, the here, let-me-show-you-how-our-record-is-gonna-sound session Neil concocted for Linda and Nicolette six months later and which Neil has titled A Snapshot In Time for Archives 3. Snapshot replaces the earlier record's stark and trembling poetics with a big dose of what Ronstadt instantly recognizes on tape as "obnoxiousness."

On the one hand you have the songs Linda was directly referring to: check out, if you can get your hands on it (Neil seems to be clutching many of the tracks from Archives 3 in his self-appointed greedy hands rather than posting them for free on the internet) Young posing as a randy, grinning and stumbling creeper in Saddle Up the Palomino.

Here's the eventual band track.

Neil's mood had clearly shifted a great deal in the intervening six months. Lines like, "it's a cold bowl of chili when life lets you down but to it's the neighbor's wife I'm after" would have had no place whatsoever on Hitchhiker. Nor would the song's attempt at an arena rock riff.

On the other hand, even Snapshot's non-boneheaded songs are a bit obnoxious. Imagine inviting Linda Ronstadt over and then asking her to sing along with lyrics like "hey babe, say your mine all mine" over and over again. She'll do it - if you're Neil Young. But don't fool yourself; she'd rather have been taught Give Me Stength.

Look: I love every moment of A Snapshot in Time, not to mention the first half of the classic record it spawned. But it sure ain't high art.

Hitchhiker though? It'd take me a solid six months just to shout all its transcendent praises.

[lostcauses-noregrets]

I've seen some comments (haters) saying that Levi felt betrayed by Erwin when he found out about his dream but I feel like they use it as if it means some kind of proof against Eruri and I don't understand them. Have you written anything about it?

Uhh…I honestly can’t remember if I’ve answered anything about this specific point or not.  I’m pretty sure I’ve touched on it response to other asks but I’m struggling to dig anything out of the archive.  

This information comes from the Character Encyclopedia or Character Guide and I’ve copied the relevant pages below so you can read the official translation of what Isayama said. (Apologies for the shitty caps.)  There’s no question that Levi does feel shocked and “almost betrayed” when he discovers that far from being the lofty, selfless individual who has devoted himself unfaiilingly to the altruistic goal of saving humanity, Erwin is as human and fallible as the rest of humanity. The whole point of this revelation is that despite discovering that Erwin is just a man, with all the frailties and fallibilities of other men, Levi still chooses to follow him.  It’s the realisation that Erwin struggles with the burden of following his duty and his dream that leads Levi to make the choice on his behalf and, ultimately, to let him rest in peace.  

There’s a lovely quote about Erwin’s humanity that comes from Ono Daisuke and Kamiya Hiroshi’s Dear Girl: Stories radio series where they discussed  Midnight Sun. 

O: “However, in coming back to being a human, it was when he talked to Levi, probably” (K: *assents*) “Well, all this time, probably, Levi was the last fortress, I think, that he can be as human.”

@tsuki-no-ura has translated this interview here if you want to read it. 

So, far from disproving the importance of Erwin and Levi’s relationship, I think the fact that Levi continues to follow Erwin to the bitter end and beyond, even after realising that he was just a man chasing an innocent childlike dream, only highlights the depth of his devotion.

[chocolatepot]

I was going thru all of the fics of yours that I have bookmarked, and I'd forgotten about this gem: Parched - so, director's commentary?

Oooh, okay!

The thing about this fic is that while the note at the end is true (that it was inspired by wondering about what Mary had told Doug about Stede), it was also something of an experiment for me. See, I'm just not that into Mary! In the flashbacks to their marriage, I tend to think neither of them comes off that well. There's a running joke that everyone in the fandom is on her side when she tries to kill Stede, no matter how much they like him, but I'm not, actually! So I wanted to try to get into her head by writing a fic from her perspective.

Dearest Mary,

I started by quoting Stede's letter to Mary because that felt like the right place to pick up. I was exploring how she grew and changed, so I wanted to start at their divergence.

The sun comes in at an angle on the letter like a knife, highlighting the words “fond regards.”

Something else experimental for me with this fic was that I was attempting to write in a slightly more literary(?) style. I do focus on my prose when I write, I'll sometimes try a sentence multiple ways or put one together so slowly that it's like chipping marble, but that's a refinement of what I instinctively want to express - I don't instinctively tend to write figuratively, or describe things that aren't either a) absolutely necessary or b) fun for me to describe. So: a sharp metaphor to start with.

“Did Dad go out to ride on Arthur? I want to take my new kite out with him today.”

I also don't subscribe to the idea that Stede was a fully absent father, so put in that line to show him as an active presence in the kids' lives.

This all makes me sound super petty but I did indeed set out to write A Good Fic first and foremost! As ever when I'm challenging myself. I just cannot help but write in my interpretation of controversial things.

Louis is young enough that he doesn’t realize how bizarre and fucked up it all is, accepting it as just one of those strange things adults do and going back to his toast; Alma, however, is thinking about it with a furrowed brow.

And part of the reason Alma responds as she does is that she's surprised and upset because it never occurred to her that her father might pick up sticks and disappear. (If I were writing the fic now, I think I'd have dwelt more on the kids' reactions, or lack thereof in Louis's case. At the time, my focus was on how their reactions affected Mary.)

But this time her eye is caught by a different line: You deserve happiness, as do I.

Here, the tone shifts. I am SO anxious about people thinking I'm too nice to Stede on the whole, and was/am particularly so at this point, lol. That being said, assuming Doug wasn't putting an incredibly positive spin on things (possible), Mary was able to say some neutral-to-positive things about Stede. So she must have come around on him, his leaving, and his part in their marriage, when she thought that it was all a closed book. (And then when he came back he just ripped open the scab!)

She can complain about Stede at length, if she feels like it, but to his credit, he’s never seemed to actively dislike her. What he accepts is that she dislikes him.

This whole bit was also me digging in and almost stream-of-consciousness-ing from Mary's perspective about what we saw of Stede in their marriage in the flashbacks. Analyzing. Working my fingers into the dough.

Nobody likes every person they’re thrust into society with, but that’s just how life is! You smile and make small talk and get them to tolerate you, and sometimes you end up making friends – but he just couldn’t seem to do that, like he wasn’t even trying.

I admit that I was also experimenting with the perspective of a neurotypical person not getting why an autistic person can't just be normal.

The next day, Mary puts on a black gown she rarely wears, plus a hat with a veil, and visits the local magistrate.

She successfully got him declared dead, after all!

The second it’s done, Mrs. Higgins pushes off the wall and comes to Mary’s side, putting her hand on her shoulder. “Okay, Melvin,” she says breezily in a husky tone that fits her perfectly. “I’m going to take the Widow Bonnet for a cup of tea.”

Well, I ship them.

“This story about your husband being lost at sea – it’s bullshit, right? Did you take him out?” She puts a hand on Mary’s forearm, and it feels alarmingly sympathetic. “What did he do – did he hit you? Do you need help getting rid of the body?”

I have absolutely no doubt that it went down like this. Evelyn's comfort level with the idea of murdering a husband implies that she's been ready and willing to aid and abet a woman who's had to kill before. (And I think she tends to see situations through this lens even when it doesn't fit as a result.)

“Relax,” Mrs. Higgins orders, and Mary can’t help but comply

👀👀👀

“Your … rifles?” asks Mary, stunned, and Jemima takes them all on a tour of her house to see the armory, which is packed so heavily with guns of all sizes and types that you can’t even make out what sort of wallpaper is behind them. There’s even a cannon, positioned so that it could theoretically fire out a window.

I don't entirely remember my thought process here - a melange of needing to make up more widows to be part of the circle and "what would be funny?" and the image of a 17th-18th century armory. Jemima's maiden name, Courten, came from the History of Barbados wiki page, and her last name came from my fierce third grade teacher. (Jemima? I have no idea.)

“I have a tenant who’s a painter!” says another, turning from a display of guns inlaid with mother-of-pearl. “He’s always looking for students – if you come to mine, I can introduce you.”

Fate!!!

Their first meeting is inauspicious, but not to such an extent that it loops back around into a meet-cute.

This was deliberate. Mary and Stede are such opposites that I wanted her romance with Doug not to be a sudden soulmate thing like Ed/Stede basically are - their meeting isn't the stuff of stories, they don't have an intense, immediate chemistry. It's still love.

His fingers are still hovering over the canvas, moving here and there to point out what he’s taken with, and for a moment Mary can hardly breathe.

This was intentionally a bit erotic on top of the sexiness of Doug caring so much about her art (and also - Doug is the biggest sweetie, he sees the good even in a piece with a lot of problems).

There is just so much emotion in her, and nowhere else for it to go. For a fleeting moment, she thinks of Stede and the times she found him weeping alone.

Tying this all back into one of the main things, which was Mary coming around on Stede to some extent.

Nobody has ever looked at her like that, like she is a delicate and beautiful person to be treasured.

This is picking up on a thread I established in More Nicer, that the flipside of Stede having been forced into a marriage with a woman when he's not attracted to women is that Mary was forced into a marriage where she was never, ever found attractive. Feeling that someone she likes is actually interested in her would be huge.

one night when he stays for dinner and then helps her wash the dishes after the kids have gone to bed.

I am COMMITTED! to interpreting OFMD as depicting their household as a modern marriage with a period veneer. They don't have servants and Stede isn't a powerful 18th century patriarch.

The moon is huge. If she were to paint it this big, nobody would ever believe it.

Mary gets her "you wear fine things well" moment under the impossibly large moon - maybe at the same time as Stede and Ed's! Only hers can be straightforwardly understood as a moment of love by all participants.

That she is, in fact, too harsh and practical to be loved is a possibility that has haunted her for years.

Again, that thread from More Nicer.

But when she looks into his eyes again, he’s still just confused. Then he flushes and looks down. “Sorry,” he says, “I just – it’s hard for me to believe that he could bring himself to leave you.”

He's a keeper.

A very sudden thought hits her like a thunderbolt: Stede was right. Their lives had been monotonous and had needed to be shaken up, changed beyond recognition.

And that's the point that the fic's been leading up to - Mary becoming okay with Stede. I don't think this makes him right about everything, but I do think he had a point there and that part of the reason she got so upset when he suggested that their lives were monotonous was that she knew it on some level.

She still wishes that he had told her he was leaving rather than simply doing it, but what if he had? Would she have raged at him, guilted him into staying so that they would both continue to be unhappy?

Surprising no one, I have A Take about the idea that Stede was objectively wrong on the way he left. Could it have gone well if he'd been more up-front about it? Maybe. Could it have also gone a lot worse? I think so.

Now that she has a tantalizing glimpse of the happiness that may lie in store for her, she can fully close that door – she can end that desperate, stunted life and begin a new one.

And there we are.

anyone who's interested, feel free to ask for another!

[its-moopoint]

Note to ‘shippers’🤡…..no matter how many times you draw red lines, use highlighter pens, quote philosophers, poets etc adnauseum, reblog a reblog archive that has more holes in it than Swiss cheese! requote the friends Doctors hairdressers mothers signed confession of what they made up as the whole truth and nothing but the truth you will never find your ‘golden haloed boy’ (he who can do no wrong!!) on the most important and real documents including MC, business links, property titles, a certain birth certificate … to name a few. They certainly trump all your waxing lyrical subterfuge and also cross referenced (or should that be cross-eyed) attached diagrams, sand scrolls, parchments etc etc etc… see anyone can do adnauseum.

Now where have my highlighters disappeared too😜😁👻

Anon, I love you!!

[maxverstepponme]

STEPPY!!!!!!! not to bring charlotte up AGAIN but i HAVE to say this because at this point it is getting ridiculous. it’s starting to literally give kelly behavior, maybe worse because at least max and kelly are (unfortunately) still dating. i saw on shelby’s blog how charlotte “went a little crazy and added pics of charles to her highlights and unarchived pics with him” so naturally. i went to check.

and, she did EXTREMELY drastically re-organize her highlights, i know how it was before because i still follow her and i was stalking her highlights not that long ago (don’t judge i know i’m nosy - i was sick in bed so i didn’t have much to do anyway). this is all ON PURPOSE, not coincidence, based on how extreme the re-organization was.

in the first one alone, the outfit one, there is fully just a repost of her hugging charles as she went to maranello, then in matching shoes w/ the caption “matching couple”, the “iconic” (😒) ferrari belt, etc. you can also see him standing next to her in several of them but you can’t see his face or him that much so i’m not really including that.

in the piano one, she included one of CHARLES playing the piano with the caption “love listening to him”, as well as one of her playing and him spinning around dancing in the back… she had a piano highlight the whole time before but it was just her, none of charles.

didn’t feel like going much into her other highlights after that but you get the gist. mind you NONE of that was there before. 😵‍💫

as for the un-archiving posts with charles, cant be certain because i am not THAT nosy to have her whole feed memorized, but there are some that i don’t THINK was there before. i believe she archived these when she did her little spree. granted she only really archived ones from 2022 that he was in the front photo of at least, and then i guess was bored or busy to do the rest, so that’s what i’m focusing on, i cant say anything about 2021 and 2020 photos because i recall a lot of them didn’t get archived anyway. moving on. there’s a group photo he’s in with his friends and her on the beach, a pic facing his back on his boat, and the two of them at nahimas fashion show. again cant be certain so don’t quote me, but i’m PRETTY sure these weren’t there.

girl. MOVE ON. i don’t wanna talk about you anymore since you’re not a wag but you’re acting insane now 😵‍💫 this with her sister stalking alex fan pages and choosing to reply out of all people to literal alex hate pages on her story… it’s been a whole year and a half!!!

She added more of Charles on her outfits highlight which is unnecessary because the fits are 💀

[kuwdora]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

Gasoline streaming on AO3 - with all the requisite content notes/tags. Gasoline - Halsey lyrics Complete vid archive on dreamwidth (with notes/lyrics/download links) @kuwdoravids | YouTube | AO3 Dreamwidth is most comprehensive vid list, followed by YouTube. Vid archive on AO3 and Tumblr are a WIP. I've been making fanvids for 15 years (over 200 vids, I think) and this Yennefer vid is in my top 5 favorite vids that I've made. The brainwave I had when I realized this song is about Yennefer...oh my god I felt this with my soul. With this song I was able to embrace the musicality of the instrumentals and combine the vibes with the themes of Yennefer's arc. The lyrics are perfect for her struggles. What I'm most proud of in this vid (other than everything) are the transitions and the internal movement. Every clip/transition works with every part of the song- lyrics, the subtle beats in the background. The flow of this vid looks and feels so natural but almost everything was done with purpose and intent. I've made a bunch of gifs to highlight 80% of the transitions so I can talk about the narrative symbolism or the visual motifs. I think the gifs lose something without the music but gifs are the medium here on tumblr, but feel free to stream the video above. Download link can be found on AO3.

Commentary length: ~1400 words The whole vid is framed to be an introspective Yen who is sitting on the beach, thinking through the events of her life, looking back at where she's been. Early on in the vid, I've framed that literally:

0:29 - 0:31 (instrumental) Yen visiting Aretuza in late season 1, reflecting and thinking of her own past as well as speaking the current students who arrive at 0:32. It's going to be about what she had wished she had known when she was that age.

0:41 - 0:46

Are you insane like me? Been in pain like me? Bought a hundred dollar bottle of champagne like me? Just to pour that motherfucker down the drain like me? Would you use your water bill to dry the stain like me?

Champagne being the metaphorical stand-in for power and/or time. She's wasting away in Aedirn's court, babysitting the queen and her infant, doing fuck all and feeling adrift and bitter. The whole 'water bill' and 'dry the stain' is also an additional metaphor for everything she's experienced in Aretuza. That exchange of power for her fellow adepts who got turned into the power source for the school. Another thing I want to note: the internal movement and body language. Yen reclines in her seat (moving left), annoyed and bored. Turns the hour glass counter clockwise (left). And she walks backwards (right to left) in the following clip. The flow of this sequence makes me so fucking happy. But what's also amazing about this whole sequence is that in almost every clip Yen's gaze is cast downward or is level. Anya is an amazing actress. I love the juxtaposition of Yen's bored/annoyed/condescending expressions and body language with student Yen. As a student, she's so meek and her expressions and emotional (as well as physical) poise is just so different in the scenes. I love playing with this different power dynamic here because of how she's reflecting on her past in the vid's narrative.

1:05-1:12

And all the people say

I love the transition of Yen fading into the fire, and Tissaia appearing in the fire. (This kind of transition is called a cross dissolve). Fire's an important recurring visual because of her transformation and Sodden Hill, and Yen eventually unleashing all of her power. I'm all about the juxtapositions, parallels and painful emotional beats in my vids. This lyric is the prelude for the in-song quote of someone telling the person about the rules of the world. Yen's relationship with Tissaia is fascinating and complex and I have rewatched her scene with Tissaia in Rinde 10 million times now. I fucking love it, it's so painful. In season 1 of the show, there's such a disconnect between Yen and Tissaia and it was important for me to try and factor in Yen's bitterness and resentment at Tissaia as her teacher, and as the person who literally brought into this world.

1:27 - 1:30

"You can't wake up, this is not a dream You're part of a machine, you are not a human being With your face all made up, living on a screen Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline" oh, oh-oh, oohh

The first chorus is showing Yen finally having adversity with the assassin coming after the queen and her child, set against Yen being a young student who hasn't come into her power yet. My favorite part of this chorus is the final line 'so you run on gasoline' because!! I literally got to show Yen using her power in a snowy winter setting!! And set it against Yen's fiery painful transformation! AND LOOK HOW THE SNOW SPRAYS AND CURVES AROUND YEN'S HEAD IN THE TRANSITION. This is why I make vids. This hits all of my creative buttons SO MUCH OKAY. And when combined with the music it is FLOWING and flowing and I feel like a goddess with my timeline and visuals and beats and positioning the lightning to flicker on the beats. Everything. I love it so much. I made this vid in 3 days, but I've been vidding for 15 years. So really this is just like culmination of all my experiments and trial and error of learning what looks and feels right in my ears, heart and brain. I was one with this vid in those 3 days.

1:32 - 1:36

Oh, oh, oh, oh I think there's a flaw in my code

This is the sequence I probably spent the longest trying to visually line up. Visually it's playing with the Chaos the assassin's using to throw the weapon at the queen, and the uncontrolled lightening bolt that takes student Yen down. But on a deeper level it's playing upon Yen's emotional/physical/magical frustrations in the scenes. The lyrical associations I'm making here with 'flaw in my code' is vague. Probably too vague, but your associations can definitely vary! viewer interpretation and all! But it's primarily implied about a woman's power. And position in society. Focused on the fact that the Aedirnian King decided to get rid of his wife and daughter so he could get a son and heir instead. Women as disposable or to be used and pushed around. Like the way Tissaia's magical instruction with the lightening harms her students. Visual parallels go smooooothly, flow, and strike on beats!

1:43 - 1:47

Well my heart is gold, and my hands are cold

More contrasts. The infant death and Yen's rebirth (but also her death of who she used to be before her transformation...) That scene on the beach with the child was a turning point for Yen, so it's fitting that it happens in almost the exact middle of the vid. Yen tried her best to safe the queen and her child, didn't work. 😭 and okay I love the lighting of Yen bathed in golden light. She has all this power...and for what? She couldn't even save the queen and her child. 😭 I just love this transition/fade so much here.

1:50 - 1:53 / 1:56 - 1:59 (instrumental)

Symbolism!! Yen gets caught up in the djinn wish, so she's caught in Geralt's net. The fishing net is visually similar to the window design in the hallway that Geralt and Jaskier walk through. That window is also exactly centered over Yen in the middle of her orgy scene. And it also is visually similar to the design of her dress.

Flow, deliberate pacing. Visual symbolism and repeated motifs. I love making vids like this. This is my most favorite of my favorite moments in this vid.

2:26 - 2:28

"You can't wake up, this is not a dream You're part of a machine, you are not a human being."

The first time these lyrics appeared, it was prefaced by Tissaia. This time it's Geralt. 100% deliberate to use a shot of the villain's military with Geralt to emphasize the villain angle. That antagonism Yen feels by being told what she can and cannot do. Also I just love swoopy Geralt's hair and the swoopy military flag, okay. But it's also just the encroaching Nilfgaard because it's all going to end in Sodden, so I am just dropping these clips in to set everything up as foreshadow. And with Yen--her body arched in her position of power as she tries to capture the djinn? She is power, she is a weapon. And she coincidentally held the shape of an arrow's fletching.

2:37 - 2:43

With your face all made up, living on a screen Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline"

The climax of Yen learning about the djinn wish and unleashing EVERYTHING at Sodden. This is the other sequence that I spent the most time getting the timing right with the instrumentals beneath the lyrics, and making sure the overlays of each of the clips faded out in a way that made sense as they flowed into the next. I love, love love this sequence all the way through to 2:48. Yen learning about the wish, being bonded to Geralt. That lack of power and control with him, and the power and control she unleashes at Sodden....ahhhh.

2:44 - 2:48

I think there's a flaw in my code

The 'flaw in my code' here is very much Yen's feelings about the djinn and her autonomy being affected again by something that she cannot control. The emotional fury. Her power at Sodden. It's so cathartic.

2:52 - 2:54

These voices won't leave me alone.

Tissaia and Geralt have had such an impact on Yen. 😭 I just -- fucking lost my mind at how perfectly Geralt and Tissaia's expressions work together here. Because they both occur after Yen has completely let go. With Geralt it's emotionally severing herself from him. With Tissaia, it's finally showing her all of the Chaos that she's never really got to use before... and just fucking decimating Nilfgaard. ITS SO MUCH. Everything is so much. Their faces. I love their devastated faces. So much. I love Yen. I love this vid. I loved making this vid. I love vibing with music in such a way that I can create a flowing narrative full of pain and catharsis. I am so, so fucking proud of this vid and it is definitely one of my most favorite vids I've made. Thank you for reading/watching.

Gasoline streaming on AO3 - with all the requisite content notes/tags.

My complete vid archive on dreamwidth (with notes/lyrics/download links)

@kuwdoravids (archive is a work in progress)

YouTube (archive 95% of vids, some missing due to content/copyright)

AO3 (archive is a work in progress)

[archduchessofnowhere]

Remember how the other day I got an ask about Charlotte of Belgium and Franz Josef's relationship that I didn't answer? And another in which I said that I already had too many books to translate? Well that was because I was in the process of getting this!

This is biography was to Charlotte what Corti's biography was to Elisabeth. Written by Countess Helene de Reinach Foussemagne with the support of the Countess of Flanders, King Albert I of the Belgian's mother, this biography was the first one to use primary sources from Belgium, since King Albert gave the author access to the family archives; she also interviewed people that had met Charlotte. It was published in 1925, while the former empress of Mexico was still alive. This also makes it the oldest book that I own!

The biggest highlight of this book is that it has dozens of Charlotte's letters, as well as letters of people close to her, like her grandmother Queen Marie Amelie and of course her husband Maximilian (as pictured above).

It also got over a hundred pictures! Tho because I'm annoying I will point out that there is a mistake in the picture of the imperial family, since Archduchess Maria Annunziata (Archduke Karl Ludwig's second wife) is misidentified as Archduchess Margaretha (Karl Ludwig's first wife).

The biography is probably outdated given the time that it has passed since its publication, also because it was written with the help and support of the Belgium royal family I suspect that it likely has a positive bias not only towards Charlotte but to her whole family (I will report later on how correct my suspicion was). Still, just for the amount of quoted letters alone this is worth buying. And the seller even made me a discount, how cool is that?

[whumpinaheartbeat]

Appendix's Are Useless, Sisters Are Not

This original fic contains graphic illness, vomiting and medical procedures with a teenage character, please read with discretion.

When Annabelle nudged Bobby’s ribs with a laugh, he stopped right there on the footpath. 

She twisted to face him, ready for him to either tell another joke or even tackle her playfully for nudging him like that but Bobby did nothing. He just stood there, staring. It was kind of unnerving, her brother being so still. Bobby was always a whirlwind of movement and jokes and yet here he was, just standing there and doing… Well, nothing.

“Bobby?” Annabelle prompted. “You good?”

Green eyes snapped to her. 

“I’m fine.” 

It was Annabelle’s turn to stare. Bobby blinked, his whole body twitching for a second before he forced a smile and tried again, his voice a lot quieter this time.

“I’m okay, really.”

Annabelle found herself analysing his every feature all the same, trying to pinpoint what could have made him go from joking to oddly still so quickly. The fact that Bobby hadn’t continued on walking yet only confused her more, as did his frequent blinks that almost looked like they were winces.

“You’re pale.” Annabelle said. “Have you been sleeping enough?”

Bobby nodded mutely. He swallowed again. Then he took a step to the side, nearly tripping over his own feet, and braced himself against the concrete wall.

Annabelle rushed to his side, her heart catching in her chest. Bobby was breathing quickly, his face so pale that she was able to count every single freckle. She hovered there for a long moment, not knowing what to do, realising that this wasn’t just one of his panic attacks. Something else was going on here and whatever it was, it terrified her.

“Bobby, what’s wrong?” She asked tightly. “Are you sick? Do you want to go home?”

He was shaking his head now, mouth a firm grimace. The colour was now fully drained from his face and a bead of sweat rolling down his cheek. With one arm holding himself upright on the wall, the other snaked down to his abdomen. 

It was a miracle that Bobby hadn’t yet collapsed outright but given just how badly his legs were trembling, she didn’t know how much longer that would last.

“Here,” Annabelle said, holding the crook of his elbow. “Sit down.”

Guiding him to the ground, Annabelle forced herself to take a deep breath and ran through the mental checklist from her first aid training all those years ago only to find that she didn’t remember any of it. Panic seized her all over again and she was devastated that while she could quote the entire Bee Movie off by heart, she had no idea what any of those damn acronyms meant.

Bobby would probably be the first to laugh at her, he had always been better at memorising stuff with that big brain of his, but seeing as he was shaking outright now, Annabelle figured that now wasn’t the time to start rambling on about aerodynamics.

“Where does it hurt?” She asked. “Your stomach? Is it food poisoning? You said you ate earlier, right?”

“It’s fine.” Bobby whispered. He hissed, hands curling into fists. “You need to get back to work.”

As much as Annabelle’s heart was racing, she knew that right now she had to push aside all of that to give Bobby all of the love and support he needed, her little brother had always struggled to be so vulnerable about illnesses and injuries so the fact that he was unable to mask his discomfort now only highlighted how bad he must be feeling.

“Bobby.” Annabelle said. “I need to know what’s going on.”

He really was looking pale. Had his eyes been so glassy earlier? Maybe she should reach out and see if he has a fever.

Bobby lurched forward and Annabelle moved out of the way just quickly enough for him to throw up. She knelt down next to him, rubbing big circles into his back as he choked back another gag.

“I’m…” Bobby swallowed roughly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” She said. 

His whole body shuddered as another wave crashed over him and even though he tried to fight it, he vomited again anyway. Bobby wrapped his arms tightly around himself, giving off a whine as tears streamed down his face.

Another painful lurch overtook him but all he had left was bile which if anything was even worse, that horrid sound making Annabelle herself feel a little lightheaded.

“I’m sorry.” Bobby sobbed.

“Don’t apologise,” She said gently. “You’re just sick, it’s okay.”

After one final lurch, Bobby seemed to finally be finished. He lent his back into the wall, tilting his head back a little as shivers rocked through him.

There was movement in the corner of Annabelle’s eye and when she turned she found a stranger holding out a bottle of water. The woman was older than the both of them but she still gave a warm smile, notably avoiding looking at Bobby’s sick.

“Thank you.” Annabelle said, taking the bottle. “Here Bobby, little sips.”

Bobby shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut. His arm wrapped ever more tightly around his abdomen, his breath hitching and new tears mixed with the old.

“Is he okay?” The kind woman asked.

“Probably just food poisoning.” Annabelle said as calmly as she could. “My brother isn’t exactly known for following food safety rules.”

She expected Bobby to rebuke or maybe even agree with her but he said nothing. Annabelle reached out, carding her fingers through his sweaty hair to get it away from his face. She narrowed her eyes, her hand stilling on his forehead.

“Bobby,” She said carefully. “How long have you had a fever?”

Bobby just moaned, curling into himself. His whole body suddenly jolted and his eyes flung open and when he threw up again. Annabelle stayed by his side the whole time but the moment she saw red mixed in with the sick, she looked up at the woman desperately.

The stranger was already on her phone, her mouth a firm line as she waited for a response.

Annabelle turned her focus back onto her brother, carding through his hair.

“I’m right here,” Annabelle promised as Bobby lurched again. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Even when there was nothing left to throw up, Bobby was still bringing up bile and each gag seemed ever more painful. Amongst the bile was even more red than earlier and as much as Annabelle wanted to convince herself it was anything else, the tang of iron confirmed it.

Bobby was throwing up blood.

At last his body seemed to realise it was playing a losing game and Bobby slouched, his energy spent but if anything Annabelle just became more worried.

The woman held the phone away from her ear.

“An ambulance is on it’s way.” She said. “What’s his name?”

“Bobby.” Annabelle said. “Bobby Lovett, he’s sixteen. I’m Annabelle.”

“Nicole.” The woman offered a weak smile. She went back to her phone, relaying the information.

Bobby gave off a pathetic sound, his eyes fluttering. 

“Bobby?” Annabelle prompted.

Her brother looked up at her then, silent tears streaming down his face and Annabelle’s heart tore in two. She reached up, slowly, brushing them away.

She had been so excited to catch up with him today on her lunch break that she had not even questioned him thoroughly when he claimed that he wasn’t hungry, so fixated on telling him all about her latest project. But now that she thought about it, she didn’t remember seeing him at breakfast either and she had been so late returning home last night that she had no idea if he had managed to keep down dinner.

Had he been nauseous all day? Had he simply been hiding that he was sick, not wanting to draw attention to himself? As much as she hated it, it wasn’t all that uncommon for Bobby to hide whenever he had a cold, he never did like bringing attention to himself if he wasn’t feeling well. But this wasn’t some cold, this was serious. And Annabelle hadn’t even noticed until he was in a terrible cycle of vomiting and shuddering.

She hadn’t even noticed until he was literally throwing up blood.

“Anna…”

“I’m right here.” Annabelle promised. 

“Anna, something’s wrong…”

“I know, I know.” Annabelle hushed, running her fingers through his hair. “Help is coming. You’re going to be okay.”

As if in proof of her words, sirens echoed against the buildings around them.

“Hear that?” Annabelle asked. “They’re going to help you, okay? You’re going to be just fine, okay?”

When had her own voice started shaking? She had no right to cry, not when it was Bobby that was suffering right now. She needed to be strong for him. Annabelle steeled herself before taking one of his hands into her own and squeezing it tightly. She couldn’t coax the other hand away from his stomach so she just left it there.

“Mum’s going to kill me.” Bobby mumbled, a shudder passing through him.

“Bobby,” Annabelle said patiently. “Mum would never be angry at you for getting sick.”

Annabelle’s heart hurt that he would even think that. But she knew what Bobby had been through growing up. Just because he now was safe in her family now didn’t mean that his past was so easy to forget.

While Annabelle would be the first to admit that Bobby’s fostering and subsequent adoption hadn’t been the most easy of transitions, she could no longer imagine looking at the teenage boy as anything but a Brother.

“Nah, I know.” He said. “I meant about ruining the shirt she got me.”

She glanced down at his shirt, now covered in sick and bile and sweat. She forced a laugh.

“Yeah,” She said. “So much for your birthday present. I can see it now, Christmas day and all she gets you are ugly Christmas sweaters because you stuffed one shirt.”

Bobby’s lip twitched into a smile but it was quickly replaced with a grimace. His face went white again.

“Look at me.” Annabelle said. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

Bobby did as she said but it did little to help his pallor. The sirens grew closer. As Nicole waved down the ambulance, Annabelle tried to keep Bobby coherent, tried to keep him with her. 

He was still responding to her, if only a little, but she swore that Bobby was paler still and she was beyond relieved when a Paramedic came next to them, setting down a big red bag.

“Hi Bobby,” The man said. “My name is Lawrence. I hear you’re not feeling too well?”

Bobby tilted forward.

“Whoah there,” Lawrence said, pressing a gentle gloved hand on his shoulder to keep him upright. “Just sit back and relax, okay? Can you tell me what day it is?”

“A shit one?” Bobby mumbled.

Lawrence laughed, pressing two fingers against Bobby’s neck. After a few seconds he seemed satisfied and he took Bobby’s hand away from Annabelle. Annabelle forced herself to stay silent, letting Lawrence do what he needed to even if she was desperate for answers.

“Yeah,” Lawrence said, “Can you squeeze my hand? Tight as you can. That’s it, good job. Now, I’m just going to test your-“

“No!” Bobby panicked, his other arm wrapping ever tighter around his abdomen.

Then, as if embarrassed for having reacted like that, Bobby ducked his head and looked away.

“It’s okay.” Lawrence said patiently. “I know it really hurts right now but I’m here to help.”

For a few long moments, Bobby just sat there, not moving. Annabelle’s heart raced, not knowing why Lawrence hadn’t immediately taken him into the ambulance and rushed him to the hospital. Then, slowly, Bobby released his side, his breath catching from the movement. Lawrence caught his hand, once again asking him to squeeze tightly. Satisfied, Lawrence let go. The hand went straight back to his abdomen.

“Okay, just a few more questions.” Lawrence said. “Were you feeling sick before now or did it come on suddenly?”

Bobby hesitated, glancing at Annabelle.

“Tell him the truth.” Annabelle said gently.

“It’s been a few days… But it wasn’t this bad.” Bobby admitted.

Annabelle forced back the ache in her chest. A few days and she had never even suspected he was unwell, she really had failed him as his older sister.

“And where you are holding is the only place you feel pain? Is there anywhere else?”

Bobby shook his head. Then his eyes glazed over and his whole body went rigid.

“Bobby?” Lawrence prompted.

In an instant Lawrence was holding a vomit bag to Bobby’s mouth. But nothing came up, only more painful dry reaching. After another agonising few moments, with Annabelle rubbing circles in his back again and Lawrence giving him soft assurances, Bobby finally settled down a little, sitting back again with a groan.

Lawrence gave him a little longer to recover before he spoke.

“I’m going to help you over to the ambulance now, okay? Just take it slow.”

Bobby looked miserable at the idea of moving but he couldn’t very well stay here on the street. With one arm gripping his side, Annabelle gripped the other and Lawrence counted them down and on one, he helped support Bobby’s weight as he stood. 

Bobby pitched forward and Lawrence guided him back to the ground easily as if he had been expecting that to happen, setting him into the recovery position and rechecking his pulse.

Annabelle’s hands were definitely shaking now, staring down at her brother’s closed eyes.

“Bree,” Lawrence called, glancing towards the other paramedic. “Gurney, please.”

Even unconscious Bobby was trembling and Annabelle wanted nothing more than to take his pain away. Had he collapsed because of that pain or did something else cause his knees to buckle like that? Whatever had caused it, Annabelle was certain that she would remember Bobby’s eyes fluttering closed until the day she died.

Lawrence opened up that big red bag, and grabbed out some fabric scissors. Annabelle held Bobby’s hand as Lawrence cut away his shirt, placing electrodes on different places on his chest. For a terrifying moment the machine the electrodes connected to showed no heartbeat yet Lawerence didn’t seem worried, moving onto placing an oxygen mask over Bobby’s face.

At last the heart monitor booted up fully and Annabelle wanted to cry as it showed that Bobby’s heart was beating steadily, if a little quickly.

By the time the mask and heart monitor were situated, the other paramedic was bringing a gurney towards them. She greeted Annabelle kindly, introducing herself as Bree. With Lawrence taking charge, and a gentle instruction for Annabelle to hold the heart monitor for a moment, Lawrence and Bree lifted Bobby up. 

Bobby gave off a sharp cry, his eyes flinging open and if Lawrence hadn’t corrected his hold on Bobby so quickly, he might have fallen from the paramedics grip.

“Hey there Bud,” Lawrence said easily, setting Bobby down onto the gurney. “Deep breathes for me, everything’s going to be just fine.”

If Bobby heard him, he showed no sign, his entire body shuddering as his glassy eyes flicked around as if unable to focus on any one thing. But then Bobby’s eyes met Annabelle’s and he froze. 

“Anna?”

“It’s me,” She said. “I’m right here.”

Bobby moaned, curling onto his side. He gasped and for one terrible moment Annabelle had thought he had lost consciousness again but then Bobby reached a shaking hand out to her. She gripped onto it, pressing her lips to his knuckles.

“Anna… ‘m sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine. Just try to breathe, okay?”

“Hurts…”

She really had failed as a big sister because all she could do was hold his hand as if that would ever be enough.

[fideidefenswhore]

How did you get so smart? People come with asks and you know the answer and has a source ready in 5 minutes. I read a book and forget it straight away, but did you memorize the archives? You just know where a single sentence is in a letter in decades of letters! Like how do you even do that? Maybe I'm dumb but i find that archive so hard to search. I type in a name and get nothing like theres no such person. If I follow a link it just takes me to a whole page of letters not the actual one.

Oh, well, I save a lot of them to drafts. "Five minutes" is often just queued posts.

No, but I do have files of saved excerpts, and often a phrase just sticks with me so it's easy to search and find. It's like anything, the more times you read it, the better you remember it.

So, there's lots of spellings for names in different archives (Milan, Venice, Henry VIII, State Calendar of Spain), which is why that can be difficult, you also have to know what to search and at what time ("Queen" will eventually get you sources on Anne Boleyn in Venice and Milan 1533-36, for example, but "Queen" searched for Spain during that time will only ever get Catherine). "Ana de Boulans" vs "Mademoiselle de Boulan" etc.

And yeah, that is frustrating on mobile, I understand, if you're on a computer, when it takes you to the page (because you link to the month/section) you can always Ctrl + F the quote and it should highlight where it is.

[citynewsglobe]

[ad_1] Welcome to a treasure trove of inspiration, knowledge, and thought-provoking insights—mydearquotes.com quotes archives ! This on-line haven is devoted to the artwork of quotes, the place phrases from nice minds echo by means of time. Whether or not you search motivation in your day or deep reflections on life’s complexities, this platform has one thing for everybody. We frequently underestimate the ability of knowledge in our every day lives; it shapes our ideas, influences choices, and guides us on our private journeys. Be a part of me as we discover mydearquotes.com quotes archives and uncover how these snippets of knowledge can resonate with us all. Let’s dive into some timeless truths which may simply change the way in which you see the world round you! The Significance of Knowledge in Every day Life Knowledge is extra than simply information; it’s the software of that information in real-world conditions. In every day life, knowledge guides choices and shapes interactions. When confronted with challenges, clever insights can illuminate the trail ahead. This psychological readability helps us navigate complexities with confidence. Furthermore, knowledge fosters empathy. It encourages understanding and compassion in the direction of others. A clever perspective permits for deeper connections in relationships. In a fast-paced world stuffed with data overload, knowledge acts as an anchor. It reminds us to pause and mirror earlier than performing impulsively. Embracing knowledge cultivates resilience. Life’s ups and downs change into simpler to deal with when considered by means of a lens of perception. Incorporating knowledge into our on a regular basis lives enriches our experiences and enhances private development. High 5 Most Fashionable Quotes on Knowledge from mydearquotes.com Knowledge usually comes wrapped in easy but profound phrases. At mydearquotes.com, some quotes stand out for his or her timeless insights. One favourite is from Aristotle: “Figuring out your self is the start of all knowledge.” This encourages deep self-reflection and private development. One other gem by Confucius states, “Actual information is to know the extent of 1’s ignorance.” It reminds us that acknowledging our limitations could be a pathway to higher understanding. Maya Angelou gives a strong perspective along with her phrases: “I’ve realized that folks will overlook what you mentioned, folks will overlook what you probably did, however folks will always remember the way you made them really feel.” This emphasizes emotional intelligence as a key part of knowledge. Then there’s Socrates’ well-known quote: “The unexamined life isn't price dwelling.” It highlights the worth of introspection in reaching true achievement. Buddha teaches us that “The thoughts is the whole lot. What you suppose you change into.” This serves as a reminder of our ideas’ transformative energy. The Historical past and Which means behind These Quotes Many quotes on knowledge mirror the profound ideas of influential philosophers and thinkers all through historical past. Every one carries a singular story, usually rooted in private experiences or societal challenges. For instance, Aristotle emphasised sensible knowledge as important for dwelling a virtuous life. His insights have formed our understanding of ethics for hundreds of years. Equally, Confucius confused the significance of studying from previous errors. This concept resonates throughout cultures and occasions, highlighting humanity’s shared journey towards enlightenment. Understanding these quotes requires delving into their historic contexts. The struggles confronted by the authors usually mirror common human experiences, making their messages timeless. When exploring mydearquotes.com quotes archives, you’ll uncover layers of which means that invite reflection. These phrases encourage us to hunt information and embrace humility as we navigate every day life’s complexities. Tips on how to Apply the Knowledge in Your Personal Life

Making use of knowledge in on a regular basis life may be transformative. Begin by reflecting on the quotes that resonate with you. Write them down and revisit them recurrently. Follow mindfulness. Take a second to pause throughout your day, respiration deeply and occupied with how these insights relate to your present challenges. Interact in conversations centered across the themes of knowledge. Discussing completely different views can deepen your understanding and encourage motion. Set small targets impressed by what you’ve realized from clever phrases. Whether or not it’s being extra affected person or form, actionable steps make change attainable. Create a gratitude journal the place you observe every day experiences that embody knowledge. Acknowledging these moments reinforces constructive behaviors whereas nurturing private development. Lesser-Identified however Equally Highly effective Quotes on Knowledge from mydearquotes.com Diving into the mydearquotes.com quotes archives reveals hidden gems that always go unnoticed. These lesser-known quotes on knowledge resonate deeply, providing recent views. As an illustration, one quote emphasizes the significance of listening over talking. It reminds us that understanding usually begins with silence—a useful lesson in at this time’s fast-paced world. One other profound thought means that knowledge isn't merely gathered information however fairly a mix of expertise and humility. This attitude encourages us to stay open-minded. Moreover, there are insights about discovering readability in chaos. Such quotes encourage resilience and assist navigate life’s uncertainties with grace. These highly effective phrases problem standard pondering and invite introspection. They function light nudges in the direction of private development, urging us to mirror on our personal journeys by means of life’s complexities. Knowledge from Totally different Cultures and Views Knowledge usually transcends borders, weaving by means of the material of varied cultures. Every society gives distinctive views that enrich our understanding of life. In Japanese philosophies, like Buddhism and Confucianism, knowledge emphasizes concord. It’s about discovering stability inside oneself and with others. This holistic view encourages mindfulness in every day actions. Conversely, Western traditions usually have fun individualism. Thinkers like Socrates urged self-examination as a path to information. The search for fact can result in private freedom and empowerment. Indigenous knowledge additionally holds important worth. Many indigenous communities emphasize connection to nature and the significance of ancestral teachings. Their insights remind us that knowledge isn't just mental however deeply rooted in expertise and group bonds. Exploring these numerous viewpoints broadens our appreciation for all times’s complexities. Every tradition contributes priceless classes that resonate throughout time and area. Conclusion: Knowledge is a journey, not only a vacation spot. It invitations us to discover completely different views and experiences. The quotes housed within the mydearquotes.com quotes archives function guiding lights. They remind us to pause, mirror, and embrace moments of perception. Each quote has its personal story, ready for somebody to unlock its which means. As we delve deeper into these phrases of knowledge, we discover layers that resonate with our every day lives. Whether or not looking for motivation or readability, there’s one thing priceless for everybody inside this assortment. The sweetness lies in discovering how these timeless sayings can remodel mundane moments into profound revelations. Exploring knowledge enriches our understanding of ourselves and the world round us. Every go to to the archives gives a possibility for development and inspiration. FAQ’s What forms of quotes can I discover on mydearquotes.com? You will see that an in depth assortment spanning varied themes corresponding to love, motivation, happiness, and clearly—knowledge!

How usually does mydearquotes.com replace its archives? The positioning recurrently provides new content material to maintain its archive recent and related for readers looking for inspiration. Can I contribute my very own favourite quotes? Completely! The platform encourages customers to share private favorites which can ultimately change into a part of their collective knowledge library. [ad_2] Supply hyperlink