thebibliosphere: thebibliosphere: thebibliosphere:
thebibliosphere:
thebibliosphere:
thebibliosphere:
thebibliosphere:
I’m in a google chat hangout with some other editor/writer types and there’s one guy in there just furiously jacking off to the importance of suffering in narrative and I’m one more “I just think it adds depth to our humanity” away from mailing him that 50 gallon drum of lubricant on amazon because jesus god my dude give it a rest.
This just got linked in the chat, and it’s totally gone over his head. He’s now talking about how comedians are some of the most depressed people ever and that’s why creative people are so depressed because we see humanity for what it is and I swear to god if he was wanking any harder to his own genius he’d be on fire.
I just tried to very patiently tell him that maybe his view was a little skewed toward pessimism and not an actual reflection of reality and he just told me not everything in the real world is safe spaces, sunshine and rainbows and if I’d ever known suffering I’d understand that.
It shouldn’t be possible to feel 5 other people separated by several thousand miles worth of distance pull back from their screens and brace for impact and yet.
”Thank you, for making an assumption about my character based on my refusal to agree with your belief that suffering is the pinnacle of human experience. I’ll be sure to keep your good opinion in mind literally never.
As for “if I’d known suffering” I’m not going to get into a personal pissing contest with you, but I will point out that there are two cancer survivors in this chat, and someone who lost a loved one recently, and would thank you kindly to refrain from further invalidating their concept of pain and strength with every single comment you make. You literally told one of them they hadn’t gone through enough in life to understand your perspective of the world, presumably based on that time a girl said no to you and how it reflected the overall narrative arc of your life wherein no one seems to realize the true genius of your mediocre shallow depths.
And if you think that was rude and I hurt your feelings I’d tell you I’m sorry but if you think about it, I’m really just helping you reach the highest form of human experience according to you. You’re welcome.
I’d also like to thoroughly refute your idea that our capacity for pain is our defining trait as a species, and instead politely argue that the true narrative intent behind exploring suffering is to point out our inherent capacity to survive it. More than that, to recover from it.
War is hell, people commit atrocities and death is inevitable and yet we hope.
Hope is a survival instinct. It is one of the purest, most human things
we will ever experience and it’s fundamentally rooted in our DNA. We
hope the dawn will come, we hope the branch will hold our weight, we hope the tiger will not eat us,
we hope the rain will come and water our crops, we hope tomorrow there
will be work so we might feed our families, we hope, we hope, we hope.
There will always be those who run toward danger, not to face their own morality, but to spare others from theirs. But it’s the people waiting on the other side to offer care and compassion who piece the world back together again.
We take pictures of sunsets and blue skies and make up stories about gold at the end of rainbows and if you don’t think creating art is a means of creating safe spaces with which to experience the full gamut of human experience and emotion through healthy and safe means, then my friend, we have a lot more to talk about than I currently have the patience for. But I’m willing to try if you are.
Secondly, your portrayal of grief in your narrative is not “the most accurately human” as you put it when C____ suggested it felt a little wooden. Which leads me to believe you really have no idea what the emotion feels like beyond a shallow passing acquaintance with the inconvenience of someone experiencing it. Otherwise you’d know people don’t only cry at funerals, but they also laugh. They tell jokes, they comfort each other through the darkness because that’s what we as a species have always done. We look into the dark never ending night of reality and hear the wolves howling at the mortality of the cosmos and we light fires and tell stories about the coming of the dawn and just generally stick together and hope tomorrow will be better.
And just while I’ve got your begrudging attention: the dark brooding loner hero protagonist you’re so in love with because you believe it in some way represents your superiority above others, is nothing more than the male equivalent of the “I’m not like other girls” trope. Discuss.”
via http://ift.tt/2ljva4y
thebibliosphere:
thebibliosphere:
thebibliosphere:
I’m in a google chat hangout with some other editor/writer types and there’s one guy in there just furiously jacking off to the importance of suffering in narrative and I’m one more “I just think it adds depth to our humanity” away from mailing him that 50 gallon drum of lubricant on amazon because jesus god my dude give it a rest.
This just got linked in the chat, and it’s totally gone over his head. He’s now talking about how comedians are some of the most depressed people ever and that’s why creative people are so depressed because we see humanity for what it is and I swear to god if he was wanking any harder to his own genius he’d be on fire.
I just tried to very patiently tell him that maybe his view was a little skewed toward pessimism and not an actual reflection of reality and he just told me not everything in the real world is safe spaces, sunshine and rainbows and if I’d ever known suffering I’d understand that.
It shouldn’t be possible to feel 5 other people separated by several thousand miles worth of distance pull back from their screens and brace for impact and yet.
”Thank you, for making an assumption about my character based on my refusal to agree with your belief that suffering is the pinnacle of human experience. I’ll be sure to keep your good opinion in mind literally never.
As for “if I’d known suffering” I’m not going to get into a personal pissing contest with you, but I will point out that there are two cancer survivors in this chat, and someone who lost a loved one recently, and would thank you kindly to refrain from further invalidating their concept of pain and strength with every single comment you make. You literally told one of them they hadn’t gone through enough in life to understand your perspective of the world, presumably based on that time a girl said no to you and how it reflected the overall narrative arc of your life wherein no one seems to realize the true genius of your mediocre shallow depths.
And if you think that was rude and I hurt your feelings I’d tell you I’m sorry but if you think about it, I’m really just helping you reach the highest form of human experience according to you. You’re welcome.
I’d also like to thoroughly refute your idea that our capacity for pain is our defining trait as a species, and instead politely argue that the true narrative intent behind exploring suffering is to point out our inherent capacity to survive it. More than that, to recover from it.
War is hell, people commit atrocities and death is inevitable and yet we hope.
Hope is a survival instinct. It is one of the purest, most human things
we will ever experience and it’s fundamentally rooted in our DNA. We
hope the dawn will come, we hope the branch will hold our weight, we hope the tiger will not eat us,
we hope the rain will come and water our crops, we hope tomorrow there
will be work so we might feed our families, we hope, we hope, we hope.
There will always be those who run toward danger, not to face their own morality, but to spare others from theirs. But it’s the people waiting on the other side to offer care and compassion who piece the world back together again.
We take pictures of sunsets and blue skies and make up stories about gold at the end of rainbows and if you don’t think creating art is a means of creating safe spaces with which to experience the full gamut of human experience and emotion through healthy and safe means, then my friend, we have a lot more to talk about than I currently have the patience for. But I’m willing to try if you are.
Secondly, your portrayal of grief in your narrative is not “the most accurately human” as you put it when C____ suggested it felt a little wooden. Which leads me to believe you really have no idea what the emotion feels like beyond a shallow passing acquaintance with the inconvenience of someone experiencing it. Otherwise you’d know people don’t only cry at funerals, but they also laugh. They tell jokes, they comfort each other through the darkness because that’s what we as a species have always done. We look into the dark never ending night of reality and hear the wolves howling at the mortality of the cosmos and we light fires and tell stories about the coming of the dawn and just generally stick together and hope tomorrow will be better.
And just while I’ve got your begrudging attention: the dark brooding loner hero protagonist you’re so in love with because you believe it in some way represents your superiority above others, is nothing more than the male equivalent of the “I’m not like other girls” trope. Discuss.”
via http://ift.tt/2ljva4y
