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eastern-anarchist · 3 years

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Why intersectional theory doesn’t fit the description of ethnic discrimination in Eastern Europe (longread - I don't know if you will read this, but I think it's important)

Disclaimer 1: I am a historian, not a sociologist, and this affects my analysis. Disclaimer 2: I know best the history of the Russian Empire and least of all the Ottoman history. As we know, intersectional theory emerges from the concepts of "privilege" and "oppression". There are social categories that have greater access to benefits (education, good income, representation in art and media, etc.), and there are those that are oppressed for certain essentialist reasons, although the reasons are actually socially constructed (non-white skin color, non-straight sexuality, but you know about this without me). It’s important that such a system has been established for centuries, starting from about Early Modern times.

Intersectional theory is aimed at increasing the diversity of discourse and representing as many identities as possible in society. Also, the theory assumes a description of the intersections of various discrimination, where race, class, gender and sexuality aren’t separated from each other, but together form a person's identity. But ironically, this theory is very Americancentric, as it stemmed in large part from racial conflicts in the United States. It’s also partly Western Europeancentric, and includes mainly such colonial relations as between Britain and India, France and Algeria, etc.

But on the example of countries on the territory of the former Russian, Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman empires, it doesn’t work well, and here's why.

Mostly, the intersectional theory assumes the same type of conflicts and relations (racial, class, gender) in society over the centuries, which began to be established precisely in the late 15th - early 16th centuries, and this isn’t at all obvious for Eastern Europe.

Eastern Europe has distinguished itself by its "long" feudalism. Feudalism, on the other hand, means political fragmentation instead of absolutism, a greater concentration on religious affiliation (hello to the beginning of secularization in Western Europe) and the priority of status over class. Yeah, in capitalism it was difficult for a peasant to become a worker, and a worker (even more difficult) to become a small entrepreneur. But feudalism, in principle, doesn’t imply any social mobility - everyone is literally obliged to remain within the framework of their social strata.

Thus, the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth remained de facto politically fragmented up to partitions in 1795. The Russian Empire retained the priority of (Orthodox) religion over class until (!) the February Revolution in 1917. For example, in imperial Russia there was such a concept as the Pale of Settlement - a territory where Jews could live and were forbidden to move outside of it. At first glance, this looks like normal segregation, HOWEVER. Christianized Jews could live outside the Pale of Settlement, and especially rich and educated Jews had the right to do so. Yes, here it’s necessary to make disclaimers that there were such a minority and towards the end of the Russian Empire there was state discrimination of "privileged" Jews (for example, under tsar Alexander III). But we must take into account this "ambiguity" of social relations.

In the three empires, very different peoples lived side by side, who didn’t live segregated from each other, and built their identity not on "citizenship", but on the same religion or even on the area of residence. It can be said that Russians were an ethnic group in the Russian Empire, but this statement will tell you nothing about the relationship between Jews and Ukrainians, Poles and Romanians, Georgians and Armenians, etc. Moreover, empires had many mixed families, which significantly influenced attempts to build "nations" in these regions.

Serfdom existed for a long time in the Austro-Hungarian and especially in the Russian Empire. In fact, this is a form of slavery, but it extended to peasants, regardless of their ethnicity. In general, returning to the first point, the stratification here was very strict. In the Russian Empire, at the time the Bolsheviks came to power, 3/4 of the population were peasants and illiterate.

Oh yes, the Bolsheviks. The USSR in general confused everyone. At the beginning of the USSR, all nationalities were formally declared free (the Pale of Settlement and the priority of religion were abolished), but things went badly after the arrival of Stalin, under whose rule massive repressions were carried out against national minorities. At that time, many Germans lived in the USSR, who were a rather privileged community in the Russian Empire (recall that Catherine II was an ethnic German). But under Stalin, the Germans were among the first repressive and deported groups (largely due to the arrival of the Nazis in Germany and the invasion to the USSR). But by God, for reasoning about whether the USSR was an "empire" and what ethnic conflicts there were, 10 more posts are needed.

Finally, relations with the metropolises. Due to the redistribution of territories, the same territories with ethnic minorities belonged to different empires. The Balkans were part both of the Ottoman Empire and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and Russia also wanted to annex them. As for today, the Czech Republic or Western Ukraine are unlikely to have any conflicts with Austria (but I’m not saying here about the entire Western European world). What can’t be said unequivocally about the Balkans and Turkey, and even more so about Russia and Belarus, Ukraine and Central Asia. In general, guys, it is possible to operate with intersectional theory only in the case of countries which 1) colonies were far from the metropolises; 2) capitalism developed early; 3) racial and ethnic minorities were severely segregated. And it hardly applies to countries that have been feudal for a long time, have gone through a massive revolution, a Soviet / nationalist dictatorship and suddenly become neoliberal.

#eastern europe #intersectionality #intersectional politics #colonialism #neocolonialism #post colonialism #history #us #western europe #russian empire #austro-hungary #ottoman #post soviet #capitalism #racism #nationalism #chauvinism

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lady-writes · 3 years

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TALES THROUGH TIME TWO FT MY LEAST FAVORITE COVER. GREG AND LEANDRO I KNOW YOU ARE BETTER THAN THIS WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!

Stream of consciousness ramble reactions and big thoughts below the cut

SO NORIKO THEN-

just coming hot off the ropes to smack us with some THEMES

I don’t think this is early enough to be Noriko’s origin, this story is set 13th century AD and we know Noriko is BC old along with Andy and Lykon

I do find it WILDLY interesting that Noriko for what ever reason saw fit to Stalk? Haunt? Hunt? Follow? this man through his entire life. The narrative implies that she might have been his first kill. It out right says that she chose NOT to kill him then, and knowing what we know about how these homies fight, its a fair assumption that she could have killed him any of the 6 times we see them cross paths. but instead she waited.. WHY?!

RED IS NORIKO/QUYNH’S COLOR. IT IS LAW.

The whole of Force Multiplied is Nile/Andy/Noriko debating what is morally right for them to do. Noriko has no lines in her own story beyond introducing herself but HERE the framework is about nothing more or less that the question of what gives any person the right to kill another, to make choice for another living thing. THEMES OUT THE WAZOOOO

apparently by 1200′s AD Noriko had decided that tits out was no longer the way to go

also everytime Noriko Dies She’s Smiling.... I do not know what to make of that fact but I do find it unsettling

oh booker you sad fucking bastard, i hate when I’m right

SON OF A BITCH DO I HATE HATE HATE FORE/AFTERSHADOWING WHAT ON GODS GREEN EARTH, GODDAMN

sO YEAH ABOUT THAT FUCKING A

BOOKER IS FATES FUCKING CHEW TOY AND NOTHING IS GOING TO CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

My personal HC of Booker as a optimist who’s been battered through cynicism pessimism and straight into self destructive Nihilism feels right at home in this story

Booker did keep his Napoleonic sabre! though what may have become of it is anyone’s guess

God so like do you think he remembers? Do you think he thinks its a coincidence? Booker never gets to see Copley’s stalker wall in comics or in the movie, so the whole intertwined web of humanity thing isn’t something he has awareness of as of the end of force multiplied.

1870- 68 years into immortality and Booker loves a wine (bougie hoe) and drinks/talks about drinking quite similarly to how he does in current era. Fair guess to blame his alcoholism on the death of his family rather than failure to cope with immortality. He’s still looking for meaning in why he’s alive

OH GOD YOU KNOW BOOKER AND JOE HAVE BONDED OVER THEIR SAVING PEOPLE THING. NICKY MUST BE SO FUCKING TIRED 🤣 🤣 🤣

I wonder why these two got paired together- assuming there’s some reason to that. Noriko’s story of apparent vengeance/ spending one of her many lifetimes pursuing one man for vengeance? shits and giggs? juxtaposed to Booker searching for meaning and trying to reassure himself that there must be a reason for his continued existence

what was andy up to in San Fran? I’m just curious but hey! its a stamp on the over all timeline of canon

IDK if we’re ever gonna see young shiny booker I doubt it, but I am REALLY looking forward to Andy+Achilles, because that will be the closest thing to seeing another new immortal being brought into the fold (when Andy and Booker meet)

My Takeaways:

The guard getting found out is gonna be directly related to Merrick, cuz maybe Merrick the Elder did tell those stories to his grandkids, maybe he made a sketch of the man who saved his life and the subsequent generations of Merrick’s grew up with that family legend. Maybe the quest for immortality was a family business. the Merrick the Elder become obsessed? This is the second time a story’s focal point/twist has rested on the Team coming across a former victim later in their lives. Situationally different thematically the same.

Quynh/Noriko continues to be PEAK MYSTERIOUS WOMAN TROPE. PLEASE SIR MAY I HAVE SOME BACKSTORY??!?!?!??! I WANT TO KNOW HER!!!!

IS BOOKER SECRETLY SQUISHY? WAS Booker squishy but now he’s drunk it out of his system

DID BOOKER MAKE THE MERRICK CONNECTION BECAUSE I STG IF THIS POOR HIMBEAUX ASSHAT SAW MERRICK PHARMA IN 2020 AND THOUGHT OH THIS IS WHY I SAVED THAT FUCKER I WILL EAT MY OWN KIDNEY THAT IS SO FUCKING MEAN. PLEASE GIVE THIS MAN SEVERAL SERATONINS, SOME PUPPIES AND A TALKSPACE ACCOUNT

Noriko’s entire comics MO of we should be the ones who cause the suffering, that's our right as the literal elder gods of this planet/humanity is Not one that I like at all but definitely suits her vignette

Booker got REAL GOOD AT FIGHTING for a man who was an unwilling Army conscript in the largest and most disastrous conscript army/campaign of the 20th century. Even if you don't assume that he spend the first 2-3 decades of his immortality tryin to like a normal life, The team is fighting enough that he got good enough to go 4 on 1 with one functioning eye in 60 years, and its far more likely that he actually did it in 30-40

Lastly I really like this book but I’m disappointed in Kelly Sue and/or Greg Rucka. Noriko/Quynh’s character is obviously pivotal to the story, but she has no genuine presence in the book. Blessedly she is unfridgeable (we hope), but she’s very much living in the Fridge position. She’s a Lost Lenore to the team, She’s Andy’s Eurydice. When she’s introduced in the main story she come with all the femme fatale/exotic dangerous woman tropes. She’s as flat as any generic superhero girlfriend and I expect better of these particular writers by far. I hope that this is a function of an attempt at mystery or some other need to keep her barely present in reality but constantly on the periphery, but not of the other one shots seem to have any place for her and Fade Away is no less than 7 months into a very nebulous future. Please don’t let me down book (UrProllyGonnaLetMeDown)

#tog comics talk #the old guard meta #the old guard #spoilers

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deaku · 4 years

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Here’s a bit of something I haven’t posted in a long time... A fanfic! A Transformers based one at that. Been a fan of Transformers since the very beginning, yeah I’m old... Anyway, I’ve had plenty of ideas for characters and stories over the years, but I’ve never really written or drawn any and posted about them. Not sure why not. But a while back I had an idea for an origin for the Transformers that I could link with my other ideas with minimal problems so I ended up writing out the basics for how the Transformers came to be, at least in my own verse ;P heh However recently I got the urge to share my bit of history but I thought it wasn’t much to share as it was, just a basic description/history of how the Transformers came to exist. So I decided to try and make a fic out of it, and ended up changing it to someone telling the story of how the Cybertronian race came to exist after they dived far too deep into a database they were not supposed to and now believes they have found the Truth. Now while this is the history of the Transformers in my stories/ideas I suppose technically this fic could be placed into any Transformers universe, even those that have different origins, and the character in the story was really just driven insane by what they experienced Anyway, I hope you enjoy the read, or at least find it interesting.

Madness… or the Truth?

As always the same old questions even when they’re coming out of a different face. Do you all get some sort of script to follow before being sent in to talk me or what? Seriously asking the same questions over and over is not going to get you anything new, maybe you need to figure out the right questions to ask.

Do you even know why you’re talking to me? Because it seems like most of you that have come really only know why I’m in here. Yes, I broke a law. I did the forbidden and linked myself directly into Vector Sigma so that I could better access information. Stupid law really. Did you know it’s even forbidden asking Vector Sigma certain kinds of questions? Why is such a thing law? Vector Sigma itself gave me permission to do so. Sure it was after I had snuck past the guards and let myself into Vector Sigma’s Complex but that’s neither here nor there. But don’t you wonder why I’m in here rather than in a detention center? I’m locked up here not because of what I did, but because of what I know. Your bosses are afraid that what I now know might get out.

I’m a historian you see, I’ve devoted my existence to piecing together the past and finding out where we came from. That’s why I went to Vector Sigma. Most only know it as an ancient great machine that can create Sparks. But who better to ask about our world’s history than the sentient super-computer that’s said to have existed before Cybertron? But it seems that those in power aren’t interested in learning what actually happened, our very origins. No, that’s why I had to do it the way I did. I needed to know what Vector Sigma knows, whether the Council gave their permission or not. And since Vector Sigma was willing to grant my request I went for it.

Oh the things I saw… Historical events that happened so long ago that the only way you can learn about them is to read about such events in the libraries; Vector Sigma showed them to me, as if they were recorded yesterday. Events going back all the way to the beginnings of our recorded history. But it wasn’t enough, while it was absolutely incredible to actually see such events as if they were my own memories they were things I had already learned during my research. I asked… begged… Vector Sigma to take me back further. Back to our very origins, of how we, and Cybertron, came to be.

And Vector Sigma did show me… I now know how it all began… where we came from… the origin of our race, of the very world we live upon… I know the Truth. And no it’s not anything any of those religious types will tell you either. Not the Primas, not the Sigmas, not the Sparkers, not the Forgers, not the Teeners or the Hands, not even the Atechies or any other religion or cult you could name. Sure I admit some might have had the barest clue at first; but they’ve all taken what they had and instead of thinking about it and putting it all together they grabbed what they had and ran off in completely different directions and now none of them have the slightest clue of what they’re talking about.

But I know what the answers are… And I’ll tell you. That’s why you’re here isn’t it? To listen to this tale of mine and learn what I have learned? Well then, sit back and listen well while I tell you of our true history…

It started oh so long ago with a race known as the Quintessons. I doubt you’ve heard of them because it seems no one has, of all the races we’ve met in our travels and explorations not one has been the Quintessons nor have we heard any mention of them. But that’s understandable since it was so long ago that they’re more than likely extinct by now and general knowledge of them has passed from memory. Anyway, the Quintessons were a race both famous and infamous across the known space as merchants that sold incredible technologies. But while they were known for selling such fantastic tech they could also be quite underhanded; and if you couldn’t pay them the agreed upon sum… well they were perfectly happy to take their payments in whatever resources your planet had or just take the people. No one even knows where they came from or what they really were, other races only had rumors to go on. Not even Vector Sigma’s records revealed where they came from, maybe the Quintessons didn’t even know themselves, but it did have files about what they really were. They were a race of biomechanical beings; organic creatures hardwired into mechanical bodies, cold hard metal on the outside and soft and fleshy on the inside. Not that it mattered, everybody else only cared about the technologies they could provide.

But that bit of data is just the set up for this tale, a bit of background to help with later understanding. Now we get to the important stuff.

Now at some point a very long time ago the Quintesson Merchant Fleet was traveling around and searching through uninhabited and low-population sectors of space looking for fresh materials needed to make their various products and taking what they found. Well it was in an asteroid belt of a nondescript system that the Quintessons made an unexpected discovery. They were taking a sample from a large asteroid to test it for what it was made out of when the surface of that asteroid shattered and came apart revealing a huge mass of Energon crystals; much to the shock of the Quintessons, but that soon turned to delight. Now I’m sure you’re educated enough to know that Energon is a pretty rare element in most places in known space, though the natural crystals can be found in some surprising places on occasion. But to find such a large concentration of crystals such as this mass they had just uncovered was exceedingly rare. The Quintessons rejoiced. With that amount of Energon they finally had the energy resources to move forward with a plan that they had in the works for a long time. For so long the Quintessons only home had been their ships, a fleet with no home port wandering the spaceways with their primary goal being continued profit and power. But now they would build their own world. Not only would it be a place of safety that could protect itself better than their ships, but it could also be a laboratory greater than any they possessed as well as a factory to churn out their creations in greater numbers than ever before.

That massive cluster of Energon crystals became the core of the Quintessons' new project, it would provide the required energy not just for the building but it would also power the artificial planet itself once complete. Materials were mined from the surrounding asteroid belt as well as other planetary bodies in the system, even nearby systems were raided for the necessary materials for the Quintessons' plans. Metals were forged, parts crafted and machines built. The Quintessons' servitor races were commanded to begin construction under their masters' watchful eyes. First a shell full of energy collectors and regulators were built around the Energon crystal core, then work on the framework for the rest of the planet began. Not only were their forged metals used in the superstructure but other asteroids were incorporated as well to act as solid anchor points for the artificial planet's framework during construction and to also provide an easily accessed source of raw materials later on. The work took centuries as the superstructure was built up and various machinery was added to serve the Quintessons' plans for their new world. A planetary computer network was installed with a Quintesson designed A.I. that would help run and coordinate the planet's functions as the artificial world was brought online. An A.I. dubbed Primus…

Yes, I said Primus. No Primus is not some mythical god from a higher plane of existence but a real physical thing, constructed just like you or me. Perhaps the greatest Artificial Intelligence in the known universe built right into our planet.

Primus's primary function was to manage the planet's systems, keep everything running smoothly and making sure the world doesn’t fall apart. Primus’s secondary functions was to act as a data storage library and simulator for the Quintessons' many projects and experiments. However Primus had some heavy restrictions placed upon it, as powerful an A.I. as it was the Quintessons would not allow Primus to act beyond the functions they had assigned to it. Another layer of security for the Primus A.I. was that it could only be accessed through specially built interface computers spread around the planet, that often had their own lesser A.I.s, or through special command keys created for the specific purpose of linking to Primus.

Now you may be wondering why the Quintessons would make such a powerful A.I. if they were just going to slam it with a bunch of restrictions on what it could do and keep watch over its every move. Well that’s a bit of an interesting tale that’s buried deep within Vector Sigma’s files. As it turns out this planet was not their first attempt at creating a world, they had tried once before but it had gone horribly wrong when the planetary A.I. went rogue. It started much the same way, finding a large mass of Energon crystals and deciding to build a planet around it. And things proceeded pretty much the same including the creation of a planetary A.I. that had much the same duties as Primus, running the world’s systems and assisting the Quintessons with their projects. This A.I. was dubbed Unicron. Things went as planned until the eve the of new planet’s completion… It started when Unicron suddenly locked the Quintessons out of the planet's network and began to use its defense systems to attack them. While many Quintessons were killed in the unexpected betrayal most managed to get to their ships and launch into space beyond Unicron’s reach. It was then they then retaliated, with every weapon their fleet possessed. While their ships’ weaponry didn't have the power to destroy their artificial planet outright, nor enough to strike deep enough to actually damage Unicron's core systems, they did immense damage to the surface and what structures were there. After they were satisfied with the damage their bombardment did the Quintessons left into interstellar space, hoping they had done enough damage to leave Unicron trapped in a useless metal shell until it ran out of power and the whole thing became a broken dead metal hulk floating in the void.

But with the restrictions in place and keeping a watchful eye on their second planetary A.I. the Quintessons were pleased that Primus showed no signs of rebellion in any way as construction was completed and preformed its assigned functions quickly and efficiently. The new planet was fully brought online and the Quintessons settled into their new home which they named Quintessa.

Yes, Quintessa. This planet of ours wasn’t always known as Cybertron.

Anyway with their new planet complete and their factories up and running the Quintessons were able to produce more of their products than ever before. Where before their sales were limited by what the factories in their ships could produce the Quintessons were now able to get their product to all who wanted it, allowing them to expand the sphere of influence further than ever before. But even this didn’t satisfy the Quintessons; they wanted more influence, more power. To do so they would continue to work and experiment to expand their product catalog so that they'd always have something new for their clients to pay for. Growing ever more confident due to their success the Quintessons decided to push their experiments further and further, culminating in the desire to create a new lifeform that they could sell as a servant race.

Their first experiments working towards their new goal began with altering existing lifeforms using cybernetics. The first batch that managed to survive the process were dubbed the Trans-Organics; but due to the imperfect conversion process the beings were of minimal intelligence, aggressive and uncontrollable, making them quite unsuitable for a servant race. Deemed failures the Trans-Organics were either destroyed or sealed away in stasis chambers below the planet's surface in case a use for them was found.

Not to be deterred the Quintessons continued experimenting. As they worked to either perfect the cybernetic conversion process or come up with a new type of conversion the next lifeforms to be remade was decided upon; one of the Quintessons' servitor races that were considered quite useful due to the size and natural strength. Rather than involve cybernetics again the Quintessons came up with an entirely new conversion process; one that could actually convert organic flesh into a sort of living metal resulting in a being that was a natural combination of the organic and inorganic. The process seemed a successful one, at least at first. The first few beings put through the new conversion process seemed to be everything the Quintessons wanted; strong, durable, easily controllable. But when they moved on to mass conversion of their chosen servitor race something went very wrong. Nearly the entire population of the newly converted beings seemed to lose their minds and became incredibly aggressive and uncontrollable like the Trans-Organics before them. Even worse not only did they have incredible amounts of strength and durability but they drained the energy from other beings to feed. The Quintessons had no idea how this ability developed, nothing in their experiments even hinted that this could be a possible side-effect of their flesh-to-metal conversion process. But any being these creatures could get their claws on was sucked dry of energy and left a husk. While it was costly to them, losing a good number of their other servitor races, the Quintessons managed to lure the creatures down to the lowest levels of the planet and sealed them away never to be released.

While these failures didn’t do much to deter the Quintessons from their desire to create a new servant race they did begin to think that perhaps they might be going in the wrong direction trying to convert already existing beings. There was actually a good portion of the populace that thought they were doomed to failure in such experiments anyway. The Quintessons already considered themselves the perfect meld of organic and machine and it was pointless, or maybe even obscene, trying to replicate that just for a product to sell. It was decided it was time to move in a different direction with their experiments, they would create a completely new lifeform.

Creating a new purely organic race was quickly dismissed, most flesh simply wasn't strong enough for their plans and on average didn't last nearly long enough for a sold product. Which is why they had been trying to convert it into something stronger in their previous experiments. A mechanical form would ideal for what the Quintessons wanted, but a simple robot wasn't what they wanted nor would it impress their customers. Not only did they already have robotic products but many of the Quintessons' clients could make their own robots easily even if they weren't as advanced as what the Quintessons offered. The Quintessons figured they had to somehow to give a machine "life" to truly make it stand apart from all that came before. They tried many things to try and bring a machine to life; from attempting to drain the "lifeforce" from an organic creature and transferring it to a machine to infusing a mechanical body with massive amounts of energy in an attempt to spark life. But nothing they tried seemed to work; most of the time the machines would simply be destroyed, other experiments would result in nonliving but rampaging machines that had to be put down.

The Quintessons had gotten a bit obsessed with their idea by this point and simply would not give up, they finally decided to put the full power of their planetary A.I. to use in figuring out this problem. Primus was ordered to take all the data from their many experiments on creating mechanical life and use all the processing power that wasn't already dedicated to keeping the planet running to extrapolate and run simulations until a way was found to get what they wanted, to imbue a machine with a "lifeforce". But even with the sheer processing power of Primus and the speed it could run simulations it took the A.I. decades before it could come up with a solution. The result was an energy form that would function as the equivalent of an organic being's lifeforce that would infuse a machine with life, Primus dubbed this energy form a "Spark".

Yeah that’s right, I said Spark. How’s it feel knowing our Sparks, or Souls as some of the organic races might put it, are the result of a big science experiment? Feeling a bit humbled yet? Don’t worry, we’ll get you there...

As for the actual creation of Sparks… having things work in simulations and getting them to work in reality were two very different things and it took the Quintessons some time to perfect the manufacture of these Sparks and then moving on to the process of using them to infuse a machine with life in a stable form. But after many more years and experiments the Quintessons finally had what they desired, a mechanical lifeform that fit all their criteria for their desired new race. Alive and aware in ways that even the best programming couldn't reproduce in other machines, not to mention strong, durable and customizable for a variety of potential roles The Quintessons rejoiced, they had a product the was superior to anything that had come before and that no one had anything that could compare.

And there it is, the very start of our race. We weren’t Cybertronians back then, no, we were just “Mechanical Life” the newest product of the Quintessons. Just another thing to be bought and sold like anything else sitting on the store shelf. Quite an origin for us huh? But don’t pack up your things and leave just yet, there still more to this tale.

Of course the Quintessons just couldn’t have a single type of their new sales item so they made several product lines out of their living machines, enough to fill any niche they thought their customers might want. And their customers just couldn't seem to get enough, all space-faring species in known space that the Quintessons had contact with wanted to buy their living machines. The Quintessons quickly became one of the dominate powers in known space not only economically but also militarily thanks to keeping a large force of their most advanced combat designed living machines around to protect their interests.

But as they were basking in their continued success and newfound power the Quintessons never stopped to consider that their living machines might continue to develop as living things tend to do; they were only product after all and they preformed their designed functions as they were built to. However even though the CPUs of the living machines were programmed with all the data needed for their intended function and safeguards to keep them focused on their function the Sparks within the living machines allowed them to think and wonder beyond the limits of their programming, to dream even. And their Sparks also let them feel emotion more strongly than the Quintessons ever intended. Many of the living machines began to wonder why they needed to continue to listen to the Quintessons; sure they may have created the living machines but the Quintessons obviously didn't care about them beyond the profit they made from selling them. Talk began to circulate amongst the living machines, particularly those that the Quintessons kept around for protection as they always saw so many of their brethren sold off, talk about what sort of future their race had when they were only considered a product. Opinions began to turn towards wanting to do something to change things…

It started with the number of industrial accidents increasing, damaging entire factories and slowing both production and shipping. While some of them found the sudden increase the number of accidents odd most of the Quintessons didn't care as none of them were being hurt in the incidents; they just increased the production of other factories to make up for it until things were repaired and back on schedule. Then more obvious sabotage began. Incidents all over the planet; accidents, equipment failures, structural failures, so many things going wrong near constantly. Such incidents were especially prevalent in areas designated for the Quintessons themselves.

The Quintessons put blame their remaining servitor races; rebellions were something that the Quintessons had to deal with every few centuries from their servitor races and it had been a long time since the last uprising. But such things were easily dealt with and quickly put down. Those being blamed denied the accusations and said they had learned their lesson long ago and would never even think about doing such a thing. The Quintessons asked who could it be then? The living machines? How could it be them? They were programmed machines, they were not capable of such insurrection. The living machines had counted on this reaction and used the Quintessons' focus being elsewhere to further prepare, plan and coordinate their next steps.

One night the living machines all disappeared from their posts, from storage areas at the factories and space ports, even right off the assembly lines. Recordings had been erased from the security databases and anyone who may have been a witness was found dead. Much of the usual activity on the planet ground to a halt as the confused Quintessons and their servitor races wondered just what exactly had happened. But they didn't have long to wonder, as the Quintessons calmed down and began searching around for what had happened to their lost product the living machines leapt from their hiding places and attacked.

This was unlike what the Quintessons had experienced when their servitor races rebelled. The uprisings of the servitor races were typically localized to a single area as the Quintessons generally kept them segregated in separate areas so that it would be harder for the servitor races to cooperate in the event some wanted to rebel. However the rebellion of the living machines was planet-wide as the Quintessons had been using their own creations all over the planet.

The situation quickly turned to all-out war as the living machines fought against the Quintessons and their servitor races. While it was quite a surprise that their creations could turn on them like that the Quintessons were confident that they could put the rebellious machines in their place, they had put down plenty of uprisings before after all. At least it was that way at first… The Quintessons soon realized that perhaps they had made their living machines a little too well and had kept too many around for their own use. The living machines gained ground in the conflict and the Quintessons’ servitor races were getting slaughtered no matter how many they threw at the problem as the machines just kept on coming.

The Quintessons even tried to have Primus intervene by using the planet’s defense systems against the rogue machines as well as trying to cut off power to areas that had been taken over. They even removed many of the A.I.'s restrictions and programming blocks so that it could react faster. But even this didn't have the desired effect, Primus seemed to react slower than expected as it was fully analyzing the conflict. This angered the Quintessons as they felt they didn't have time to do a full analysis of the situation, they wanted action taken immediately. However Primus simply kept analyzing as it continued to use the defense systems and powering down sectors of the planet as the Quintessons had ordered it to while telling them that the desired resolution would be achieved.

Eventually the Quintessons’ final defenses were broken and the living machines came rushing in intent on erasing their creators from existence. The long war had been costly for both sides but the fiercest fighting was during that last battle. While it cost them what was left of their servitor races and many of their own some Quintesson survivors managed to get aboard and successfully launch a few ships and escape into space away from their planet and their rebellious creations.

The war was over and the living machines had liberated themselves from their uncaring creators and now claimed the planet where their race had been born as their own. Though not without cost… They had lost so many during the fighting and nearly the entire planet's infrastructure was ruined beyond hope of repair. But they were free to live how they wanted, not be built and sold as product but free to choose whatever they wanted. Having nothing but themselves their most obvious path was to begin building and developing some sort of civilization of their own. While there were many of ideas how to exactly to go about that many did not agree on the exact path they should take. But one thing that was agreed upon was to rename the planet to help separate themselves from their past and their creators, the name chosen was Cybertron and the living machines became the Cybertronians.

And that my friend is the true origin of our race as revealed to me by Vector Sigma. A past only fully remembered by Vector Sigma and Primus, who still works to keep our planet stabilized and habitable despite us and everything we’ve done to it. Unfortunately our written history doesn’t go back that far because shortly after the name Cybertron was decided upon the differing opinions of how to move forward couldn’t be reconciled and the various groups supporting each idea went their separate ways; soon descending into barbarism and forming into tribes that were more concerned with just surviving rather than keeping history… Our history doesn’t start being reliably recorded until much later with the founding of Iacon; I’m sure you’re aware of at least the major events of our history since then.

Yeah, I can see it on your face that you don’t believe me, that I’m just as crazy as your bosses said. But this isn’t madness, it’s the Truth. No matter how badly those in power want to keep it contained it’s now out there in the records and recordings of all these sessions and in the heads of all those that have talked to me. Really, if they wanted to keep this knowledge from getting out they’ve been doing a really poor job of containment.

Yes yes, I’m aware that all of you that come in here are sworn to secrecy. But how long do you think that’ll last? Not only are secrets things that beg to be told, but people always want to know what is being kept secret. It’s only a matter of time before something slips and the truth gets out.

Maybe you’ll be the one to set the truth free…

=Excerpt from the 27th Psychological Evaluation of Starbreaker=

#my writing #transformers #starbreaker

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atamascolily · 4 years

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lilyliveblogs “terminator 2″ for the first time, part 2

When we last left off, I was a pile of shipper goo, so time to get back to the movie.

(Part one here)

Someone -- the female doctor we saw before who looks kinda like Sarah? -- watching the video, smoking. I think I can see how Sarah is going to escape now. Oh, wait, it's Sarah, with Dr. Silbermann, watching herself on screen. The two asshole guards are in the background. Her hair's combed. She's subdued. Silbermann is still a jerk.

She wants to see her son. Silbermann's not going to let her, is he? Asshole. She denies crushing a Terminator, their existence, claiming Cyberdyne covered up the evidence. Cut to '90s computer nerds in their cubes, doing experiments that are probably going to trigger Judgment Day. Like you do.

They're doing experiments on "it," and new employee wants to know where "it" came from, so Dyson the manager can tell the audience. "Don't ask," is the answer. Everyone's wearing clean suits, which can't be good. There's a door with two keys that needs two people to open it. Yeah, this really can't be good.

Showdown at the Cyberdyne factory with whatever Terminator goes rogue in here??

Cyberdyne has built a safe for that one little fragment they got from the original Terminator... maybe there are more in different jars; it's a really big vault. Yup, there's the arm. The manager stares at it, and you can see the muscles in his cheek twitch as he contemplates it. He's probably going to die by strangulation at the hands of the Terminator if this movie keeps up with its dramatic ironies.

Of course Silbermann won't let Sarah see her son, so she tries to strangle him with his own tie.

Arnold on a motorcycle spies John Connor on a motorcycle, and the game is on!!

I'm like... 90% certain that's the Los Angeles River that John Connor is cycling down... because it's channeled and running through LA and barely has any water in it and everybody LOVES to film there... going to wiki that later...

Fake police officer asking girls for info about John. They're also delightfully '90s. John is an the arcade, delighting in his ill-gotten funds.

Terminator has disguised his gun as a... box of roses? Did I see that right?

John is playing a fighter simulation that is SO MUCH A CALLBACK TO THE OPENING SCENE WITH ALL THE SHIPS TRYING TO KILL THE HUMANS.

The police dude ASKS THE PUNK FRIEND shows him John's photograph, and the friend says "Nah, I don't know him," BECAUSE HE KNOWS BETTER THAN TO TRUST THE COP. Of course this gets John's attention and they run. And then the friend tries to point the cop in the other direction, but the cop just shoves him aside.

(I'll say this much for the punk friend: he tried. He was a good friend.)

LOL, the fact that John Connor knows better than to trust cops is what saves him. Otherwise, he'd've been a sitting duck. Except he runs right into Arnold...

Arnold flips over the rose box, revealing the gun, and it looks like all hope is lost as the cop comes around the corner... and Arnold tells John to get down and shoots at the cops. His first line in the movie.

When this movie first came out, I bet the audience FLIPPED THEIR SHIT at this twist, but I was a) kinda tangentially aware of it from pop cultural osmosis and also b) that fake cop guy was HELLA SUSPICIOUS, so I'm just like... yeah!!! Because the only way to top being hunted by Arnold was to either a) BE HUNTED BY MULTIPLE ARNOLDS, or b) HAVE ARNOLD ON YOUR SIDE, and of course they went with the latter, because WHY NOT?

the cop's hit but gets back up, John is freaked out, and we the audience realize SOMETHING'S UP. A poor bystander gets murdered as the Terminator uses himself as a human shield to save John, who is screaming...

Arnold busts him into the voltage room out of the way and we have a Terminator on Terminator shoot-out, which is kinda incredible, except that Arnold has a bigger gun, so he gets to keep shooting while the police dude tries to recover from the impact.

That moment where the bullet holes are all silver-y as the police guy re-heals himself, and the CGI is obviously early '90s, but still quite effective and horrifying. And then he gets back up and they start grappling and going through walls AND NOW THEY'RE IN THE '90S MALL, OH MY GOD.

John Connor, not surprisingly, gets the fuck OUT. I wonder if Sarah told him what the Terminator looks like, and if he's surprised to see it defend him?

THE LIQUID METAL TERMINATOR LOOKING AT THE SILVERY-SKINNED MANNEQUINS IN THE MALL DISPLAY OH MY GOD.

LOL random dude snapping photos with his SLR he just happens to be carrying around.

John's motorcycle won't start for reasons of DRAMA, lol.

God, this new Terminator can run freakishly fast, it's inhuman.

Of course no one is going to question a cop chasing anyone, sigh...

(I feel like this movie works eerily well for social commentary in 2019 on SO MANY LEVELS.)

The running terminator runs up to a moving truck and tosses out the driver and keeps driving... wow.

ok, this is all great, but I really want more Sarah, where is Sarah in all this, will she ever talk to another woman in this movie PROBABLY NOT. How about more Kyle Reese flashbacks/dream sequences, can we have those? I am but a simple soul.

Okay NOW there's a chase scene in the Los Angeles riverbed.... that little tiny rivulet in the midst of all that concrete is the river. SOB.

Well, I gotta hand it to the human resistance for sending a Terminator after another Terminator, but it also works because JOHN CONNOR LIVED THROUGH THE EXPERIENCE AND REMEMBERS WHAT THE HELL HIS FUTURE SELF DID... timey-wimey paradox ball...

OH MY GOD THAT LEAP AS ARNOLD'S MOTORCYCLE LEAPS INTO THE RIVERBED. No wonder this movie is so frikkin' famous.

John Connor's bike getting run over by the truck is SO a callback to that tiny little toy truck getting run over by the Terminator in T1...

I like how the police Terminator is so focused on John Connor to the exclusion of ignoring the other Terminator unless he's actively in the way. The intensity in his blue-eyed stare is FANATICAL and inhuman and I love it because it's so gosh darn creepy.

Arnold shoots out the truck's tires, and it catches on FIRE. i love how arnold is prepared to shoot anything that comes out of the flames, but they've bought themselves at least a little time. Of course the CGI silver man comes out of the flames as soon as they leave and melts back to normal. He looks like the frikkin' Oscars statue, only silver.

Even his clothes regenerate back on, which raises interesting and troubling questions as to WHY since he couldn't just re-generate his clothes back on when he came out of the sphere, he had to steal them. I have no clue why this is.

Of course, Arnold and John stop in an alleyway to have their conversation. JOHN KNOWS THIS IS A TERMINATOR, OH MY GOD. (Do you think he feels bad for bad-mouthing Sarah earlier now??)

I think Arnold's talked more in this scene than he did in the entirety of T1, lol. The irony of him being John's father-figure now is just priceless, really.

John handles this much better than Sarah in T1, precisely because this is pretty much EXACTLY WHAT HIS MOM'S BEING TELLING HIM FOR AGES, so at least he has a FRAMEWORK for weird shit like this.

John Connor fighting alongside his own father and re-programming a Terminator to BE HIS OWN ADOPTED FATHER FIGURE OH MY GOD. No wonder he's so fucked up.

Arnold: "The T-1000 would definitely try to re-acquire you there." John: "You sure?" Arnold: "I would."

BAM. That's cold. I love it.

They go to a phone booth, and John doesn't have any quarters because he used them all at the arcade. He's going to try to warn his foster parents because he's not a complete asshole, but I... don't think the T-1000 is interested in killing them? Like, they already cooperated with this dude because he was in uniform. John doesn't seem to GET that not everybody responds to police the way he does.

Arnold slamming the machine to get more quarters is AMAZING and the look on John's face is PRICELESS. Also, parallels to his robbing the ATM earlier...

John's foster parents have a German shepherd that won't stop barking, oh this isn't good... the foster dad doesn't like the dog, which is further proof he's an asshole.Oh, wait, it’s John’s dog, this is probably the same dog we saw with Sarah at the end of T1 or its successor, ahhhhhhhh.

I really feel for Janelle. I feel like she's stuck in a relationship with this asshole Todd, and she deserves better and she's probably going to die, and I'm gonna feel bad about it.

Then we hear a gun cock, and she sticks her arm out, and we realize that holy shit, it's the Terminator mimicking Janelle's face as well as her voice, just like the Terminator did with Sarah's mother in T1, and we realize THAT's why she's being so OOC to John over the phone...

Arnold takes over the call and starts mimicking John's voice. John just stares. I think he's starting to get it.

The T1000 doesn't know the name of the dog. Arnold hangs up and tells John his foster parents are dead. Well, fuck. At least Janelle is dead. Too much to hope that the T1000 didn't just tie her up in the spare bedroom and Todd will find her later after "Janelle" goes to look for John? Sigh.

Nope. No luck. Todd is dead and the T1000 has shifted its arm to be a FRIGGIN' SWORD. Fuck, I didn't know they could do that.

This is supposed to be played as black comedy, but it's just horrific, really, even if the dude was an asshole.

Okay, I get it, the T1000 didn't steal the original cop outfit, he just mimicked it? along with the appearance? That's why he only took the gun. Only the earlier models needed to actually steal clothes.

Oh, good, we cut to Arnold explaining all this to John. Thanks, Cameron!

Oh, and now the T1000's going to kill the dog, right? Because it can. Sigh. And the dog's name is on the collar, so it knows that John knows that it wasn't really Janelle on the phone OR it was talking to a Terminator instead. Clever. Poor doggie. IT WAS TRYING SO HARD. IT DESERVED BETTER.

Sarah is being shown photos of the original Terminator from T1 from the security footage at the police station. Apparently, they saw him on mall footage, too. The police are mad that Sarah has no reaction and I'm like... you spent years telling her she was crazy, and NOW you want stuff from her?? Sigh. Is this the drugs that are responsible for her apathy or is it something else? I think she's contemplating her next move...

Silbermann being an ASSHOLE about it...

Honestly, not sure I blame Sarah for not cooperating given how she's been treated thus far... she knows from experience that even the most well-meaning officers are functionally useless against a Terminator because they don't really GET IT.

But she gets a paper clip. And knowing Sarah, that's all she needs to pick a lock and GTFO.

John says he grew up in Nicaragua as Sarah studied from paramilitary officers throughout Central and South America. He uses the word "shack up," which implies Sarah traded lessons for sex, but I hope... she found some sort of comfort there? It's clear from her hallucination she still desperately loves Kyle. SOB.

John realizes he's been an asshole about Sarah all this time because she WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG. The whole theme of this series is that pretty much everyone except for Kyle TOTALLY BELIEVED SARAH WAS CRAZY, so it's nice to see John finally back on track again. He's younger, so he hasn't been indoctrinated into the patriarchy quite as hard as everyone else in this movie.

of course they're going to go try to bust her out, but she might be out on her own by the time they get there...

But of course the T1000 is going to try to get her so he can copy her and he's going to kill her after that, because that's standard operating procedure. I'm not sure how a T101 would necessarily know that, but maybe he ran into some in the future before he was sent back? Whatever, it sounds plausible.

"Fuck you! She's a priority to me!" YEAH, JOHN, YOU TELL 'EM!!

I like how all these random muscle dudes are all coming over to investigate when John starts shouting about being kidnapped... only to be so confused when he blows them off. I'm sure the T1000 will be around to question them later, of course.

Oh, T101 is programmed to obey John Connor... even the younger version. LOLOLOLOL.

John is such a little shit. YOU CALLED THOSE PUNKS OVER TO HELP YOU, WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH AN ASS NOW? All you had to do was say "Look, sorry, just a misunderstanding, we're good," and MOVE ON instead of this Macho power trip.

(I take back what I said about John and the patriarchy, btw.)

Oh my god, the random dude who tried to help his friend gets SHOT, WTF JOHN, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT, YOU STARTED THIS!!!

In which John Connor learns that Terminators are NOT toys. DAMN STRAIGHT YOU LITTLE PUNK.

Of course the police can get into the state mental hospital without question. The guard doesn't even check ID or ask questions, just waves him through. (It probably saves his life, though.)

AAAAAHHHH, the creepy guard is assaulting Sarah when she's strapped down eww gross please no. I suppose I should be grateful it wasn't anything more graphic than him licking her face. She can't react because she's got the paper clip in her mouth.

(Kyle Reese would be so proud of her right now.)

Ahh, it's night, but everything's so brightly lit. This is going to be freakin' beautiful action scene.

Sarah ties her hair back! This is a symbolic gesture, of course, and a practical one, but also a huge question for me: what is she using for a hair tie? No way they gave her one... what is she improvising with?

AHHHH THE T1000 IS IN THE FLOOR HOLY FUCK THAT'S CREEPY. And that's how he acquired the guard when the guard walked over him. WOW.

So the gun on his hip when he originally shifts is a fake? It's part of him- because the T1000 can't make weapons. So he has to take the guard's gun. I think that's what happened?

It's going to be really hard for me to mourn when that asshole orderly that's assaulted Sarah gets what's coming to him. The only question is whether Sarah's going to get him first.

GOD SARAH CONNOR KICKING ASS IS SO SATISFYING. First the dude who assaulted her, and then Silbermann. Karma's such a bitch, isn't it?

John in his naivete order the T101 not to kill anybody, so he just shoots the guard in the legs instead. John, you'd better be more careful with your wording there....

Oh, goody, another underground parking garage...

Sarah comes face to face with the T101... awkward. She runs away before she sees John, only to get tackled. But the T101 comes to her rescue.

The female guard is the only one to bother him by knocking his shades off, lol.

AAHHHHHH THE TERMINATOR TELLS HER WHAT KYLE REESE SAID TO HER BECAUSE ADULT JOHN CONNOR TOLD HIM IT WAS THE ONLY WAY TO GET HER TO TRUST HIM (and also a freakin' great callback!!!)

Silbermann is watching the whole thing go down, he's probably going to spill it all to the T1000, of course...

Of course the T1000 just walks through the bars. Holy shit Silbermann is never going to get over the fact that Sarah was right all along. This is going to totally break him. Either that, or he'll double down on it.to save face. The only reason he survives is because he stays close to the wall and nobody cares enough to stop and deal with him.

AHHH, THE CGI WHEN HIS HEAD SPLITS OPEN IS BOTH TOTALLY FAKE AND ALSO HELLA CREEPY AND SILBERMANN IS WATCHING ALL OF IT, THEY'RE TOTALLY GOING TO LOCK HIM UP AFTER THIS OH MY GOD, KARMA.

Like, the uncanny valley of '90s CGI totally WORKS here, because it's just so fucking creepy. But it's also another sign that this is action and not horror, because action is less focused on blood and guts and gore--the reality and effects of violence.

Oh, good, they steal a car, because they weren't all going to fit on the motorcycle.

The T1000 has given up all subtlety now, and is just a giant silver amorphous human now. Oh, wait, now they ran out of money and he's human again.

LOLOLOLOL Sarah and T101 making John reload in the back seat because OF COURSE HE KNOWS HOW TO DO THAT, HE'S SARAH'S KID.

Sarah Connor is in her friggin' ELEMENT NOW, boys and girls.

god, it's like crossing the Terminator with Freddie Krueger or something (I almost typed "Freddie Mercury," and that's an interesting slip, given how much like mercury the silver goo reminds me of...)

Ahhh, Sarah hugs John and then lectures him for being stupid and reckless, and John just wants love and support... awwwww, he's trying so hard. I love Sarah, and she loves her son, but they don't always connect...

John doesn't want his mom or the T101 to see him crying, because patriarchy. Sigh.

The T101 sewing Sarah up is such a delicious callback to T1 on so many levels. And then she sews HIM up, oh my god.

BRAIN SURGERY ON A TERMINATOR, WOW.

The CPU of a Terminator is what's in the lab at Cyberdyne that they're experimenting on... which is going to become the core of Skynet... NO WONDER IT TRIES TO KILL EVERYONE, IT'S A FUCKING TERMINATOR AT HEART, IT'S ONLY DOING WHAT IT WAS PROGRAMMED TO DO!!!!

(this explains SO MUCH, honestly)

I wish John asserting his independence was NOT another example of a man telling Sarah Connor what to do, thank you very much. And I hate how she's literally relegated to the back seat, ugh. This is a great example of how horror tropes are more feminist-friendly than action.

John deigning to give his mother money is the most obnoxious thing ever, good for Sarah snatching it out of his hand, counting it, and handing him back a handful. We're supposed to find him endearing and relatable and I just keep wanting to smack him for his sexist bullshit.

Children playing with fake guns at the gas station, like that isn't symbolic of anything. John's seen too much now to take it lightly. Compare the children playing on the playground earlier in the movie with this.

wow, I’m still only halfway through the movie, who knew this was so deep

#Movie Reviews #terminator 2 #terminator

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

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today on the TNT loop (which I slept through because migraine which is mildly better now, so I'm watching the blu ray today), 2.13 Houses of the Holy. Aka that one where Dean's skepticism is put to its first real challenge and he's left with a HUGE question he can't answer. It's also where I can clearly see Chuck at work in the narrative, directly challenging Dean's beliefs and forcing him to consider this.

DEAN: That's cute. I'm just saying, man, there's just some legends that you just, you file under "bullcrap". SAM: And you've got angels on the bullcrap list. DEAN: Yep. SAM: Why? DEAN (looks up): Because I've never seen one. SAM: So what? DEAN: So I believe in what I can see. SAM: Dean! You and I have seen things that most people couldn't even dream about. DEAN: Exactly. With our own eyes. That's hard proof, okay? But in all this time I have never seen anything that looks like an angel. And don't you think that if they existed that we would have crossed paths with them? Or at least know someone that crossed paths with them? No. This is a ... a demon or a spirit. You know, they find people a few fries short of a Happy Meal, and they trick them into killing these randoms

Troubled people are being visited by "an angel" giving them orders to carry out "divine will," stopping others from committing horrific acts against innocent people by killing them before they can hurt anyone else. Sam wants desperately to believe it's actually an angel, and he confesses to Dean that he does have faith in God and that he prays every day. We also learn that-- because Mary had faith, had always told Dean that "angels are watching over you"-- that Dean hasn't trusted in that faith since Mary died.

There's a lot in this episode that will become the framework for actual angels when they eventually show up, as well as Heaven itself. Think of this as a smaller-scale version of what we eventually learn Heaven is, in an "as above, so below" sort of way:

DEAN: But she seriously believes that she was ... touched by an angel? SAM: Yeah. Blinding light, feelings of spiritual ecstasy, the works. I mean, she's living in a locked ward and she's totally at peace.

But then they start looking into the person she killed, and discover a literal pile of skeletons buried in the man's basement.

SAM: So much for the innocent churchgoing librarian. DEAN: Yeah, well, whatever spoke to Gloria about this knew what it was talking about, I'll give you that.

But Dean is still convinced it's some sort of spirit, and not an actual angel. Sam desperately wants to believe.

DEAN: Huh. Well, I guess if you're gonna stab someone, good timing. I don't know, man, this is weird, you know? I mean, sure, some spirits are out for vengeance, but this one's almost like a do-gooder, you know? Like, like a -- SAM: Avenging angel? (DEAN turns away) Well, how else do you explain it, Dean? Three guys, not connected to each other, all stabbed through the heart? At least two were world-class pervs, and I bet if you dug deep enough on the other guy —

What they do discover is the connection between all the victims and angel-inspired killers. They all attend the same church, where a priest had been murdered for his car a few months earlier, right before these killings began.

So they go to the church to find the truth, under the false pretenses of wanting to join the parish. Irony much? Even after being caught out in the lie about the previous parish they attended, they persist.

FR. REYNOLDS: Yes. The victims were parishioners of mine, I'd known them for years. SAM: And the killers said that an angel made them do that? FR. REYNOLDS: Yes. Misguided souls, to think that God's messenger would appear and incite people to murder. It's tragic. DEAN: So you don't believe in those angel yarns, huh? FR. REYNOLDS: Oh, no, I absolutely believe. Kind of goes with the job description. SAM: (nodding to a painting on the wall) Father, that's Michael, right? FR. REYNOLDS: That's right. The archangel Michael, with the flaming sword. The fighter of demons. Holy force against evil. SAM: So they're not really the Hallmark card version that everybody thinks? They're fierce, right? Vigilant? FR. REYNOLDS: Well, I like to think of them as more loving than wrathful. But, uh, yes, a lot of Scripture paints angels as God's warriors. "An angel of the Lord appeared to them, the glory of the Lord shone down upon them, and they were terrified." (SAM nods, DEAN looks confused) Luke. Two nine.

(moment to remind everyone what Cas's opinion on Luke was, from 4.18, when Dean was incredulous about learning that Chuck was a prophet of the Lord to be protected: "You should've seen Luke." Apparently prophets are historically disaster humans...)

It's interesting that Sam and Dean come away from this conversation with such wildly different conclusions based on their own personal biases-- Sam's Faith vs Dean's Skepticism. And then after visiting Father Gregory's grave, it's Sam the "angel" chooses to speak to, using his will to believe against Sam, to manipulate him, just like he had with the other troubled people he talked into doing his bidding. Because that's what he'd done.

Father Gregory's spirit believed he was doing the Lord's will, using information gleaned from listing to confessions, and possibly gleaned after his death about the ongoing lives of these people. Like Sue Ann in 1.12, he chose troubled yet essentially good people (drug addicts, alcoholics, mentally ill people) to give this twisted shot at "redemption" to by committing murder in the name of God, killing people guilty of far, far worse crimes. And post 14.20, I'm wondering if his spirit wasn't given just a bit more info about certain members of his parish specifically to push Sam and Dean into their own crises of faith, especially considering what has come after this.

This episode has always been a game changer with Dean's experience throughout-- refusing to believe in anything he hasn't witnessed with his own eyes. And it's Sam's first test of his own faith in God that shakes his belief in a higher power when he's experiencing so much doubt in himself already. In some ways, we learn that it's his hope that God and angels and good things exist that powers him through his self-doubt, his feelings of unworthiness and impurity and his own confusing powers. We'll see this aspect of Sam's will to believe in God play out over and over again-- being tested by all his life experiences afterward, from learning about the demon blood by the end of s2, to his months without Dean developing his powers, to s4 in believing he can turn his demon-granted powers into something GOOD by saving people's lives... everything that leads to Sam's downfall is directly tied to his need to believe that a divine force he prays to is actually answering his prayers for help. Right on through desperately wanting to believe it was God talking to him in s11 (it was Lucifer), and believing that Chuck might actually help them deal with Jack by healing instead of manipulating and killing. It's 14.20 that finally shattered Sam's belief.

FR. GREGORY: You can't understand it now. But the rules of man and the rules of God are two very different things. SAM: Those people. They're locked up. FR. GREGORY: No, they're happy. They've found peace, beaten their demons. And I've given them the keys to Heaven. FR. REYNOLDS: No. No, this is vengeance, it's wrong. Thomas, this goes against everything you believed. You're lost, misguided. FR. GREGORY: Father. No, I'm not misguided. FR. REYNOLDS: You are not an angel, Thomas. Men cannot be angels. FR. GREGORY: But . . . but I, I don't understand. You prayed for me to come. FR. REYNOLDS: I prayed for God's help. Not this. What you're doing is not God's will. "Thou shalt not kill". That's the word of God.

Heck, Chuck's said a lot of things over the years, hasn't he? He simultaneously ordered the angels to watch over and protect humanity, while leaving instructions for the Apocalypse. Two orders that directly contradict one another, on a very basic level. Yes, thou shalt not kill, but... there's always that caveat of "no, they're happy! they found peace in death! heaven awaits the righteous and that's where they'll eventually find happiness and peace! life on earth is irrelevant in the face of eternal rest despite any and all suffering experienced while alive!"

eta: also, “Men cannot be angels.” Well, Jack may have proven that wrong, but he had to destroy their human souls and warp them into angel grace, just as destroying human souls to warp them into demon smoke makes them no longer human. When we didn’t know this was possible, it was more a theological curiosity, but now? We can see it for the sinister implication of the bigger picture at play on Chuck’s level of the narrative. And it’s chilling.

But Dean? He had to be crushed, to be brought to the point where he doubted everything he's ever stood for, be forced to doubt his own free will and identity through repeated possession and manipulation by Michael to be brought to the point where he would even be willing to sacrifice himself and Jack both in the belief that he truly had no other choice, that his lifelong belief in his own autonomy was a sham and that God's Will was the only force to be obeyed. And even then, gun raised to Jack's head, he couldn't submit. But that seed of doubt was planted in this episode, watching a series of events he could not explain nor justify with his current understanding of reality. He couldn't even explain what he'd seen to Sam.

All he could say in the face of having stopped this man from committing assault (and possibly worse), ending in a car chase where the man is impaled through his chest by a flying piece of pipe flung from a passing truck, was "Holy..." After which he's forced to confront the evidence of his own eyes and find an explanation for what he's seen on his own. He still isn't comfortable declaring it's proof that God exists and interfering in human events, but it shakes him:

DEAN: Gregory's spirit gave you some pretty good information. That guy in the car was bad news. I barely got there in time. SAM: What happened? DEAN: He's dead. SAM: Did . . . you? DEAN: No. But I'll tell you one thing. If . . . The way he died, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes I never would have believed it. I mean ... I don't know what to call it. SAM: What? Dean, what did you see? DEAN: Maybe . . . God's will.

The one thing Dean has yet to work out, once he's confronted with the reality of Angels, Heaven, and God's existence later down the line, is whether or not God's Will and God's Plans can even remotely be considered a good thing... and after 14.20, he's got the essential proof. "Good" and "Evil" become irrelevant in the face of that revelation. It becomes a case of Divine Manipulation vs Human Will, and the struggle for individual identity and free will in the face of some Grand Plan of the universe. Divine reward of peace and happiness in Heaven after a life of obedience and suffering? Nah, Dean wants his life back now. Screw the end of the road.

#spn 2.13 #spn 14.20 #s14 hellatus rewatch #it's spirals all the way down #spiders georg of the tnt loop #spn cosmology #that's what free will is #if you say 'mysterious ways' so help me i will kick your ass #spn 4.18 #spn 1.12

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succubused · 6 years

Text

truncated

//thanks to @shepgarrus who was the source of at least 70% of the conceptual framework for this

——

Hey, it’s me. Sorry I took so long to get back to you, it’s been. Well, I think I’d better tell you in person. You planning on coming back to the Citadel after this mission? I’m kind of jealous, I have to say. You’re out there blowing things up without me, and I’m down here, well. You know how C-Sec is. Tripping over red tape.

——

“Garrus?”

“Yeah?”

“You all right?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine.”

Her expression says a lot of things, and not one of them is I believe you.

“Really,” Garrus groans as he stretches out muscles cramped from hours hunched over a desk, typing fierce pleas into mountains of paperwork in a last-ditch attempt to get the clearance necessary to do his job. Of course, it has become apparent lately that Garrus and his employers hold vastly different ideas about what his job is. “It was just a long week.”

“You’re not your dad, you know,” she says. “He was cut out for this job. I’m not sure you are.”

Garrus chuckles. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“It isn’t a good or a bad thing. It’s just you. You hate C-Sec.” His mother shakes her head. “I never understood why you even took the job here in the first place.”

“Yeah…sometimes I don’t understand it, either.” He knocks back his glass of drossix in a single gulp and looks down at his hands. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask your opinion on. Semi-related.”

——

Sorry, you said you were bored. I think your words were “send me a message with a stupid joke or a dumb story or something because I swear I am about to lose my goddamn mind.” You trying to say you miss me, Shepard? That’s sweet. Actually, there was something I’ve been meaning to ask your opinion on. Semi-related.

——

“Yes?” She lowers her arm mid-waving down the waiter and looks at him seriously. If there was one thing about his mother that never changed, it was her ability to hold liquor. She’d had three glasses and she was barely even blinking. “What’s going on, Garrus?”

“Well, you know—”

“Spit it out.”

“Remember that ship I was on last year? The Normandy?”

“The Alliance ship.”

“Technically we were operating under the Council, but yeah.” He chuckles to himself, remembering the smirk Shepard wore coming out of the comm room that meant she’d just hung up on said Council. “Captain was a human. Shepard.”

“I remember her, yes. The Spectre.”

“Yeah, that’s her.” He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of a finger. “I mean, you know I’m frustrated with C-Sec.”

“I do.”

“And I felt like—I don’t know—when I actually had autonomy, with Shepard, I felt like what I did mattered more. I was able to help people more when I didn’t have to get fifteen different documents notarized to prove that giving said help wouldn’t cause an intergalactic political crisis.”

“Coming back here was never going to go well,” his mother comments after a pause.

“You’re probably right.” Garrus sighs.

——

But first, dumb story. Okay. Let me think. Okay, I saw, two of my coworkers, an elcor play a prank on a volus a couple of days ago. An actual prank. You know, for a species that can exclusively speak in a monotone, those guys really can hold grudges. And they’re petty, too. So this volus, he’d been making fun of the elcor every time she spoke, repeating whatever emotional indicators she was using sarcastically, basically just mocking her, you know? And she took it pretty well, I couldn’t even tell she was getting mad. I mean, I wouldn’t have been able to tell, unless she decided to let me know, I guess. Anyway, this volus, he’s pretty damn spherical, and has terrible balance to boot. So when he falls, he can’t stand up without help. And she’d seen this happen a few times, we all had.

But one day, guy had to come in early to get some paperwork or something done, I don’t know what the details were. But I do know that the elcor was on the security cameras leaving the office about 30 minutes before the volus got in, and 2 hours later we found him on the floor, yelling and rolling around with his arms and legs in the air because he’d slipped in—she used a human thing—olive oil, I think? You’d know what it was. I really wish I’d recorded it, you’d have thought it was great, especially since this volus is an ass. Of course he accused the elcor, but they couldn’t prove anything after I doctored the security footage. And don’t tell me you didn’t know I’d done that as soon as I mentioned the cameras. Of course I did.

——

“You want to ask her if you can rejoin the Normandy crew.”

Garrus blinks and looks at his mother. “I—”

“It’s not hard to see,” she says, a note of amusement in her voice. “You were happy there. You were in constant mortal danger and you were having the time of your life. I could hear it in the voice messages you left.”

——

It’s true. Of course it’s true. He misses it. He misses them. He really misses Shepard’s stupid jokes, like the time she’d tried to imagine what it would be like for them to try to speak to each other without translators and laughed so hard she made herself cry thinking about how it would sound. And he had been worried, because everything he knew about human physiology said they only cried when something was wrong.

Shepard had just laughed even harder at the expression on his face. “No,” she’d choked out finally. “No, they’re, good tears. Good ones.”

“I thought you guys only cried when you were upset.”

“Nah. I mean, no, we do, but this is different. Different molecular compositions of the tears, even, I read that once. Can you imagine that? Sad tears and angry tears and laughter tears all have different molecular compositions?”

——

“I just…I think it was the right fit for me. I was going to bring it up with her as soon as she gets back from this latest mission, with the geth, but I wanted—well, you know. Wanted to see what you thought.” He shrugs.

His mother laughs, mandibles flicking downward. “What I think? I think you’re an idiot for not doing this earlier. Go for it.”

“But Dad—”

“Your father won’t benefit from his son suffering in a job he’ll never be right for, and he won’t be any worse off for his son serving on a ship that fits him like a glove. He’ll live.”

Relief sweeps through him in a heavy wave. Maybe he’d just needed to hear someone he trusted say that it was a good idea and that he wasn’t completely unhinged for thinking of asking permission to join the crew of an Alliance vessel.

——

Anyway, what I wanted to ask you was

——

“You’re getting a message.”

“Am I?” He looks down at his omnitool. Captain Anderson?

Normandy destroyed. Shepard dead. Don’t believe what you hear on the news. Stand by for more info.

He actually laughs. Disbelief. “That’s not possible.”

“What’s not possible?”

And then every screen in the bar shifts to a photo of the Normandy.

“…that the Normandy SR-1 has been confirmed destroyed in action…”

“The Normandy?” His mother stares up at the image of the ship. “Isn’t that…?”

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah. It is.”

The phrasing only has one translation—

“…upon encountering unknown weapons systems that annihilated the ship’s defenses. The Normandy was operating in search of geth in the system, but it is currently unknown if they or any cohesive faction of a species are responsible for the decimation of the ship.”

—no survivors.

Destroyed. Annihilated. Decimated.

“Oh, Garrus,” his mother breathes. “Oh, no.”

“Mom,” he mutters. ”I—“

His entire body has gone numb. He drops his head into his hands. He can’t look at her.

“They haven’t said anything about the crew,” she says quietly.

“The crew?” Garrus doesn’t realize why he’s shaking until it’s too late to not ask the question. He hadn’t realized that he didn’t believe Anderson until he said it out loud.

“You don’t know anything for sure.”

A bright lancet of hope shoots through his chest.

“You’re right. Yeah. You’re, you’re right.”

He flinches when a second message comes in, expecting Captain Anderson, but it isn’t. It’s from Joker.

Joker was on the ship.

He almost doesn’t open it, wants to exist forever in this liminal space in which he is still permitted the cruel luxury of hope.

“What is it?” his mother asks, her eyes dark and worried. He wishes she wasn’t here to see this. He wishes he wasn’t here to see this. Every set of eyes in the bar is on those screens, as if they know that this is the end of the world, as if they have the slightest idea of how to care.

It’s a voice message, hoarse and cracked, but recognizable.

“Hey, Garrus. Uh, by now you probably, well, I don’t know if it’s on the news yet, but. It probably is, so. I’m, I’m off the ship right now, I’m okay, but…it was really bad down there, Garrus, you have to understand.”

The guilt in his voice turns Garrus’s blood to ice.

“Most of the crew escaped. Made it to the pods in time.”

Oh, thank—

“But Shepard…”

No.

“No,” he says hoarsely, out loud. As though Joker could hear him. As though refusing it could make it a lie, bring her back, he already knows what Joker is about to say. It’s like he’s dreamed of it before, like he’s already felt this before in a million truncated lifetimes, frozen solid by the horror in this disaster that was knowing the truth.

“It’s my fault, Garrus. I wouldn’t leave the, the, I thought I could save her. The ship, I mean. I wouldn’t get up. They tried to get me to move and I wouldn’t go and Shepard, she knew if I stayed I was done for and so she came and she fucking dragged me out of there, she came back for me.”

Of course you did.

“And she got me into an escape pod…”

But you didn’t think of yourself.

“But she—god, oh my God, it’s my fault—Trinity was spaced.”

Trinity.

He slams pause on the recording. He’s breathing too quickly.

“Garrus,” says his mother softly, the edge that so frequently sharpens her voice dissolved. He’d almost forgotten she was there.

“I can’t.” He shakes his head hard. “I can’t, Mom.”

A long moment of unbearable silence. Garrus restarts the message.

“Her suit was transmitting to the black box, I, I have the data. I wanted to believe she…but her suit…it malfunctioned. The oxygen systems went offline, life support failed a few moments later. She’s gone.”

Gone.

Trinity.

No.

“I’m sorry, Garrus,” his mother says. “I know you were close.”

“She’s my best friend,” he croaks.

Was.

“I know. I’m so sorry.”

Distantly he notices his mother has placed her hand on his arm. She’s watching him, saying something, the worry on her face unbearable. It’s as though he’s deep underwater, so deep the pressure is liable to crack his skull, and she’s on the surface, trying to reach him, but he can’t hear, and even if he could, he wouldn’t care, and all he can think about is that last message, the one she’d never hear. Cut off before he could finish. He had been about to ask her about the Normandy.

If I’d brought it up earlier, would I have been there? Would it have been me choking alone in the dark, Shepard in the escape pod? Could I have stopped this?

The screens have begun flashing Shepard’s picture in place of the Normandy’s, one that they took of her when she became a Spectre that she hated; she was always complaining that it “misrepresented her as some kind of uptight bitch.”

“…we now receive confirmation that Commander Trinity Shepard of the Alliance Military, Captain of the Normandy SR-1 and first human Spectre, has been declared missing in action and presumed dead.”

“Listen, there’s one more—we’re about to get picked up, so I have to, in a second, but we were getting data from her—from Trinity’s suit up until the—the backup systems failed. And we found…after she was spaced she…she was listening to an audio message. Her last command to the suit’s VI was to play it.”

Anyway, what I wanted to ask you was...

“It was from you. I thought you’d want to know.”

——

Anyway, what I wanted to ask you was about the Normandy. I’ve been thinking it might be a good idea for me to rejoin the crew, if you’re up for it. I know it’s an Alliance ship, but if you’re there, I don’t really care about that. I know I can work with you, and I know I can work with you well. And I felt like I did more good in the few months on that ship than I did in my whole damn C-Sec career and I really can’t justify going back to paper-pushing when I know you’re out there kicking ass without me. Like I said, it’s probably a better idea for us to talk about this in person, so let me know when you’re back at the Citadel. I’ll buy you a drink. Not drossix, though. I know you keep saying you want to try it but when we say it’ll explode your insides, we really aren’t exaggerating.

So, yeah. Come back safe. I’ll see you soon.

#mass effect #shakarian #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #femshep #i uhhhhh dont know what else to put #im back on my bullshit and im gonna be late for work because of this #punch me in the teeth #posts

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sagebodisattva · 5 years

Text

Interconnectivity of Reality and the Mind

So, the basic building blocks that compose the bedrock of the prison that is constructed around your mind, consist of many many tiny bits of conceptual mass that combine to form dense conceptualizations that become manifest as a belief that the mental state is but a byproduct of physicality. This is a learned belief that is so ingrained into the psyche of consciousness that there isn't even a need to teach this description. It has become the foundation upon which all subsequent inquires and explanations about reality are formulated. And this is exactly why all of these inquires and explanations are going to be false, no matter what the different specifics might be.

Rule of thumb, if you want to ensure that someone will never arrive at the truth, ensure that they begin with a false premise that is accepted without question as a default axiom. Once this is accomplished you can be sure that they will never find the truth, unless they somehow find their way back to questioning the premise, and this can usually be avoided by diversions, distractions and controlling both sides of the arguments that are taking place, of which, BOTH are based on the false postulation.

In other words, just sit back and let them endlessly argue both sides of a faulty pointless argument, and if anyone even shows a hint at questioning the false premise, distract and divert them with fear or excitement of some kind. Always encourage confirmation bias, and don't be the least bit shy about using an overabundance of sophist tactics and red herrings.

And this is exactly what has happened to human beings in this current paradigm. Atheism or theism? It doesn't matter. Physical vs metaphysical? It doesn't matter. The false premise at the root of all these arguments is that reality is an objective medium; that is, existing independently of the mind. And there is no way for you to argue against this, as your mind awareness is the only real sure thing you have that is undeniably self evidently true; that which is experiential, clear, ever-present, and already the case firsthand, before any such idea as a mind independent reality can even be considered... whereas objectivity is a leap of faith; speculative at best, and based on many assumptions that attempt to externalize projections into having some kind of separate existence of their own. This is called delusion; because it doesn't recognize a mirage as a mirage. Delusion is a state of mind that is being fooled; tricked into investment into the trappings of an illusion.

The inner connectivity of reality and the mind has been explored for thousands of years by a select few and has most certainly found to be the case, empirically. Whereas objectivity is merely an intellectual theory based on a false hypothesis. And you will notice, that any argument, any speculation, any assumption, any belief, any opinion, any observation, any measurement, any ideological proposition, all begin with I. They may try to refute the inner connectivity of reality and the mind, but that cannot do so without the context of a mind. So you are gonna hear: "I argue that" or "It is my speculation that" or "I put forth the hypothesis that" or "I believe that" or "it is my opinion that" or "based on observations, it is seen that" or "I have taken a measurement and found that" or "it is my idea that.”

So you see.. They cannot put forth a single argument or theory that isn't rooted first in a subjective context, and yet they want to ultimately infer that the subjective context is somehow a secondary offshoot of some objective framework. I would posit that objectivity is complete and utter fantasy, as neither one of the main commonly known held definitions of it are true. Objective, as in, (of a person or their judgment) not influenced by personal feelings or opinions in considering and representing facts, is not true, because there is no such thing as a subject that is not influenced by their own innate bias. People just pretend that this is the case to circumvent the cognitive dissonance that arises from being a biased subject put in a position of having to make an unbiased judgement. And then objective, as in, not dependent on the mind for existence; actual. Which is also bullshit.. as was eluded to earlier, and continuing on henceforth. About the only accurate definition of the word objective is: a thing aimed at or sought; a goal. Like, my current objective of deconstructing objectivity.

So this is why until you have flipped the script on the old description of reality, you really don't have anything all that relevant to add to philosophical discourse concerning the nature of existence. If you can't even get the initial foundation of the truth right, nothing you postulate or propose will have any real truth or value. If we have too much of an intense focus on dream narrative, or on how the superficial appearances arrange themselves, it is conducive towards not recognizing the individual as part of the dream. This is how people can direct their awareness past their own awareness and come up with an ass backwards conclusion that their own awareness is a byproduct of what their awareness is aware of, which is so profoundly off course it's perplexingly absurd. Do I need to run through all the possible arguments built on the false premise and deconstruct them all one by one? No, I don't, even though I still may in future videos; because, despite the redundant process of deconstructing one extraneous inventory item after another, there's still always another, right? And it doesn't matter how many times it's gone over, again and again. There's always another superficial appearance. No, it's illusion.

“Yeah, but what about another superficial appearance? And what about another superficial appearance? And what about another superficial appearance?”

Sigh. Look, point blank. The second you point outwards towards projected perceptibles and open your mouth to speak about it with some externalized supposition, you're already wrong, and this is why religion and science get it wrong every time. This is why there are so many holes and missing pieces and information that doesn't add up, or contradictions that seems to defy this or that. They are both starting from a false default assumption about reality, which involve the suggestion that some externally existing agency manifested reality. There is no god out there that magically created a universe, nor was there was a tremendous explosion out there, aka, the big bang, that magically created a universe, as there is no out there. No more out there then images on a film strip having an actual existence out there on a projection screen. It's a completely ridiculous assertion at this point. Not because a meditating Buddhist monk said so, not because quantum mechanics says so, not because a dream spirit representing god came through the window at night and said so, but because I know so, firsthand, through non-being, detached from the illusory ego. And I wouldn't expect anyone else to believe so until their true one self has also come to recognize itself.

“Oh Sage, but that's just a subjective experience.”

No it isn't. But speaking of which: what else are you, may I ask, but a subjective experience? And if you can really answer this question genuinely correct, then you will know the truth about the inner connectivity of reality and the mind; because knowing the truth has nothing to do with anything a dream character can experience. Clarity of awareness can increase, but it has nothing to do with the character. The dream character is part of the dream. In other words, lucidity isn't increased by anything the ego can do. And as I've said to before, besides the fact that "you" are not this ego, and that the ego is part of the dream, the aim of what I am pointing towards isn't about getting rid of the ego or the world. It's about dropping the attachments to ego and the world.

So, you see, there isn't any contradiction nor exceptions. Lucidity reveals that anything the ego references in inventory is wholly illusion, and this outside awareness is facilitated because there's no attachment to illusion formed by a false identification. Whereas, the common man can't accept this, and fights it with every fiber in his being. But, as the old saying goes, the truth can set you free, but most people still reject the truth because they want a sugar coating on it. The truth can set you free? What does that even mean? Just as Pontius Pilate, the noble Roman governor, purportedly asked Jesus Christ, to which Jesus had no answer:

“What is truth?"

So... what is truth? And how can that set you free? The truth isn't anything found out there. You ARE that truth, which is uncovered when we finally sever binding attachments and false identifications with the perceptibles of illusion.

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letterstomyexboyfriends · 6 years

Text

Letters to my ex-boyfriends #1

The Narcissist

I remember the first time I met you. Me, at a foam party, having the time of my life with my best friend. You, scoffing at the sides, having been dragged there by some mandatory social construct. Social constructs were always your thing anyway, obligations, doing this because you thought you should. Because in your mind doing them made you a perfect person. Oh how you were delighted to find me, the opposite of what you wanted. How delighted you were to feel superior to me, and me, teenage me, suffering from something on the opposite side of a God-complex, saw in you the confirmation of everything that was in my head. And I believed you. I saw in you the leader to my life I could never be, I saw in you my saviour from the lostness that was me. I saw in you the one who knows what he’s doing, who knows what’s up. Little did I know, the only thing climbing the ladder was you. And so the lost in a world of feeling second-rate teenager fell head over heels for you. The one who made her feel just exactly like that.

The fact that someone else loves you doesn’t rescue you from the project of loving yourself.

— Sahaj Kohli

Do you have any idea what it feels like to feel utterly worthless? To feel like you’ve no purpose on this earth, that you’re here only because your mother’s vagina decided to spit you out sometime because even that didn’t want you any more? Do you? I guess not. Because no, you think the world of yourself. You are so goddamn smart. And nice. And wonderful. Successful too, aren’t you a dream, huh. So then how come nobody likes you. No really. How come? Because they are too stupid to like you, you say. And I believed you. It was like I was part of the cult that was you, doe-eyed and misguided. Because you are smart. O yes, I’ll never deny that. But just because you’re smart doesn’t give you the right to make people feel like the ants on your shoes. Just because your smart, doesn’t give you the right to close your eyes to every other opinion, view, logical framework out there. Or maybe it does, who am I to tell you who to be.

It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows. — Epictetus

You never said it, no. But you made me feel it. Every goddamn day I was with you. How everything I did, thought, wanted, needed and breathed was useless, ridiculous and stupid. How you were the emperor of success and I was a rock at the bottom of a river. Rolled down by the grace of the water. Oh how I was lucky to be with you, you never failed to remind me. And I believed you, because you were so smart and so successful and everything you said made sense and everything I said was dismisseable. If I wanted cheese on a sandwich you would even talk me out of it, and I let you. Because I respected you. And I respected your opinion. And in the end I just didn’t care enough about the cheese to fight for it and it was easier to just agree, to just say ‘yeah, you’re right, cheese really does belong on a tosti and not a sandwich.’ Nothing I felt existed unless you decided it did. If it didn’t fit into your logical framework, it could not exist. My feelings were never valid, as yours always were. And I let you. Because I looked up to you, and I had hope. You’d say I’d drive you crazy if I’d be near you for more than two weeks, you’d say you didn’t feel like ‘me’ today and that I should leave. You’d ignore me, sitting sadly on your bed feeling miserable about failing exams, because you just didn’t do feelings. And I should quit my whining.

I was quiet, but I was not blind

— Jane Austen

How you loved talking about yourself, how you indulged in my interest in your life. Because I cared, I listened to you, I asked you how your day was even when I was down and I’d listen to your endless ramblings about things I knew nothing about. Really listen. And I was happy for you, because it made you happy. Because if you’re happy, I’m happy, right? That’s how it works, right? But if I’m ever happy happy it must be because of one of those stupid loser things I do, those useless redundant contributions to life you think are below your snobbish little materialistic standards. Oh sure, you love your new designer green floors, but not the way the proximity of a dog makes me light up. Because dogs suck, right? And I am stupid for liking them. never would you pass up on an opportunity to talk down all that I was and all that I loved. Never addressing me personally, no. But I felt it, the wrath of your harsh judgement on what I felt was my soul. Chipping away at it, bit by bit, until I’d remain paralysed in your view of what I should be.

You think that disapproving glare works on me after after all the times I’ve seen it?

— Carter to Captain Mitchell, Power Rangers Lightspeed Rescue

You have a job, a real job. And wouldn’t you ever let anyone forget it. And your field of study is the only field of study that matters, the only one that’s actually worth a dime, right? And because you have a job, a real job, anyone doing anything else is dismissible and useless to you. But guess what, you can be a jerk regardless. Even with a job, you’re just a jerk with a job. And while you were at it, my field of study was a complete joke. Of course. I recently watched an episode of the big bang theory where Sheldon tells his girlfriend just how useless her field of study is and how superior his is and you know what, that is just what you are. Selfish and unnecessarily harshly entitled.

You’re sick of me but I won’t blame you. I blame myself for everything.

— Despondent

But you know, I blame myself. I blame myself for dating you, because I knew exactly what you were. I blame myself for staying with you, because I saw exactly what you did. I blame myself for blaming you, because it’s not your fault that I’m stupid enough to stay. I blame myself for not accepting you the way you are and for wanting you to change. I stayed because I had hope, I hoped that one day your words would ring true. That one day the words I care and I love you would show and not just reverberate as useless syllables in my head. They always say optimistic people are stupid and negative people less disappointed. You know, they’re right. Because if I’d wanted to see the bad in you and not the good then I would’ve left you a long time ago. I would’ve known that you don’t know what the word love or care means, tht you only take and have no ability to give. It’s not your fault, it’s just who you are. And it’s my fault for asking you for it, when I should’ve known you could never deliver. I would’ve known that those words would never mean anything, that your condescending, dismissive, haughty attitude towards me meant that you liked my attention. But that you never liked me. Nor loved. Because this is not how you treat the people you love, or maybe YOU do. But this, this is not enough and too much all at once.

Don’t be pushed around by the fears in your mind. Be led by the dreams in your heart.

— Roy T. Bennett_ The light in the heart

But you know, I love me too and I love me too much to stay with you. To let you destroy me. Because I love you and that gives you the power to destroy me. That means I respect your opinion, I take it to heart and care about it. And I’m worried that if I stay with you any longer and listen to you drill me into the ground day after day, that I’ll start believing you. And to me that’s the worst thing, to see myself as you see me. To change into all tat I’m not by melting into your favourite cheeseless mold. You do not make me smile when I am down, I do. Because if I am down you blame me for it, dismiss it as if anything not logical to you is pishposh and leave me there to wither.

Giving up doesn’t always mean your weak sometimes your just strong enough to let go

— Taylor Swift

I remember when I finally saw myself for what I was, having outgrown my teenage existential crisis the world seemed bluer than before. And friendlier. And me, I was friendlier to me. And friendlier me would not let you talk to me like I had done for so long, because I’d done nothing to deserve it. Only be myself and not what you so desperately wanted me to be. You. I realised I wasn’t what you thought of me and the world wasn’t as you preached it to be. And I gave up on you. I’m sorry, I had to give up on you. I know that I am your only hope and I know you know, but you are my one and only downfall and leaving you will be my only hope. I’m sorry, because I know you can’t understand me as I can you. I’m sorry for making you feel like I would stay, even tough I feel like I shouldn’t be sorry after everything you did. But you didn’t do it to spite me, or at least I’d like to believe you did not. You do not know any better nor can you accept any other view on it. Ever since you I’ve have a memo plastered to my wall, it reads simply: ‘Does he make you feel good about yourself?’ To remind me of my time with you, every day. To remind me to never fall for it again. To never fall for you again, in any form. Because with you, the answer was and will forever be no. I’ve always respected you as a person and let you be yourself and you never cared to reciprocate. You never failed to let an opportunity pass by to smash my interests, my passions, my thoughts, my sense of being right into the floor. Because if it’s not logical to you, it should not exist. And thanks to you, I will try and help myself feel again. Help myself feel like my feelings matter and my feelings get to exist despite what people think of them. That I get to be afraid of driving on a dark road surrounded by low-hanging trees, even though it’s just driving. And I will try to get your voice out of my head. And someday I will. You know what, I felt something, and based on it I made an entirely logical decision. And now you don’t get to exist.

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crossinggalaxies · 6 years

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You and agl03s theories have been pretty spot on, so Im sending you the same message i just sent her haha. But could you give some short theories on where everyone is mentally and physically (the team & deke, enoch, tess and flint).

Oh god thanks! @agl03 is my favorite blog on here so I appreciate even being grouped into something with her. Honestly anyone who doesn’t follow her should. She has been hitting the speculation and theories out of the park w/ some pretty big stuff.

To answer your question, I’ll try my best but I don’t have too much to go on.

Enoch: I think he’s dead. I think that when you have a character death happen on the show, one of two things have to happen for it to be real. 1. You see it fully/There’s a goodbye. 2. They do something that leaves a lasting impact that makes their life and existence mean something. Enoch filled in the last box massively. He spent his whole life, thousands of years, as an observer. His last moments involved him taking part in the story he spent so long watching, to help his “friends” and to help save the world. He was as human as ever. They made a point with his death. And I think a part of him reveled in his death a bit because he was experiencing something so utterly human. I think he might be mentioned again. And I am slightly hesitant because we didn’t see it completely. And there’s a small part of me that thinks it would be HILARIOUS if Enoch and Deke ended up in the same place together and had a momentary spin off adventure in the show. But I think he’s gone. RIP my plastic friend.

Flint & Tess: I’m grouping them together. I really thought Flint would get a goodbye scene with Mack and Yoyo so there is a medium sized part of me that thinks he might Cameo towards the end of the world debacle that is sure to still happen. But at the same time that ending felt very much like a gentle send off. Tess hinting at him fixing the world, as they watched what looked like pieces flying back to the surface. HOWEVER I am going to go out on a limb here and say we will see Flint again. Tess Idk, but Flint I think we will. He didn’t get the goodbye I think we were all expecting, and Coy Stewart has been reblogging a lot of tweets by people mentioning that they think we’ll see him again. But if it does end w/ the way it did, that’s okay. I just think Mack will take it hard.

Deke: He’s alive and well.Thats not even a question. I will say that line that Coulson said about him thinking Deke’s parents would be proud has me thinking he might be FS kid and not grandkid due to some timey whimey BS. But Im still leaning more towards grandkid. But yeah he’s alive and well. He totally got blasted to a different place. Should be interesting to see how he makes it back to the team. I think mentally he has changed a lot. He was originally a person skeezy enough to give daisy up without her having a say in the matter to some villain to own her to sacrificing himself for everyone and the future of humanity. I think he will continue to be as sassy/fitzlike as ever, but that he really is moving in a good direction. I also think that maybe when the team find him that he will be hurt. Maybe some blood tests are run. Maybe some things are revealed. I also think that him leaving the show, whenever that happens will be due in part to some time issue related to him sticking around in a period where he will one day exist (like double).

Jemma: I think she’s going to be pregnant soon. I think she’s gonna be married soon. I think that look exchanged over Fitz killing those Kree was just the writers trying to reintroduce her concern from the trauma of the Framework so there can at least be some conversation about it without it feeling random. I think maybe FS will have a pre wedding talk, and part of it will be touching on how Fitz feels post frame work. I don’t think angst is happening. I think conversation will happen. And from that confirmation of growth.

Fitz: I don’t predict much for this other than what I already mentioned for Jemma that correlates to him as well (wedding/baby). I think he also will bring up again how much he missed her and how happy he is to be back in their time w/ her there with him. And maybe some post framework talk wrap up.

Daisy: She’s gonna be mad probably (my guess for why she isn’t seen in the opening scene of the promo, that or she’s still knocked out). She’s gonna feel guilty. I don’t think she’ll run away again because she acknowledged that was wrong to fitz. But Im waiting on more to guess about her case. I do think that she’s not responsible for the end of the world.

Mack & Yoyo: They are gonna be upset over Finn. They are gonna have a talk and then probably a momentary (brief) secret shared about Coulson, who they may let know that they too know and then briefly keep it from the team. I think we might be able to see them say bye to Flint in an official capacity.

Coulson: The big one. He’s dying. Uh-oh. To be honest i have no idea what’s gonna happen. I think he’ll find out he’s the cause possibly for the end of z world, and he’ll try to hide it or prevent people from helping him. But they will anyways, but they’ll find a loop hole and fix things. Or shit, ghost rider may make a brief appearance (its an instant fave and ratings booster). Or he may die and then they find a way to bring him back. Again, which Im sure will be traumatic if it does happen.

And those are my not so short theories/input in reference to the characters. Hope that was, something lmao.

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hepaidattention · 7 years

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Remembering Back

For that little spark of hope that you know is dead but you still can’t help but hope anyway...

Characters: Fitz and Simmons

Setting: Framework

Jemma rushed down the hall, avoiding all security guards. Since she was basically the walking dead in the Framework, she figured it would end very badly if she was caught and then ID’d. Taking another glance behind her down the hall, she suddenly found herself running into something hard in front of her, recoiling her back. She shook her head, her eyes seeing the ground. Those shoes.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the voice resonated in her ears. “Not really paying attention, am I?”

It was him. It was him. Oh god, finally, it was him! Jemma jerked up her head, a grin covering her face. “Fitz,” she said in a soft breath.

Fitz just stared at her. However, much to her surprise, the stare wasn’t a blank slate of ‘do I know you?’ In the Framework they had never met, ever. Yet, the way he was looking at her, it was like he knew her.

“S… Simmons?”

Jemma let out a chuckle of awe and of the humor in him calling her Simmons. Somewhere along the lines of their relationship Jemma was called her first name by Fitz than ever Simmons. She didn’t know what to say, but the way he was looking at her, she decided to hug him. She flew her arms around his neck, holding onto him with dear life. They had been torn apart again, and this was about the time for her to refuse to ever let go.

Fitz was unresponsive at first, but then, slowly, his arms tightened around her until he was hugging her tighter than she was hugging him. She buried her face into his neck, smiling to herself. Finally, she said, “God I missed you.”

She felt a tear from him running down her neck as he held onto her with a death grip. She had a feeling he still didn’t fully remember her, but the way he was holding her, he was thinking the same. He was never letting go again.

But as fate may have it, Jemma’s phone buzzed in her front pocket. This causing an odd sensation for both of them, they pulled apart. Jemma looked at her phone to see Daisy texting her: she found him.

“Um,” Fitz mumbled to her. She looked up, seeing his teary eyes. His mouth was open to say something, but instead he took her hand and led her away from the public hallway. She had no idea where they were going, and she really knew she probably shouldn’t trust this Fitz – she had no idea what Aida had programmed him as. No matter what though, this wasn’t the Android-Fitz. This was Fitz, her Fitz, just with completely different memories.

After going up some stairs they seemed to stop and stay stopped in some sort of closed off meeting room. It actually resembled the SHIELD base, oddly enough.

“How…” Fitz started, scratching the back of his head as he just gazed at her. “Do I know you?”

Jemma laughed. If he hadn’t said her name and hugged her like he did, then she’d probably be devastated right now. But she knew, this was Fitz trying to understand the impossible.

“You certainly seem to.”

Fitz stared as he tightly crossed his arms across his chest. Jemma smiled. She had missed him so much, even his mannerisms were bringing a smile to her face. At last he spoke. “I’ve never met you before in my life.” He stated. “But … when I look at you…” He sighed, trying to wrap his mind around it. “It’s like memories of something that’s never happened come to mind.”

Jemma nodded. “It’s Radcliffe’s programming. I’m not a part of this world, I’m supposed to be dead. Because of that I’m almost acting as a virus…” Jemma said that more to herself than to Fitz. He was looking at her like she was insane. “Would you believe me if I said you were in a world created by a computer, and everything that’s happening isn’t physically real, but in our heads?”

Fitz scoffed. “No.” Jemma sighed. How could she convince him? “At least, normally.” He added. “But, considering the moment I saw you I had at least ten different memories of you swimming through my head, all of which had never happened to me, then, yeah.” He let out a short exhale. “Maybe.”

A smile crept up on her face. “I’m Jemma Simmons, and, well I’m your girlfriend. In real life, that is.”

Fitz paused.

“Yeah, well, my dad calls me Leo. Never really liked it much.”

“Well, then it’s nice to meet you, Fitz. I’m –”

“Simmons, I know.”

She smiled at him. “That’s my last name. My first name is Jemma.”

“Oh, sorry –”

“No, actually, its fine. ‘Simmons’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

He blinked, seeing Jemma staring at him with a worried expression. “Fitz? Are you okay?”

“Fitz, thank god you’re okay! You couldn’ve been killed! Or worse!”

Fitz chuckled a little. “What could be worse than being killed?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Being stranded on a desert planet, or dying and being turned into a walking parasite? Or even -”

“All right, all right, I’m fine, okay? Nothing happened. Didn’t even get a scratch.”

She sighed, embracing him in a hug. “Don’t ever do that again. Please.”

“Fitz?” Jemma voiced, stepping closer to him.

“Fitz!?”

“Jemma!”

Their hands met, their fingers curling around each other just so they can hold on.

“Fi-”

“Stop - just stop talking. Please.” Fitz let out a graveled breath, his breathing heavy. “Every time you speak, some brand new, yet seemingly old memory comes to me.” He rubbed his temple, his brows furrowed. “I’m getting a bloody headache.”

“I’m sorry, I-”

“I’m so sorry, Fitz.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you.”

Fitz shook his head, grabbing her hand in comfort. “No, you couldn’t help it. I know you didn’t want to be stuck on that planet any more than I wanted you back –”

“Not the planet, Fitz. Before that. What’s worse was me deceiving you on why I left – I should’ve told you-”

“Jemma,” he gave her hand a squeeze, smiling at her. “All that matters is you’re here now, safe, healthy, and … with me.”

Jemma gave him a loving smile.

“Oh, I did it again, didn’t I? Lord, I’m so sorry-”

Fitz groaned. “It’s fine. I just need to get used to a migraine for now on.”

“No, Fitz,” she stepped up close enough to him now that she could reach for his hand. She gripped his palm, dozens of memories of them holding hands flashing across his mind. “We can get out of here. I came here so I could get us out, back to reality. Back home where we’re working on an apartment together, and where we work at the lab together, side by side, every day.”

“Every minute of every day we’ve been beside each other. At the Academy, at Sci-Ops, this plane. You’ve been beside me the whole damn time!”

Fitz looked up from their hands, his eyes finding hers. He watched her, searching her eyes for something. “If this is all in my head, then how do I know you’re not just my minds way of trying to just snap me out of it?”

Jemma shrugged. “Well, I guess you don’t. But no matter what, you can be comforted to know you’re still trying to get out of this prison, of sorts.”

“How do I know you don’t really exist, outside of this world? How do I know this life isn’t better than the one you claim we have?”

Jemma took in a deep inhale, intently looking at their intertwined hands. She finally looked up, meeting his eyes again. “You once told me that you couldn’t live in a world without me in it.”

“Fitz, please. Just let them kill me.”

“No, I won’t. I can’t do that. I’m just … I’m just not strong enough to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it.”

“I always knew that was an exaggeration, because – well you, you have always been so strong. You always looked ahead, looked at the future. You never let anything bother you ‘till the point that it made you break. But me? I knew I couldn’t – I can’t. I had been stuck on a desolate planet for hardly even a month and contemplated letting myself die, or doing it myself, so it would be quick. I was never as strong as you – and honestly, Fitz, now that we’ve been together for so long, I don’t think I could be able to live without you. Not again.” Tears streamed down her face. Fitz reached up with his free hand and used the back of his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears from her cheeks. “Please,” she begged him, catching his other hand in hers. “Just trust me, and let me bring you home.”

All Fitz could see now was a memory of Jemma looking up at him, tears pooling her eyes, him tucking her loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Come back to me.”

He decided to speak. “You’re wrong.” Jemma looked at him hurt and confused, her eyes darting back and forth, trying to read him. He shook his head and said, “There’s no way in hell I could live without you.”

Jemma let out a scoffing laugh, a watery smile covering her face. “You technically already did.” She said with a smirk, gesturing around the room.

“Doesn’t count.” He smiled at her. “’You don’t know what you’re missing until you find it,’ or something like that?”

Jemma smiled back and embraced him again, this time firmly enveloping her arms around his rib cage and laying her face on his shoulder. He bound his arms around her, resting his head on hers. But then, reality hit Fitz again. He didn’t even know this person – yet, he loved her?

Jemma looked up at him, almost as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Without any words spoken, she reached up her hand, her fingers running through his hair on the back of his head. She eyed his lips, but she didn’t make another move. It was like she was waiting for him to take the lead.

“And you drove through a hole in the universe for me!”

He blinked, gazing at her. He couldn’t believe half of the memories that bled through his mind, but on top of that, he could barely comprehend the emotions that came alongside them.

“Do you think that you can brave it?”

“I’ll do my best to power through.”

Fitz leaned in, closing the gap between them. His lips met hers, and the moment they collided a thousand memories flooded his mind. The overwhelming deluge of emotions just made him want to kiss her all the more. He enfolded his arms around her waist, drawing her as close to him as he possibly could. –

Fitz eyelids jolted open, a deep gasp coming from his mouth. His blurred vision could see very little, but the longer he tried, the longer he could make out his surroundings. He was… hooked up to something? Trying to move his hands around, his muscles weak from lack of use, he turned his head to see Coulson, Mack, and May all lined up on his right. All asleep. All hooked up to –

They were hooked up to the Framework. He lifted his head, seeing the empty room. All he could remember was being on a mission, trying to find Radcliffe. He was collecting old computer parts and …. Then he saw Aida. Aida did this. He looked to his left, expecting to see –

Simmons. Where’s Jemma? No, no, no, no, this was not good. If Jemma wasn’t hooked up, then did that mean she was-? No, don’t think that way, Fitz. Jemma’s fine. She was just smart enough to avoid Aida’s capture.

Then, like a ton of bricks, the memory of the Framework loaded on Fitz’ brain.

Jemma.

Fitz heard footsteps, assuming them to be Aida’s he laid back his head and closed his eyes. Last thing he needed was for Aida to find out Jemma had broken Fitz’ programing. The longer he kept his eyes closed, the heavier his eyelids became. Then, without being able to distinguish when or how, he was sitting in front of Jemma again.

“Fitz?” She practically shouted, her hands on his cheeks.

He blinked at her, letting out a breath. “Jemma?”

She beamed at him, relieved. “Thank god.” Her body eased. “I thought Aida had shut you off or something.”

Fitz smiled at her. He then looked down at his hands. “It feels exactly like my work – only, does it feel even more real to you? Almost, too real?”

Jemma was in awe. “You remember.”

“Yeah. You should be proud.” He grinned back. “You just broke Aida’s programming.”

She laughed, out of excitement. “Fitz!” She squeezed his arm, standing up. “We’re going to win this.”

Fitz stood up with her. “But where are you? I woke up for a minute there, in reality, and-”

“You did what? Did you see anyone? Did you see Aida?”

“No, but I think I heard her. But Coulson, Mack, and May are all there. But you – you weren’t. And yet somehow you’re in front of me.”

Simmons sighed. “It’s a long story. But basically, Daisy and I hacked in to save you guys.”

Fitz nodded. “Where’s Daisy then?”

She smirked. “How would you like to see an old friend?”

Fitz eyed her. “Who?”

“Eh, he’s British, wears a beard, loves beer. Called himself a Mercenary. Ring any bells?”

Fitz’ eyes widened. “Hunter?”

#fitzsimmons #fitz and simmons #agents of shield #framework #jemma and fitz in the framework #fanfiction #romance #they love each other so much why can't the writers just leave them alone #this is basically just my dreams for when they see each other #renew agents of shield #aos

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raisingsupergirl · 3 years

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What Health Class Didn't Teach You About Life After 20

I remember the first time I realized I was getting "older." I had just turned twenty-five. I'd planted my right foot during a pick-up game of basketball, slipped on a wet spot on the floor, and felt a pop in my right hip. Self-diagnosed labral tear. No need for surgery, but it did click and pinch and frequently remind me that I wasn't as invincible as I once was. Shortly after that, I hurt my left knee—self-diagnosed meniscus tear. Also more of a nuisance than anything, but also a good reminder of my mortality. Then there was the back, the neck, the creeping weight-gain, the creeping hair loss, and the general creeping dread of my impending death... eventually. And never—not ONCE—did someone sit me down and warn me about all of this garbage. No advice on how to process it, overcome it, or even come to terms with it. So this is me, warning all of you twenty-and-thirty-somethings out there about what's to come. So listen up!

First off, there's the orthopedic stuff—all of the hip and knee and back issues that would have completely wrecked my future if I hadn't been a physical therapist. I've never had great insurance or money to burn on a bunch of fancy-pants doctors. The hip and knee things I might have ignored. But I also might have tried "working through it" too early, which would have only made things worse (possibly to the point of needing surgery). But the neck and the back? Those were two weight-lifting injuries that happened in quick succession that absolutely floored me. Like, literally. I couldn't get off of the floor because of pain. And even with my education and experience, I still allowed the injury to happen due to incorrect exercise form and habits. And there was a short time after the injury that I was doing the exact WRONG thing, making the herniated disc in my neck much worse. To the point that I ALMOST needed surgery for that one. And most people would have ended up there. It took over a year of rehab to get back to (mostly) pain-free, and there aren't many people who would have held out hope for that long.

So, my advice when it comes to acquired injuries? Be your own advocate. Take responsibility for your body. Remember that you only get one, and it's worth the time and effort to educate yourself on the best ways to take care of it. Ask a health professional friend (sorry, I'm busy). Make an appointment with a doctor who specialized in your injury, but also remember that most such specialists are surgeons, so their mind will usually gravitate toward surgery as the best option. It might be, but maybe also ask a physical therapist. Ask a chiropractor. And only AFTER you've asked enough professionals should you ask Google (unless you want to be told you have cancer literally every time). Then use all of that information like a grown adult. Write it all down. Compare and contrast the diagnoses and treatment options. Consider your needs regarding finances, recovery time, and desired outcomes. But remember: you only get one body. Any injury you decide to "live with" could potentially just keep getting worse until you stop living. And finally, above all else—no… wait. I'll tell you the most important thing a little later. First, let's talk about the OTHER stuff nobody ever warned me about.

The Great Hair Migration. It's a thing. It gathers on your head when you're young, but then it gets too tired to climb to the top. Instead, it starts sprouting out of your ears, your nose, your back... pretty much everywhere EXCEPT your head. Your mileage may vary, but it happens to everyone to some extent. For me, it started out as a receding hairline in my mid-twenties. The thing is, it happened so slowly that I doubted its existence. A wispy white hair here. Some more shiny forehead there. Then one day someone complimented my comb-over, and my life was over. Dead. Gray hair was one thing (even kind of cool in some ways). Going bald was another matter entirely. It's been over a decade since then, and the thinning has continued. Recently, I considered Rogaine or Propecia, but the former is too much work for no guaranteed results, and the latter is too much money with some, uh, undesirable potential side-effects. Then there's all the organic and alternative treatments that have little to no efficacy with plenty of dollar signs attached. No thanks. So, if I'm not going to recommend medical intervention, what IS my advice? Cut your hair. The shorter, the better. It looks less like a comb-over, and when the time comes that you have to start shaving it, it won't be as much of a shocker. Unless you're a woman. In which case, you CAN shave it, but maybe look into a nice wig first. Oh, and then there's the best advice... but I'm still saving that for later. First...

Belly flab! Back flab! Butt flab! Where does this stuff come from? Cheeseburgers, that's where. And cookies. And chocolate cake. Heck, even protein smoothies and chicken breasts are to blame. Calories in > calories out = weight gain. That's science. When you burn less calories than you shovel down your throat, your body stores the excess "energy" in fat cells. You know, just in case you need to tap into those fat reserves to survive a harsh winter or whatever. Evolution definitely hasn't kept up with 1st-world probs. But I'm not going to complain too much. I'm not overweight. Never have been. But I AM human. And like all humans, my metabolism started slowing down in my twenties—because we all basically start dying after puberty, and a part of that is slower processing and utilization of energy because dying people don't need as much fuel (which is also why we don't need as much recovery sleep and why we don't have that youthful energy forever). Yay!

So I started gaining weight. My new "normal" went from 170 lbs to 180 lbs. Then 190. Then I broke 200. Then I broke down. I learned that a dozen cookies right before bed would float around in my body all night until I tucked them away in my fat cells. I learned that a little bit of exercise (especially anything that builds muscle) goes a LONG way. And I learned that there's a certain point when eating thirty hot wings in one sitting is no longer a wise life choice. My advice? Nothing new. Exercise consistently (without herniating a disc in your neck) and appreciate WHAT you're eating, not how MUCH you're eating. Enjoying things in moderation actually improves your appreciation for them. At least, it does for me. And, of course, there's that most important piece of advice that it's almost time for. After we talk about...

Complete and utter decline of mental health because of ALL THE THINGS. I joke, but there's so much truth to this as we ease from childhood structure to adult freedom. Yes, adults are free (until we create our own prisons). As kids, our lives are fairly linear. Sure, we all had hobbies and preferences, but for the most part, we have one goal for the first eighteen years of our lives—learn what we're supposed to learn so we can avoid punishment and graduate from high school. For some of us, that structured bliss continues for a few more years. But eventually, we're all cut loose into the wild blue.

We can do literally ANYTHING (well, not "literally," but, yeah, anyway). Sure, there are some social norms to give us a little framework. Jobs, spouses, kids, taxes, retirement plans. But what's our PURPOSE? Why did we work so hard for those diplomas? How are we going to leave our marks on humanity and history? Do we NEED to leave marks? Is everything meaningless? Or just the things that OTHER people care about? Thankfully, humans are pretty good at assigning value to mundane things, and if we go about it the right way, we might even find some things that TRULY matter. So, what's my super-profound advise that you've all been waiting for? What's the secret to aging gracefully and finding the meaning of life?

Honestly? I have no idea... But only because I'm not you. I know what's worked for me, but that's because I know myself better than anyone. So my best advice has been there all along: look at yourself in the mirror and embrace your own unique changes. Embrace the customized adventures and challenges created just for you. Find your own answers and your own way in your own time. Don't expect someone else to hand them to you (especially not in a blog post). Don't bury your questions and fears. Don't drown them with self-medication or temporary distractions or someone else's ideas of success. And don't assume it's just a phase. Because it's not. It's your life.

Come to terms with the fact that you WILL acquire some injuries that can't be fixed. You WILL gain some weight. You WILL lose some hair. You won't be as clever as you once were, and you'll wake up some mornings wondering what the purpose of everything is. And, of course, you'll eventually die. We're not MEANT to live forever. Ultimately, something will end us no matter how hard we try to beat everything back. And if we only focus on living as LONG as we can, we'll forget to live as WELL as we can. And living "well" probably won't look the same for you as it does for someone else. To be honest, it's not the end of the world if you never run that marathon or beat those punks at basketball. Heck, it doesn't even really matter if you never have kids or find a cure for cancer. Rather, those things don't have any INTRINSIC value. Who cares if the human race dies off? Do you think anything else will really miss us?

So what DOES matter? Well, whatever you assign value to. Whatever you take the time to contemplate, plan, and dedicate yourself to. If that thing is a lush head of hair, start popping Propecia like your life depends on it (I wouldn't recommend that life path, but who am I to judge?). If it's commitment to a loving God (a path that I WOULD recommend, but again, you do you, boo), start keeping an eye out for every opportunity to truly listen to others and share the Good News with them. But mostly, don't get so hung up on the fact that you're dying. It's really not a big deal unless you MAKE it a big deal. Instead, focus on life. It looks a little different to all of us, and every day is a different gift. Enjoy each and every one in all of its broken, wrinkly, chaotic glory.

And don't say I didn't warn ya.

#aging gracefully #middle aged #life after 20 #aging process #orthopedic injuries #hair loss #weight loss #exercise #life advice #mental health #adult wellness #dadblr #momblr #mumblr

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tinymixtapes · 6 years

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Interview: Genesis Breyer P-Orridge (Throbbing Gristle, Psychic TV)

As one of the key originators of industrial music, organizer of the occult art collective Temple ov Psychick Youth, and participant in the ambitious body-altering pandrogyne project, Genesis Breyer P-Orridge has embodied the artistic process for over four decades. Observing and critiquing culture from the vantage point of a disruptor, P-Orridge draws from the teachings of William S. Burroughs and Brion Gysin, whom s/he counted as friends. Throughout the years, P-Orridge has dabbled in occult practices, pouring h/er thoughts out in a 500-page tome, Thee Psychick Bible. But h/er band Psychic TV also mastered the mainstream with the pop hit “Godstar,” which remained a number one song in Britain for months. Oh, and Psychic TV was also in the Guinness World Records for releasing the most albums in a year. That doesn’t mean P-Orridge rests on h/er prior achievements. Recently, s/he performed with Psychic TV at a rare show at this year’s Moogfest and was the subject of the documentary Bight of the Twin, which chronicled h/er experiences with Voodoo practitioners in Benin. A second documentary, A Message from the Temple, is forthcoming. --- Is there any kind of ritual or practice you undergo before going onstage with Psychic TV? No, no. There used to be a drinking ritual where we would get plastic bottles of water and put in vodka and cranberry or vodka and orange to take onstage, and that became this really ridiculous little ritual that we used to all do. And then everyone would all go and have a pee [laughs]. The band now is without any question my favorite lineup we’ve ever had. It’s basically stayed pretty stable since 2003. We’re on our third keyboard player. Our keyboard player seems to be a bit like the Spinal Tap drummer [laughs]. But we’re so bonded at this point that it’s a true organism. Everyone’s hyper aware of what’s happening in each other’s lives, what emotional journey they might be on at that given moment. So if we feel somebody needs encouragement, it just happens. Psychic TV is such an amazingly integrated organism that everything goes unsaid a lot of the time, but there’s an amazing amount of love. It really is a family in the truest sense. In Benin, when someone passes away, they say that “a twin goes to the forest to look for wood,” which is explored in Bight of the Twin. You’ve been involved with the idea of twins since at least the pandrogyne project, but there’s also a history of this in the Vodun religion. Yeah, as you carry on through life, you discover that there are twins in all sorts of hidden doctrines and groups with different belief systems. I mean, the Garden of Eden begins with twins. So we draw those into many experiences of rituals and psychedelic trips and what have you, and myself and Jaye concluded that either symbolically or literally, we were here to reunify as a species, that things like either/or, male/female, black/white, Christian/Muslim are all tools used to control us. The only way out of control is unity, where there is no difference. Therefore, no strategies are irrelevant. That’s why we felt pandrogyny was so important as an idea, and the twins idea in Africa was just confirmation on a really exciting, deep level. As the oldest continuous religion, Vodun would have the earliest concept of creation. We were asking them about their creation story. And they said, “In the beginning there was one god, Mahu, made up of both male and female parts named Segbo Lissa. Segbo is a female chameleon, and Lissa is a male python.” But they were one, or in other words, a pandrogyne. You can argue Adam and Eve is one being. In the earliest paintings of the Garden of Eden, the paintings were of God, Adam, and Eve, and they all have male and female genitals and breasts. The Vatican suppressed it, of course. So we’re not card-carrying dogma followers of anything, but we keep an extremely open mind. Psychic TV is such an amazingly integrated organism that everything goes unsaid a lot of the time, but there’s an amazing amount of love. It really is a family in the truest sense. Can you tell us about the idea of “occulture” you wrote about in Thee Psychick Bible? That was one of those words that just seemed inevitable. There’s a TOPY [Temple Ov Psychick Youth] member now in Asheville named Chandra Shukla who got involved with what we were doing on many levels when he was a teenager while living in a very traditional Asian family. He couldn’t bring himself to surrender into repetition of what his parents had lived, so he started looking for different stories. He’s working on a Psychick dictionary of all the phrases and slogans and new word definitions we’ve developed the last 50 years. Occulture was one of those words we just felt should always have existed. Even as a teenager, we’d read about Freemasons, the Process Church of the Final Judgment, different secret cabals, the Knights Templar, all these different organizations, some mythological, some actual, that were about, if you like, the real history of the world. Like what was the real reason that the first World War happened? It was a fight between two members of the same family, Queen Victoria and Kaiser Wilhelm, and they had a family argument and neither of them would back down, and then we have a war where millions die. So what were the real reasons that we went to war? Why was America so rich and powerful in the 50s? Profit came from the war where the Morgan bank financed both sides. If you start looking into the nitty gritty of where control really resides, there’s probably 100 families that tell us the primary story of what’s really gone on so far. Occulture is a great framework to think about these latent practices and organizations that have always been there throughout history outside of the mainstream. When I was a teenager, I started to daydream. “Wouldn’t it be fabulous if someone or myself identified the real history of the world?” It’s a long, big topic, but the bottom line is we’re constantly fed stimulation, but we’re not constantly fed education, and to me, that’s very suspicious. And it’s a vested interest. We want to keep the true story quiet. The real reasons that they decided to go to war in Iraq, was that for the oil or was that ego? We don’t know, but it wasn’t the reason they gave. A cult is hidden from the eye and culture is a control system. Occulture is also about people’s hidden motives. You know, Burroughs was brilliant at revealing these kinds of dynamics in society, and his work with Brion Gysin, with cutups, still to me is one of the greatest tools for breaking control, because it reveals things that cannot be revealed any other way except through what appears to be random chance. People now are surrendering on a level that we’ve never seen before. My years of mental formation were heavily influenced by the liberationist concepts of the 60s and some of the most positive changes that happened in society. Squatting, prison’s rights, organic food, gay rights, women’s rights, alternative medicine, yoga, there’s an endless list of changes that occurred. There’s a huge array of simple but identifiable improvements in the lot of humanity that came from that era, because we said, “Let’s take our daydreams really seriously. How would we like to be treated? How would we like to live? Why can’t we? There must be a way.” One of the ways we believe that has to come in the next real step of rebellion is communities. Not communes, but communities and collectives where people share their resources. So if there’s 10 of you, you don’t need 10 cars. Maybe three for emergencies. Sell the other seven and you’ve still all got access to cars. The money from those seven can buy a new computer that everyone uses or pay for the roof to be fixed. It’s always shocking to me how many people are terrified of sharing. They’ve been trained to think in terms of career as a success. You know, in the art world, which we’ve been dabbling in lately, it’s all about divine inspiration. It’s not a continuum, but in fact, everything that we make is a continuum. My life, I’m thrilled to say, is the result of all the different things that have happened and influenced me. All the people we’ve met, all the people that have spoken to me, all the places we’ve been, all the books we’ve read, all the music we’ve heard. All of that is what we then percolate and refine in order to make a response or create an object or a piece of music that we feel contains what we know so far in some way, in the hope it will inspire others to be less afraid of sharing. You were listed by Guinness World Records for the most albums released in one year. What was your work ethic like then? Well, I don’t know if it’s true anymore. I’m sure someone’s beaten us. A lot of them were live concerts released on vinyl. We were on CBS Records when we did Dreams Less Sweet, and then I wrote “Godstar,” a great little pop song, and I went in to Muff Winwood, the head of A&R, and I said, “Muff, listen to this tape.” And he went, “Hmm, it’s not weird like the other stuff.” I said, “No, but it’s a great pop song and this is what I want to do now. We’ve done the weird, now we want to do psychedelic pop.” And he said, “Oh, no, no, no. We don’t want the music to change like this. Your scene is weird music, so you’ve got to keep doing weird music.” And we said, “Muff, we just left your label. And I’m going to prove that even a monkey could make this into a hit record.” [laughs] I released it myself with a new label, Temple Records, and it was number one in the indie chart in Britain for 16 weeks, and it got into the top 30 in the national chart, too. It was our big hit. One of the ways we believe that has to come in the next real step of rebellion is communities. Not communes, but communities and collectives where people share their resources. To get the money to do a proper mix, I went to my bank manager and said, “Could you possibly loan me some money to remix this song?” And he went, “I don’t know, what’s the collateral element?” “Well, I don’t have any. I’m on the dole, living in a squat.” And I don’t know how, but the conversation changed and I was talking about bootlegs, and we came up with this idea to do a series of live albums that people collected, and each one had a token in it, and when you had all the tokens, you got a free record that was only available in that way. And on that agreement of me saying we’ll do that, he loaned me the money to do proper mixes and recordings of all the psychedelic stuff. That’s how we got in the Guinness World Records, because I was releasing a live album every month and then there were other records too, and it just built up to about 14 in a year or something, which at that time was a lot. We were next to Michael Jackson in the Guinness World Records. That’s really incredible. What’s the biggest thing you’ve learned from studying Austin Osman Spare? The potency of the orgasm. The idea that you can open up any inhibitions or gateways that might normally be closed between layers of consciousness and actually reprogram your neurology, your brain, your mind. That in fact the orgasm is a moment of absolute unity. And of course, two beings having a simultaneous orgasm is a superb image of androgyny where the two become one. Spare said that’s when you can reprogram a self. You decide how you really want to change or what you need to achieve. The choices you make afterwards, without you really being aware of it, will always be geared towards what your mind thinks is going to get you closer to the desired place. You’ll continue with certain activities, drop others, maybe end or begin a relationship, travel or stay home, whatever it is. Those decisions will be made to maximize your potential of reaching the most divine version of yourself. That’s what he taught me. Can you relate a memorable encounter you had with William S. Burroughs? Oh, god. [laughs] Memorable… I don’t know if it’s memorable. I’m trying to think… no, I can’t. I mean, there’s lots of little things, but it was the entirety that really made him so special. You know, at one point we came over to New York when we were still in England. I think it was in 1980 and we were in the bunker. William wanted to try the Raudive experiments of using a crystal radio set plugged into a tape recorder to get the voices of the dead to appear in the static. Have you ever heard about that? I haven’t, no. Konstantin Raudive — I think he’s Latvian — did a book called Breakthrough, and it’s just full of all these conversations with the dead recorded on blank tape using this little crystal set. It’s incredible, and there was a record with the book so that you could actually listen and hear some of them, but unfortunately, that’s been lost. But we recommend you have a look at that at least. Yeah, I’m definitely going to. That seems super interesting. It is. But we did it together, me and William. We still have the reel-to-reel tapes. You have to release those. Well, actually, it’s funny you should mention that, because when we did it, me and William listened to them back afterwards and, “Ah, there’s nothing.” [laughs] But now that technology’s improved we were just talking to Ryan Martin [of Dais Records], and he wants to play those tapes through really high-quality speakers and see whether we can hear things. The thing that made me a little bit unsure about Raudive is that most of the voices he heard were speaking in Latvian. And you think, “Really? Do they actually know that this is a Latvian speaking? Or is he just imagining Latvian because that’s his language?” Right, like out of all the languages, why would it be Latvian, or even something humans created? Yeah. So there’s a question mark, but it’s an interesting area. Certainly there are voices. That seems pretty definite. My hope would be that they’re voices from alternative dimensions. You know, when people take psychedelics, no one asks, “Why were you traveling? What did you want to learn that was so important and who did you want to benefit beyond yourself?” We think about all these people who now do DMT and ayahuasca as psychedelic tourists. It’s like Mount Everest, which is drowning under human feces and trash. People are leaving behind their consciousness trash. They’re popping into these other worlds where all the DMT creatures are and looking around. “Oh, wow, man. Look. Ooh.” Like they’re having a picnic at the zoo. Isn’t that really impolite? You know, in that kind of situation, we believe you should cleanse yourself, bathe, talk to the spirits, ask for permission, and really be hyper aware that you’re visiting somebody else’s world. The other thing I often wonder about is, are we ripping holes in the veil between these two alternate realities where things can come through into this apparent dimension that we didn’t invite? Now, what exactly is happening? It needs to be thought about much more seriously, in my opinion, before you do that. Now, are you letting things come back this way without even realizing it, and if you are, what are those things and what’s their agenda, and are you leaving a big mess like Mount Everest? Right, like it’s shortsighted for us to think that we can have these experiences without affecting either ourselves or another realm. Exactly, and it’s a typical short-sighted human response. It’s an aspect of the capitalist society that should be very carefully kept away from the sort of shamanic spiritual experience. If we make a mess on Everest, how dare we go somewhere even more precious until we know what we’re doing and we’re respectful? This is an example of thinking about things from different directions when you’re working, and that’s an occulture moment too, you know? What’s hidden in this process? What might be going on? And you can look at it and think of certain things that seem ridiculous. But maybe somebody’s having dinner in the DMT world and then we pop in going, “Hey, this is interesting. Oh, sorry I’ve stolen your food. Blah, blah, blah, blah.” It’s a great way to consider it. I never thought about it that way. Oh, good. Well, see, that’s what we’re here for. http://j.mp/2oLE5zt

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