I had a dream last night that my sister was dating a famous actor who was sort of a cross between Michael Fassbender, Tom Hiddleston, and a literature professor I took some classes from in college, who was starring in some weird production of “Macbeth.” In the dream I wanted to “steal” him from her, or rather convince him that I was a better match for him than my sister (which, lbr, I definitely would be). My undergrad advisor, who co-teaches and is really good friends with the lit prof, and whom I had a kind of unhealthy crush on, was also there for some reason. I think in the dream I was into both of them, but I knew my advisor was married and I didn’t want to break up his marriage.

I guess Tumblr is going to act as my dream diary for the weird dreams I manage to remember.

Last night I commented on someone’s Facebook post about Israel, the Labour Party, and the IHRA definition of antisemitism so I went to sleep expecting to get into a fight about that. But then I had a dream that I was yelling at him about Taika Waititi and how terrible Thor: Ragnarok was and he was calling me a racist because of that. Also, for some reason I had to print out his dissertation, which was 1000 pages, while mine was a measly 200 and had pictures (it doesn’t) and somehow my dissertation defense involved a bunch of people acting it out. And it merged in my head with my undergraduate honors thesis, which was about W.E.B. DuBois’s philosophy of race, and there was an issue about whether I’m allowed to write about that because I’m white.

ruffboijuliaburnsides:

marypsue:

hopelesslehane:

ladyeternal178:

saladmander:

ok but like when did self-sacrifice become synonymous with death? writers seem to have forgotten that people can make personal sacrifices for the greater good without giving their lives. plots about self-sacrifice and selflessness don’t always have to end in death. suffering doesn’t have to be mourning. you can create drama and emotional depth on your show without killing everyone. learn to explore the meaning of living rather than dying

Death. Is. NOT. The. Only. Way. To. Advance. The. Narrative.

Fun things to sacrifice for your loved ones in your free time that don’t include death and actually set up for a whole new season of high level drama:

– humanity (mostly applicable to sci-fi/supernatural genre)
– memories (mostly applicable to sci-fi/supernatural genre)
– love for that special someone (mostly applicable to sci-fi/supernatural genre)
– emotions (mostly applicable to sci-fi/supernatural genre)
– rank/position/
– yourself/your brain/your skills (give yourself over to bad guys and become their brainwashed agent so your loved ones live)
– years of bloody ruthless traditions to make way for peace (hi lexa and fuck jroth tbh)
– freedom (includes that of speech/mind/will)
– your grandpa’s fortune
– hell even material possessions have that girl sacrifice her goddamn house so they can pay off her gf’s student loans or whatever juST STOP KILLING CHARACTERS TO FURTHER YOUR PLOT

Other things to sacrifice:

– your most sought-after goal

– a strongly-held belief or conviction

– your own chance at happiness

other fun things to sacrifice:

-a finger
-an eye
-10-20 years of your life
-some of your vitality or dexterity
-your ability to magically see in the dark
-your proficiency in battle axes
-your good looks
-your memory of the man who killed your wife
-everything but your head

philosopherking1887:

philosopherking1887:

Reading late Tolstoy (“What Is Art?”) makes me faintly nauseated.

Why is this all big? I didn’t type it as a heading.

Fucking Tumblr, stop copying Facebook’s bullshit.

He idealizes and fetishizes “the laboring man” and the peasants so much, it’s like he thinks they don’t have sex. Or only have sex for the necessary purpose of procreation. Like, dude… you know that most folktales and folk songs are about sex in one way or another, right? It’s not all God and Jesus. The French didn’t invent lust in the 18th century.