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meichenxi · 2 days

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Language learning: slow learning versus toxic productivity

Or: the process in crisis

Five years ago, all of the productivity advice I read (and gave out) as a successful self-learner of many different languages had one basic premise: that I was not doing enough, and that I could always be doing more.

Several burnouts later, running headlong from one mental illness into another, I'd like to invite you to entertain the exact opposite idea: there is a limit to what you can do. I have run face-first into mine on multiple occasions, and burnt out. At many points I've stopped learning the language at all. Most importantly, I've learnt to be distrustful of the very premise that all of the so-called productivity or optimisation advice is based on.

More is not always more.

Listen to a podcast in the target language whilst you exercise. Exercise to give yourself more energy to learn your target language. Talk to yourself in the shower in your target language. Do Anki whilst eating breakfast. Listen to Glossika whilst walking to work. Change your phone settings to your target language. Bullet journal. Manage your time. Make friends in your target language. Control your time. Write a diary. There's always enough time. These are all things I have done myself and recommended others do, to increase exposure to the language, to increase productivity.

Productivity? What productivity? What, exactly, is it that we are producing? I am producing sentences and words but - for who? Who is listening? Nobody's here, in my room, at 7am on a Sunday. If productivity were just speaking or writing, I'd be productive in my native language too, by virtue of speaking out loud. Or conversely, in language learning circles, should we measure it in terms of input? How many hours did you spend listening to Chinese yesterday? What about today? Is there anything you do in your life, in your daily life, that you could optimise? You're wasting time. There's time here, for those that want it. If you want to get ahead, to be successful, to be a good language learner, you have to know how to use that time. Go online, and debate over which tools are the best; watch your videos. What exactly is it that is being produced?

Productivity is a measuring tool for concrete output: the productivity of a field means how much crop it can yield per harvest. The productivity of a factory is how many mobile phone chargers it can bring to market per year. There are direct and measurable ways to increase this sort of productivity. But what is productivity when it comes to knowledge work? Cal Newport's work, The Minimalists, Essentialism: they all run into the same problem, which is that nobody seems to know what 'productivity' for knowledge workers means at all. You can look at a factory line and see which parts need greasing up, figuratively or literally: it is very difficult, on the other hand, to look at the work of a self-contained writer and tell her where she is going 'wrong'. (And by 'wrong', I mean - slow.) And language learning is an even more particular subset of that particular subset of work.

You could judge a novelists' productivity two ways: by the 'busyness' of her daily writing routine, or the amount of novels she produces. But what exactly is being produced when we learn a language? What is the end product?

In some ways, language learning as a hobby is even more playful than traditionally thought of arts and crafts. (By 'play' I mean something which is done for its own sake, and which is pleasurable, and which may yield next to no monetary reward.) We might think of the poet as sitting on a tree and dangling his feet in the river, a vision of artful indolence, but at the end of the day there is output - a poem. A knitter has a jumper. A potter has a pot. But language learning doesn't follow this [work] + [time] = [tangible output] structure. We can't even use the second metric of 'productivity' to measure it at all. Something is being done, of course - I can learn to speak Greek, and speak it markedly better after two months than one - but my point is you can't look at a day's work and say, this is exactly how much I learnt. Learning is not memorisation in the short term - it's receiving input, and practicing how to wield and use a structure. It doesn't happen over the course of a ten-minute podcast.

Learning happens - encoding happens - when the brain is doing other things. In other words, much like every creative process, you need downtime. You need rest, and sleep, and fun, and brightness and joy in your life. You might 'remember' a bunch of words on Anki, but you need to sleep before you can review them again: that's the whole point.

There is a much wider problem here, a culture of goals and optimising your life and glowing up, and to be honest, I find it disturbing. I think that for a very long time my language learning metrics were a stand-in, a relic, for the kinds of unhealthy and obsessively perfectionist thinking that gave me an eating disorder. How many of us truly believe - genuinely, with every inch of our heart - that we are better people if we 'better' ourselves? Learn more. Exercise more. Study more. How do you feel about yourself at the end of a day, exhausted, because you've completed day 75/100? Do you feel better about yourself because you've achieved? I'm guessing that you do.

For many people - including for myself - this wider culture has spilled over into their hobbies. Hobbies like language learning in particular are a target for this because they are so easily quantifiable - and we are encouraged, if we want to succeed, to quantify them. How else will we know how to improve?

Over the last few years, after burning out, after living off grid and without wifi and doing extreme minimalism and a lot of other lifestyle experiments to try and understand why modern life is so fucking hard, it's become clear that most systems of 'productivity' measure 'optimisation' by getting the most done in a day, but they don't stop to question whether you should be doing those things at all.

They don't stop to ask: what matters? They don't stop to ask: why am I trying to write a novel, finish my dissertation, pursue a romantic relationship, get healthy, learn ice-skating, learn to cook, look after my aging parents, and learn guitar at the same time? They don't ask: how do I prioritise, and where do I find silence? They ask: how do I cram more time in the day? They don't ask: how do I slow time down? They don't ask: how can I know what matters, if I never give myself space to think?

In other words: 'productivity' in language learning is measured by 'busy-work', by how much you can see from the surface.

You can't measure how well the learning is going, exactly, but you can measure how many hours a day you show up and grind. Whether or not that struggle is the best use of your time, or whether you're spending the time on things that will truly bring you value and quality, is a different question altogether.

And it's not one most 'productivity culture' will ever ask.

There will be things in your language learning journey that, to borrow from self-help terminology, no longer serve you. Habits and relics and resources and mindsets that worked for you once, or no longer did. Those books that are too advanced that you feel like you 'should' be able to read. That textbook that's been sitting beside your bed for a year. That habit of scrolling social media in your target language that was helpful when you were at a more intermediate level, but does little for you now that you're advanced.

Take stock of these. Simplify. Do less, but do it better. Productivity culture never stops to ask: what can I do without? It always asks, instead: how can I do more? But maybe - just maybe - the way to do more is to focus on fewer things, but do them well.

Multi-tasking isn't multi-tasking, but switching quickly between different focuses of attention. The average American owns 300,000 things, and watches television for 4-5 hours a day. On average, if you are distracted, it takes you 20 minutes to reach the same level of deep focus: but the average American office worker opens an email within six seconds of receiving it. Are you any better with your phone? How much time do you spend there? If you meditate, that's wonderful, but do you have any time to let yourself think? To walk and to understand how to feel? I don't want to sound like a boomer, but: can you name the birds? Do you live in a place, not just a room?

Stop trying to be 'productive'. Do less. Do it well.

I am now facing a wall in my learning of Chinese, and I'm still not sure how to get around it. The reason for this is because so much of the advice I gave others around language learning, and so much of the advice I found online, is focused on this sort of optimisation. But I no longer want to be listening to something, to be watching something, every second of every day. I have a partner to love and a house to appreciate and I want to spend time, humming and pleasant, alone with my thoughts, and it's summer, dear diary, and I don't want to stay indoors. Routines can keep you afloat, but they can also drown you. Do something different. Do something new. Do something that is not productive, that produces nothing, idle away, walk to work without music and perhaps when you sit down to your language learning that evening, you'll be filled with a renewed vigour and love for it. Do it because you love it, not because you scheduled it in your calendar.

A lesson, related, from my martial arts teacher. He said:

If you are tired, do not train. If you do not train, rest. 'Rest' does not mean go on your phone.

The same principle applies here. If you are tired of learning, which you may well be, rest. Not going on your phone, not watching Netflix. I mean taking a walk and sitting under the tree and looking at the patterning of the sky. I mean lying with your dog and absently scratching his tummy. If you're tired, and you have the luxury to stop - stop. Let yourself be tired. Don't drink caffeine. Sleep.

Last year, I was able to write 340,000 words of fiction because I focused on one thing: writing my book. Apart from things that I literally needed to do to survive and maintain my health and relationships around me, I didn't set a single other to-do. My daily list looked like: write for three hours. Not a word limit. Not exercise, though I ended up doing that, not learning a language. I imagine that if I had tried to focus on Chinese at the same time that I wouldn't have achieved anywhere near half the result. I still learnt Chinese, a very decent amount - I went to China and Taiwan for three months in total! - but I did it because I wanted to, of a whim, on a Sunday, something fun. It wasn't a must, or anything I was forcing myself to do. Many days I didn't do any Chinese at all. It was so immensely freeing to be able to think, at 11am: I'm finished for today. Even when I was at work, because I knew I was just there to pay the rent, I felt serene. Stressed on a day-to-day level, certainly, because all work is stressful, but - there wasn't any striving. I just did the best I could. And that was enough.

I am writing this, now, as I come out of my first ever information-overload burnout. I've burnt out, but I've never experienced one of these before: even looking at a book, at a phone, physically hurt my eyes. I couldn't bear to listen to people speak and would lock myself away in my room. I physically felt I could not talk, and had to take extensive time off work. Even looking at a pen and a blank page was too much; listening to podcasts was too much; reading the instructions for dinner was too much too. The only way I could heal was by doing absolutely nothing at all. That period shocked me deeply, because it showed me how absolutely dependent I was on having some input of information all of the time. No wonder I was tired.

I know, now, that there are lots of movements built around this same idea, by frustrated learners all over the world: the growing realisation that metrics and Excel and polylogger and tracking tracking tracking can't be the only way to learn. That a list of the number of books you've read in one year is hardly indicative of how well you understood those books, and what you learned from them. You've read 20 books this year already - good job. When do you think about them? What time do you spend on reflection? Why did you choose those books? Which chapters, and which characters, hit you the hardest? Why?

Minimalism, deep work, 'monk mode', essentialism, every writer's dream to run away and write in a cabin in the woods, slow learning, Buddhism, Stoicism, Marie Kondo-ism, the art of less, project 333, my no-buy-year, slow fashion, slow food, slow travel:

What all of these philosophies have in common is the idea that doing things deliberately ('mindfully') means 1) doing things slowly, 2) doing things well, and 3) doing things one at a time.

I am now at a place in my life where I understand the value of time alone with my thoughts. I don't want to listen to podcasts every minute of the waking day, because I need time to think about them. I need time to let the ideas for my novel grow in the dark. Nothing can be heard in noise; so make space for silence. I am a member of the real, living, breathing world, and that means I cannot devote 8 hours a day to Chinese television shows like I could when I was 20. I have to call my father. I have to do the dishes. I want to flex my creative muscles in other ways. Alternatively - I no longer believe that my worth is tied up inherently with how well I do my hobbies.

You're just some guy. There's freedom in that. You, my friend - you suck <3

Let yourself be bad. Let yourself be mediocre. Let yourself 'slide backwards' or regress, because all that means is that you're putting focus somewhere else. It'll come back. It always does.

I'm no longer comfortable, therefore, with the way that the language learning community tackles productivity. Please don't misunderstand; a lot of us have time spare that we could use to do things 'better' for us. I know. But I just believe now that getting rid of things, like the time you spend on your phone, is going to be more helpful in the long run than trying to force yourself into some gruelling, achievement-centric regime that collapses from within after two months of struggle and self-flagellation.

The other realisation I have had is just how much happier I am spending more time being alive, really alive, and less time in front of a screen. For a language like German or Gaelic that's much easier, because you can study with books, but with Chinese you always have to study to some extent with audios, flashcards, computers. Especially if - like me - you can read novels without a dictionary, but cannot handwrite even your Chinese name. So where next?

I don't have any answers. I'm not sure how to pair the two things together, to be honest, because almost all of my language learning has traditionally made use of technology. It's all been goal-orientated, systems-orientated, and despite the fact that I've failed at using these systems every day for years, despite the fact that Anki has NEVER worked for me, despite the fact that I have spent hundreds if not thousands of pounds on courses here, there, a wealth of overwhelm and five thousand words saved on Pleco, did I read that right? Five thousand. No wonder I'm stressed.

Regardless of happiness, it's much easier to achieve a state of deep focus and work when you're not online. After my period of information burnout, I feel actual physical pain from the weight of choices online. It's exhausting. I'm watching a Chinese show, but I want to go on tumblr. I'm on tumblr, but I feel guilty for not watching the Chinese show. I'm constantly torn between doing this and that, never fully committing to anything, seeing a post by Lindie Botes and thinking, damn, she's good. I should be better. But I don't want to compare myself to her. Do you know what? She is good. I admire her immensely. But I don't want to judge my self-worth by some imagined scale of productivity anymore - and, the more time passes, the more I'm not sure what 'productivity' in the context of language learning even means.

Try slow, focused, deep learning. You might just find it works.

There's something refreshing, almost counter-cultural, anti-capitalist, anti-consumerist, anti-rat-race, about this thought. Slow learning. I think there's an answer here, somewhere. It's a problem I've been dancing around for a while; and do you remember how you learnt your first foreign language? For me, it was on the floor, absolutely absorbed in German comic books, flicking through the dictionary furiously and scribbling things down in a notebook. I only had one book, and one dictionary, and one grammar book. I want to go back to that sort of simplicity. There was joy in that.

One again: I don't have any answers. I don't know exactly what direction this blog is going to go in, as I wrestle with these sorts of meta-problems. I'd love to hear your thoughts. And for now, if there's one thing I'd like you to take away from this long and frankly absurdly rambling post (thank you for bearing with me!) it's an alternative answer for the question I get so often, about what you can do to learn the language when you're tired, because:

Yes, you could watch reality TV shows in Chinese, or you could give yourself permission to be human. You could rest.

Thanks guys. Meichenxi out <3

#langblr #language learning #languages #productivity #productivitytips #^ tagging it with all of the above so it reaches the target audience of stressed out 17 year olds #my dudes. my guys. you are loved. or if you are not now - you will be #all will be well

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aoioozora · 3 days

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Imagine going horse-riding with Keegan on your dad's extensive farmland.

The sun is setting and all work is done and the two of you decide to just trot around the fields together and chat. You helped your dad manage the ranch and the farm and naturally, the men and women who were employed too. Out of them all, Keegan was your particular favourite. Quiet, unobtrusive, and hardworking, both of you gelled well together and he didn't take long to win your good favour and become your closest friend.

He really liked you too-- adored you for your good qualities. Being ranch manager, you were responsible, firm, strong; you called the shots, settled disputes, and did your best to keep peace between everyone. And you were stunning too; a goddess among men, and he secretly admired you.

And as you both ride down the pastures, he can't help but steal a couple glances at how the golden sunset makes your sweat damp skin glow, how it shines against your hair, and how it brightens up your eyes. How you even looked in his direction to begin with was a mystery.

"What're you looking at, Russ?"

Keegan blinks out of his daze to find you grinning at him.

"At you," he answers.

"Why?"

"Just thinking about how shriveled up you look... Like hay," he says dryly as he turns away to look over the mare's head.

"Hay!" you exclaimed.

Both of you burst into wild laughter, and it echoes in the pastures and the hills.

"Ugh, my throat's sore," Keegan complains, clearing his throat loudly after the two of you calm down.

"I know a spot where we can stop for a drink," you tell him.

"Lead the way, little miss."

As you guide your horse to another direction, you smile to yourself. Little miss. That's what he always called you, both teasingly and respectfully, seeing that on a corporation level, you were a higher-up, though younger than him. He was possibly the only one man on the ranch who respected your authority while most of the other men didn't like having a woman tell them what to do.

You lead him through a small, beaten trail through the trees and then climb down some rocks until the gurgle of water is heard. A few seconds trot brings the two of you to a rivulet and Keegan whistles softly.

"How come I don't know this place?" he asks, mock offended as he guides his mare towards the little waterbody, "I thought you told me everything."

You follow behind him. "Now I told you about it," You smile cheekily, "Besides, a secret spot is a secret for a reason."

He gets off the mare and lets her take a drink of the water. "So you come here and do what? Cry about how you can't do taxes?" he teases, moving towards the bank to get on his knees.

You roll your eyes as you get off your horse. "I can do my taxes just fine, thank you very much," you frown, watching him cup the clear, cold water in his hands and drink it greedily, "I come here to relax and unwind." You also get on your knees and bend over the surface of the water, cupping the water into your mouth.

He is thoughtful for a moment as he stands up and wipes his hands on a handkerchief. "How often do you come here?" he asks.

"Couple times a week. Being ranch manager is stressful, you know."

He knows. Having to lead and manage a bunch of cowboys who didn't accept the authority of a woman was a difficult task. He'd seen you lose your patience with them several times, and even vent your frustrations to him in tears. He'd see you disappear for a few hours, not knowing where you went, and now as he takes a look around at the boulders and trees shading the rivulet above, he assumes that this was your little cove, your safe haven.

"This is why my little miss should sit still and look pretty and let the men do all the dirty work." He takes off his boots and rolls up the hem of his jeans up to his knees.

That didn't make you feel any better and you frown, though you steal a glance at his calves. "I can't. I'm the only one my dad has to depend on. And now that he's getting old, eventually I'll have to take over. God forbid, if he becomes sick or even dies, the responsibility of an entire ranch will fall on my shoulders. And I can't do it properly if all those fuckers don't listen to me."

As he wades through the shallow waters and shivers from the cold, he listens to you in silence. He then answers, "Your dad should employ or promote a good guy to be assistant manager, because I don't see those guys changing their minds about you anytime soon."

You sigh, slapping the surface of the water, sending a splash flying sideways. "Dad says that the man I marry will be the assistant manager alongside me," You say, rolling your eyes.

His eyebrows raise with intrigue and he barks a laugh. "What is this ranch, a kingdom?"

You shrug, shaking your head.

"You're tough as nails though," he murmurs, walking back and forth in the stream, splashing water around with his feet, "Any other woman would call it quits."

"Because I have no choice," You add.

He is silent for a few moments as he stares at the little fish swimming past his feet. You turn your attention to the horses who are now peacefully grazing on the sweet patch of grass behind you.

"Hey, c'mere," he calls after a few moments.

You turn back around and find him bent over a spot in the stream with his legs splayed apart and his hands clasped under the water. He flicks his head towards his hands. "Look, I caught something."

You take off your boots and fold up your jeans so that you can join him in the water. You stand in front of him, bent over his clasped hands, wondering if he caught a tadpole. "Let's see it."

His hands emerge from the surface slightly. Before you know it, a small jet of cold water hits you in the face. Your eyes snap shut and you jerk backwards, letting out a surprised squeak. The next thing you hear is the cowboy's uncontrollable laughter.

"Keegan!" you screech, annoyed by the little prank, but he almost doubles over, wheezing and laughing.

You quickly wipe the water off your face and kick some water his way, drenching his jeans. He only laughs harder, to the point that it echoes in the cove. Even the horses are looking strangely at him.

"Didn't that make you feel better though?" he exclaims, wiping a tear from his eye as he takes off his hat and tosses it towards the banks, "Don't you feel more grounded and refreshed?"

You are distracted by him running his wet hand through his short black waves, pushing them back against his head and making them glisten. "Uh... Yeah, it did," you clear your throat, "But that doesn't mean I'll let you off so easily!"

You kick some more water his way, making him retaliate. His laughter fills the air and before you know it, your annoyance is replaced with glee as the two of you frolic and play in the water like children.

All the laughing leaves your throats sore and dry again, so you stop to drink water again. As the two of you crouch down to drink, you can't help but notice how a couple locks of his hair sticks to the side of his face, and how the beads of water slide down his cheekbone to his sharp, stubbly jaw and slowly trail southwards, sinking into the nooks and crannies of his neck.

He's a rugged American cowboy alright.

You purse your lips, almost wanting to lick the water off his skin.

"Whatcha lookin' at?"

Your eyes snap back from his neck to his face, and you find a smirk plastered on it. You narrow your eyes as him. "At you."

"Why?"

"Just thinking about how you're such a jackass."

He clutches his chest, mock offended, but his bright blue eyes seem to twinkle mischievously. "Ouch. Is this how I'm repaid for trying to make you feel better?"

You shove his shoulder. "Okay fine, thank you for making me feel better," You say sarcastically.

He bumps your shoulder with his. "Try again. That wasn't good enough."

You bump his shoulder back harder. "Thank you for making me feel better," You repeat, rolling your eyes and smiling.

"Drop the attitude, lil' missy," his voice lowers as he bumps you right back, making you stumble a little.

"I'd rather sooner drop you down rather than drop the attitude." You straighten yourself up, challenging him with a lopsided smirk.

He scoffs, also standing up. "Oh yeah? Try me."

"Look over there!" you exclaim with wide eyes, pointing behind him.

He quickly turns around. You instantly tackle him to the ground, pushing all your weight against him. With a yowl, he falls back into the stream on his hind quarters with you on top of him.

"You fuckin' animal!" he shouted, but there's a smile on his face.

"You fell for the oldest trick in the book. Bless your precious heart," You tease, laughing out loud as you remain right on top of his chest, not making any effort to move.

He notices that you don't move, and takes full advantage of it. With one fell swoop, he takes hold of your arm and your waist, easily manoeuvres you under him onto the bed of the stream, and presses his entire weight against yours to trap you. You gasp in surprise as you feel the chill of the water from below and the warmth of his body above.

All your words die in your throat as you're face to face with him. You feel his minty breath fan against your lips. A drop of water trickles down a wet lock of his hair on his forehead, dragging down against the bridge of his nose, and hanging right at the tip. The drop falls on your cheek.

You meet his eyes and they hold yours fast. Even in the dimming light, his bright blue eyes are searching you hungrily, looking for any trace of disapproval or resistance from you. You feel a bloom of warmth in your stomach and in your cheeks. All retorts die in your throat, and you feel like a little rabbit in front of a wolf.

He exhales slowly. His eyelids close for a moment and he then leans in close to your ear, whispering in a rumble,

"Don't squat with your spurs on, darling."

A positively divine shiver courses through you from his ticklish breath against your sensitive ear, making your chest heave against his. He smirks when he sees your hairs on your neck stand on the ends. You're liking what he's doing.

"Cat got your tongue, little miss?" he chuckles at your silence, "Or cat got your attitude?"

You blush, frowning at him. "Shuddup..." you mumble weakly, feeling like you were going to lose your mind from how utterly delightful it is to have him chest-to-chest, hips-to-hips, and legs tangled together.

"Ah, it's a case of cat got your tongue. In my extensive years of medical practice, I've seen this condition very often," he says in a sarcastic, matter-of-fact voice, "The cure is simple and will loosen your tongue out just fine."

"What cure?" you demand.

"Allow me."

He cups your face in his hand and leans in. The next thing you feel are a pair of soft lips pressed against yours, and your eyes flutter close upon contact. Even in the biting chill of the flowing water, your entire body flushes with warmth like it's been drenched in gasoline and set on fire. Your hands find their way across his shoulders and your arms coil around his neck, pulling him in deeper. He lets your face go and slides his hand behind your neck at the base of your head, holding you steady. His rough fingers rub against the sensitive skin, turning your stomach into a circus.

"Open up," he commands in a hushed, breathy whisper as he pulls away just slightly enough to lightly swipe the tip of his tongue against your lower lip.

As he kisses you again, you open your mouth. He slips his tongue in and finds yours, twisting and tangling like mating millipedes. You let out a soft whimper at this tingly, delightful feeling of such an intimate kiss and clutch tightly at his hair and dig your fingers into his shoulder. His skin bristles, shivering under your touch, and he increases the pressure of his lips against yours.

Your body feels both numb and electrified at the same time, your blood watery and coagulated, your mind alert and unguarded. The intensity is so dizzying, so pleasurable that it feels like you took some hard drugs and began to ascend.

"Good girl," he rumbles in between, retracting his tongue to go back to kissing you slowly and gently.

Oh, he struck your Achilles heel.

You melt against him in complete submission.

After what felt like only five seconds of utter pleasure, he pulls away to let both of you catch your breaths. He takes a good look at you and then chuckles, almost victoriously. He got the bossy, wild, bucking horse of a little miss to submit to him for once. Your heavy breaths, your flushed face, and your doe eyes looking back at him; he reveled in this victory.

"Tongue loose, lil' miss?" he asks breathily.

"Oh, fuck off..." you grumbled, feeling your cheeks burn.

He chuckles and gets off of you, allowing himself to sit down in the water next to you. As soon as he's off you, you breathe in deeply, not realising how short of breath you were with his entire weight on you.

Both of you are silent for a few minutes, staring upwards at the star spangled heavens through the dark silhouettes of the trees shading the cove as your heavy breaths accentuate the silence of the darkening night. A breeze whistles past you, making both of you shiver.

"We really should-" he sneezes loudly, "Fuck, it's cold. We really should be heading back." He sniffles as he stands up, "Can't go worrying the boss now, can we? C'mon now, get up." He holds out his hand to you.

You reluctantly take his hand and get on your feet. Both of you wade out of the water and then wring out whatever water you can out of your clothes without taking them off. That being done, both of you took the reins of your horses and your boots in your hands and began the long trudge back to the house, sneezing and shivering.

"Russ?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe I should ask my dad to promote you to assistant manager."

His eyes widen for a split second before he cracks a wide grin. "I think I'd like that very much."

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 2 days

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06/09/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR: Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Rachel House; Taika & Samba; Gypsy Taylor; Watch Parties; SOFMD Crew Fibre Arts Auction; AOC: Raffle Update; Articles; Fan Spotlight; Cast Cards; Our Flag Means Fanfiction Podcast; Big Gay Energy Podcast; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== Rhys Darby ==

More photos of Rhys from To 29 and Beyond!

Source: The Girl Blogger's Instagram

Also Rhys shared this on his instagram stories-- don't worry Rhys, we're way ahead of you! Round 2 is closed! On to Round 3!

Source: Rhys Darby's Instagram Stories

== Taika & Samba ==

Taika was found responding to Samba's post yesterday, nice to see him making comments on social media again!

Source: Samba Schutte's Instagram

Taika was out with Sterlin Harjo! (Creator of Resevoir Dogs)

Source: Sterlin Harjo's Instagram

== Rachel House ==

Rachel has been out attending the Sydney Film Festival, and was interviewed on TheProjectTV about her movie The Mountain.

Source: Temaungafilm Instagram

Source: TheProjectTV's Instagram

Source: SydFilmFestival Instagram

== Gypsy Taylor ==

Some very fun looking outfits with Gypsy Taylor!

Source: PainterByNumbers / Gypsy Taylor's Instagram

== Watch Parties ==

Good Omens Season 2

Dates: June 10-14, 2024

Times: 3:30 pm PT, 6:30 pm ET, 11:30 pm BST

Episodes: M-Th: 1-4, F: 5-6

Where: RhysDarbyFaction Discord Server

Need access? Reach out to @gentlebeardsbarngrill on tumblr or @aspirantabby42 on twitter.

== Teal Oranges & Garlic Soup Week ==

TealOranges & Garlic Soup Week is still coming up on June 23 - 29! Wanna learn more of the prompts? Please visit their Tumblr!

Source: TealOranges & GarlicSoupWeek Twitter

== SOFMD Crew: Fibre Arts Auction ==

SaveOFMD Crew has announced their auction items! Lots of folks in the fandom have donated fibre-arts prizes to help benefit our Queer Elders at SAGE USA! You can check out the prizes on the saveofmdcrew website. The auction will be opening in a few days!

Source: SaveOFMD Crew Instagram

== AOC: Our Flag Means Pride Raffle ==

Raffle Update on #OurFlagMeansPride! 40 Charities already benefited! Raffle tickets are still available! You can enter on their page!

Source: AdoptOurCrew Tumblr

== Articles ==

Heyyyy, Tokyo Vice Also Cancelled on HBO Max :(

After Max Raised Its Subscription Prices, The Streamer Confirmed Another One Of Its Shows Is Canceled

10 Best Period Drama Shows of the Last 5 Years, Ranked

== Taika 2048 ==

Okay, who was going to tell me there was a Taika Waititi 2048? Thank you to @lisahafey for posting on Twitter so I can finally lose myself in this for the next many many hours.

Source: Lisa Hafey's Twitter

== Fan Spotlight / News =

= Cast Cards =

First up tonight from @melvisik is another member of the Red Flag Crew, Kathleen S. ! Second is another one of awesome directors - Katie Ellwood!

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

== Our Flag Means Fanfiction ==

Next up on Our Flag Means Fanfiction is The Dark Episode (hurt/comfort, whump, angst)! Find somewhere to listen on Our Flag Means Fanfiction Linktr.ee.

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

== Big Gay Energy Podcast ==

New episode of Big Gay Energy Pod! They're talking These Thems this time around! Check them out on your favorite podcast platform!

Source: Big Gay Energy Podcast Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies. Another weekend has come to an end, and we're starting another work week. Whether you got some rest, or just got some stuff done, I hope you are in a place where you feel you can face the next few days-- and if not, I hope you get some rest and get a chance to recoup. I've been hearing several folks running into some struggles--struggles brought on by others. Whether those who cause it intend to or not, I want you to know my friends, you don't deserve to be treated badly. You really don't. Don't let those people make you feel like you deserve that. You deserve to be happy, to feel safe, to feel comfortable, to feel like you, in your own skin, whatever that means for you.

I know you probably already know, but sometimes it's good to hear it from an outside source too-- you are not what other people think you are or expect of you. You are you. The ever wonderful, kind, unique, beautiful you. On hard days I know it's hard to see, but you're still there, and things will look up again. Be kind to yourself lovelies, you deserve the best, no matter what anyone says. Rest Well, I hope the start to your week turns out calm and kind to you <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is...thoughtful with glasses. Gifs courtesy of kind @eaion and the fantastic @celluloidbroomcloset!

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incorrect-mtg · 6 hours

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The Warlord and the Artificer

There's a saying among the Keldon, that a friendship is only true when it is forged in the fires of battle.

Radha would argue that Venser was never a warrior, so his contributions in battle were laughable, but saving the multiverse together should count for something.

That is why when he arrives severely injured on Keld, almost a decade after the mending, she orders her people to take care of him as they would herself, clearing a room for him to use and affording him the best healers Keld and Skyshroud could provide.

It takes him 3 days to heal enough for a coherent conversation, which is good enough for her to demand an explanation of what happened to him and what led him to Keld in the first place. The answer involved places and people she didn't know — from another plane entirely — but boiled down to Venser being unprepared for an ambush and almost getting himself killed, then not knowing where to go for help.

"So" she says, when he's done "your best plan was to seek charity from Keldons?"

"Well, it was more seeking charity from a friend, but yes" is his reply

Her answer is to snort and roll her eyes, before leaving the artificer to finish healing. Unlike him, she has a nation to wrangle together.

When he fully recovers days later, she does make sure to tell him he can come back, if he gets himself almost killed again in the future. Venser apparently takes that as a general invitation, showing up every few months to supposedly recover from his planeswalking mishaps or the miasmic atmosphere of his workshop in Urborg.

At some point the room he had first stayed him becomes HIS room, filled with random trinkets.

His stays are always short: it hadn't taken them long to realize that, no matter how much respect they might have held for one another, their personalities were just incompatible enough that they would inevitably find the other grating when interacting for long enough. Usually this would end with her calling him some variation of a "machine-obsessed coward" or him calling her a "battle-obsessed brute" and things descending into almost (or sometimes actual) violence.

So Venser would come, they annoy each other, he'd go away, rinse and repeat. One would think the constant annoyance would lead to her kicking him out for good. And yet…

One thing she is sorely lacking in her quest to rebuild her home is perspective. There is wisdom in both Keld and Skyshroud, but not the kind she needs to build a nation. Venser is the type of man who might not know everything, but who will voluntarily think and research in a way that would have her wanting to punch down a wall. Moreover, he's from Urborg, a place where people make a life out of scraps and gumption, exactly what Keld needs.

For his part, Venser seems happy to share all he knows freely, be it obtained in his workshop or on any of the many planes he keeps visiting and bringing back souvenirs from to decorate his room. As the years pass he even decides to teach her people directly, showing them how to build machines for farming and manufacturing and put to use the many scraps of phyrexian machinery that litter the land. It is the kind of knowledge that can truly change their lives, that means less people go hungry in winter, if any at all.

As for how she repays him, well…

"Training for the newest recruits will start tomorrow," she tells him one day "you should join in. My healers are tired of patching you up from your interplanar adventures."

"You want me to train… With a bunch of hotheaded Keldon kids" is his incredulous reply "You do see the problem in that, right? At best they'll laugh at me."

"You're a foreigner, they'll assume your lack of training is due to that. Also you don't look much olderthan them, which I've been meaning to ask about. What's up with that?"

"Exposure to the time rifts?" he says, shrugging. Her guess is as good as his, but it is undeniable that something is up with his aging. She is a a half-elf keldon and yet Venser doesn't look any older than her, despite the fact he should look like the human adult he actually is.

Regardless, she won't take no for an answer and the next few months see him going through all of the battle training anyone she calls a friend should have. The fact that the number of times he arrives in Keld injured drastically decreases afterwards only serve to validate her.

Things settle into a routine afterwards with her consolidating her position as "de facto" ruler of Keld ("maybe if I can sit you down long enough to write a proper legal code you can be de jure as well!") and gradually unmaking and remaking centuries of Keldon traditions into something new with Venser's help and constant planeswalking anecdotes ("Youd love Zendikar. Its like if a plane had your temperament"). Sure, they're a weird pair of friends, the keldon warlord and the ageless artificer. But she appreciates his wisdom and he's probably annoyed everyone else who'd listen to his tales.

Then one day he arrives from Urborg with a look on his face she knows means he either has a genius idea or a stupid one. The kind of look that means he's better left alone until he's thought his way through it and either decided on something or came to her for her perspective.

"Do you ever think about Karn?" he asks her, a day after arriving. "how he told us not follow him, all those years ago?"

"Not really" is her reply "I couldn't follow him even if I wanted to, why would I care?"

"But don't you ever wonder where he went? If he's still alive, even?"

She shrugs "He told us not to follow him. If he wanted help, he'd have asked for it."

"But what if he needed help? Or got himself into something he couldn't deal with?"

"Then that's on him, Venser" she says, the topic already irritating her "If I went out and told my people to not follow me, it means I don't want help. If I got myself killed that's on me, but if someone went after me when I told them not to I'd rip them a new one! Now, why are you thinking about this? We haven't thought about Karn in decades, what brought this on?"

He's quiet for a moment, before sighing and finally explaining "Some planeswalkers found me in my workshop. They want me to go with them to Mirrodin- that's Karn's plane" he explains when she gives him a questioning look "apparently it's been taken over by Phyrexians. I assume that's why Karn was so alarmed in the first place."

There's only thing to say to apossible return of Phyrexia.

"Shit."

"Yeah… They think I can help, somehow, and I got the impressioneither I go with them or get very far away to shake them off."

"Huh… Ok. So, you going?"

"Wha- Radha, if they're right, this would be like planeswalking directly to phyrexia! It would be suicide!"

"Maybe. Would be dangerous for sure. So, you're not going?"

"I don't know! If they're right, then Karn might have been caught by them. He might be dead" he says, now rubbing his temples "or he might need help, and nobody knows."

"Look, this is going nowhere" she says, thinking she might soon get a headache of her own "so Karn might be in trouble. Or maybe he's dead. You want to go and check. So go, what's the issue?"

"It's not that simple, Radha!" He replies, almost shouting.

"Yes. It. Is. What's so complex about it?!" she answers in kind.

"Not everyone is a suicidal keldon! I. Could. Die! Probably will, if I go!"

"Then make sure to die gloriously while taking down a legion of phyrexian horrors, Venser! If you want to do something, do it. If there are consequences, face them. If there's a cost, pay it. That's all there is to it. If you think Karn might need help, then sitting here complaining about it won't save him. If you think he's dead, either let it go or avenge him. End of story!"

As she ends her impromptu speech, she sees he's barely containing his anger. Good, if he punches first she might as well knock some sense into his stubborn head.

"Fine!" he finally replies "I'm going. If I come back I'll make sure to bring you the head of a negator or something. If I don't, get your bards to write a song about how I died gloriously against the ultimate enemy or whatever!" And then he's gone, planeswalking away in an instant.

It's the last time Radha sees him alive.

Radha doesn't have time to wonder about his whereabouts in the years that follow. Be it her ongoing duties as warlord or the resurgence or the Cabal, there is never a time to relax, to focus on the past. Not when people are counting on her.

Keldons learn not to mourn the ships that leave port never to return.

She does wish he would come back, of course. Particularly when she's foolishly captured by the Cabal herself. If he knew he'd probably plan some elaborate rescue just to laugh at her for getting caught in the first place.

When she is actually rescued by the Gatewatch, when she sees Karn among them, she lets herself hope just a bit. When all is done and Belzenlok is defeated and the Gatewatch leaves to handle Nicol Bolas of all things, she asks the golem about Venser.

Coming back to Keld, she takes the time for a funeral, even if there's no corpse. He might not have been born keldon, but he lived among them long enough to count, and what is more keldon than dying against the greatest of all enemies, making sure they lose their prize?

At least he was considerate enough to leave some phyrexians for her. The second phyrexian invasion comes with a wave of sleeper agents and whole new mechanical horrors, and apparently they dedicate a significant portion of their forces just for Keld. She'd be flattered if she wasn't busy unearthing sleeper agents and tearing apart ground soldiers. It takes her people weeks to find their footing and finally clear out the core of Keld and Skyshroud, which is when the enemy deploys their omenpaths, each spewing wholes armies of new enemies.

Leading them is a familiar face, if covered by layers of phyrexian butchery. Most of his body is gone, surrounded by a floating shell whose tendrils move every which way. Even as it appears to send out orders to its soldiers, the face at the center barely moves, like it is nothing more than a blank mask or decoration.

She has seen far too many familiar faces put to use by phyrexia. Their sleeper agents had sunk deep in Keld before they'd even realized something was wrong. She knows what phyrexian deception looks like.

This isn't deception. This is mockery.

Keldons do not take kindly to mockery.

The cold anger she had been holding onto since the beginning of the invasion heats up into an inferno but, for once, she does not let it down immediately. She's smarter than that: Phyrexia had fought them tooth and nail, but this is not a battle of attrition, it's an overwhelming show of force. A final act to break her and her people, in body and spirit. So she needs to throw all she has back at them.

Rather than roaring at the sky above, she closes her eyes, reaching back to the oldest lessons she had been given. The knowledge of the elves of Skyshroud, of reaching out to nature itself. She calls for the anger in Keld's mountains, and the indignation in Skyshroud's forests. Draws the mana from the leylines themselves to her. It is crude and painful, but good enough for what she needs.

When she finally lets out a war cry, it is with the power of all the earth under her feet. The mana shining so bright it is almost blinding as it spreads from her to each person standing beside her, then everyone already fighting then every non-phyrexian she can reach. As one, they charge.

And at last the phyrexians learn fear.

#magic the gathering #short fanfic #radha #venser

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racerchix21 · 3 days

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I’m combining my Sexy Sunday and Several Sentence Sunday posts this week. I got tagged by @sinderellanightwolf & @bidisasterevankinard.

This idea came from Sin so shoutout to her and now I present to y’all Heaven Can Wait but Alpha Can’t

Also y’all look at this gorgeous edit Sin sent me a little bit ago!!

He’s not supposed to pay more attention to any one customer for extended periods of time especially if the customer happens to be an Alpha. But he’s Angel Lovelace, the highest paid Omega dancer 4 years running and the rules don’t apply to him at least not to the extent that they do to everyone else. The perks of his best friend and his mate owning the place he guesses.

The alpha he’s been dancing for all night has long since stop trying to play it cool and is leaning as close to the stage as he can without being on it. When he leans down he can see the alpha’s brilliantly blue eyes are starting to bleed red and Buck shivers at the feeling of slick.

“NO. NO this can’t be happening,” Buck thinks to himself. “My heats have always been easyish to track and it wasn’t supposed to happen for another 3 months if he’d done the math correctly. The only reason my heat should be early is if I’ve met my mate. FUCK.”

#BuckTommy #Evan Buckley #Tommy Kinard #Stripper! Omega Buck #Alpha Tommy

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smdevisp · 1 day

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Dark Triad isn't a triad?

This post is a spontaneous idea about Dark Triad, Fuuta's friends and himself.

There were a lot of posts about Dark Triad, it's referring to some elements of nature and other theories, and they all are interesting. I prefer to look at it in a simpler way, just a quick overview of my thoughts on these alliance.

First of all, I'm interested in these handsome guys who definitely don't have gambling addiction. Who are they?

It's known that character's closest ones have eyes, and Fuuta follows this rule too. No one in DT has eyes, their appearance is average, nothing special, just some fantasy costumes. It shows that Fuuta doesn't know these people in real life, so he can't know exactly how they look. They are just anons for him who also seek 'justice' and share his ideas. Some of them are depicted several times, probably it means that these persons Fuuta has memorized (but still doesn't have any clue about their appearance).

And everyone thinks that the pink-haired guy is Rumerie. Of course, Rumerie has played part in that 'game', it was claimed by creators (they said that one graffiti in Backdraft is a mix of Pazuzu and Rumerie). But in fact, these three guys are not linked to the DT. They are Fuuta's real friends (groupmates?), with whom he spends time in the game centre.

It's a speculation about their possible identities.

The logic is simple. When the game centre is shown up, Fuuta appears with red color, which is his inverted profile pic (first it's shown as cyan, and then it turns to red).

So, I just inverted original pfps of the guys from his university.

But for the blue one I have two variants: one that is showed above, and another one, the person who blames Fuuta for what he did to Killcheroy.

So, as it shown on the pics, people from Dark Triad have D_T in their nickname while others (and Fuuta) don't. MuscleMan, Yuta, Onizuka don't have one, and Avyxs, Rumerie, Ryuu (?), Kim (DT is written in Japanese) have. There also other people with DT, at least one named AAA.

Arguments, that those guys aren't Dark Triad:

Except those people who are shown to be Fuuta's 'game' allies, those guys have faces. They are his friends from the university, and he spends time with them.

When Fuuta reads comments on the Internet, those guys are minding their business. They don't write comments, so they don't participate in the bullying. Some of them appear later to comment on his post about harassment (because they are studying at the same university).

Fuuta is bored at the gaming centre. He tries to position himself far away from them just to check comments on Twitter. This detail can mean that his phone addiction contributed negatively to his relationship with his friends, making him distanced, and death of Mahou-chan also shook his mental state. As it's seen in the very beginning of Jihen Joutou, Fuuta doesn't even have the eyebags, but in Milgram he appears with huge ones.

And now we're returning to the title.

Dark Triad isn't a triad?

I think someone has already done that but I'll repeat.

Dark Triad isn't a triad. Triad has meaning 'three', which is Fuuta's prisoner number, and there are more than three people in DT alliance. So why it is called Dark Triad?

Possible reference to The Dark Triad theory, and now it's really about number 3.

TDT is a psychological theory about three types of personality: Machiavellianism, narcissism, and psychopathy. Let's take on closer examination and decide whether it correlates with Fuuta or not.

Machiavellianism: exploitation of others, indifference to morality, self-interest.

Narcissism: pride, egoism, lack of empathy, grandiosity, dominance.

Psychopathy: antisocial behaviour, impulsivity, egoism, lack of emotions and empathy, pathologic lie.

Fuuta inherited some of these traits. His actions are mostly oriented on his own profit, and sometimes he is hypocritical. People who have traits of Dark Triad have problems in interpersonal relationship due to their harsh behaviour. They lack honesty, kindness, mercy for others, they show antisocial behaviour; they also can have traits of neuroticism (fear, anxiety, envy, jealousy, loneliness, other negative states), irresponsibility.

DT has different forms, such as Dark Tetrade (+ sadism), Vulnerable Dark Triad. And the last here is interesting, because it mostly has the same description as classic DT, except the stimuli. Impulsivity of DT individuals is caused by external stimuli, while VDT individuals mostly rely on their own thoughts and feelings, they are introverts. Also VDT includes BPD.

Out of these I can say that Fuuta is 100% not a psychopath. This personality type doesn't actually fit any character in the cast. But psychopathy also includes using means of self-stimuli, such as gambling, addictions, search for risks. That's the only trait that can be related to Fuuta because he probably had problems with gambling before.

In fact, psychopathy is mostly about lack of empathy. These people experience distorted emotions, they can easily commit a crime impulsively and don't feel any regrets. They are unable to communicate with other people, they are hypocrites and pathological liars. This is not about Fuuta, because he is an average person.

He shows some of narcissistic traits, such as egoism, will of superiority, self-interest. Fuuta is described as kind-hearted, coward person, but his concept of 'bad' people and justice is distorted. He is unable to take the responsibility for his actions, preferring to blame someone else, not himself. And yet he seeks admiration from others, he wants to be a 'hero'.

Machiavellianism implies person thinking of other people as of tools. Fuuta, in fact, doesn't think so. He only calls Kazui a possible weapon due to his physical strength but he doesn't use it for his sake.

In fact, he shows mostly neurotic behaviour (strong reaction to stress, him thinking he can't do anything to improve his life).

So, does TDTT in fact have something with Dark Triad?

Probably, yes. It could be linked to Dark Triad members or to Fuuta in some traits, mostly neurotic and narcissistic. The question is, why this alliance is called Dark Triad, because in fact it's not about three people. Three is Fuuta's number, and also it's a number of people bullied in Jihen Joutou. And even if trying to link Dark Triad to those victims, it's impossible (because they simply don't have such traits).

I would like to see some thoughts on these too, because implying Dark Triad theory of personalities seems interesting to me.

Also, in Kim's nickname DT is written as ダークトライアド (daaku toraiado), which is also Japanese title of TDTT.

#milgram #fuuta kajiyama #im totally normal about fuuta kajiyama

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