HAVE YOU EVER REDISCOVERED A BAND YOU USED TO REALLY LIKE AND ITS JUST LIKE ‘WOW WHY DID I EVER STOP LISTENING TO THIS THIS IS THE GREATEST BAND EVER’ AND THEN ALL THESE OLD BAND FEELINGS COME BACK AND ITS LIKE GOING BACK IN TIME TO WHEN YOU USED TO LISTEN TO THAT BAND A LOT AND YOU JUST FALL IN LOVE WITH THE BAND ALL OVER AGAIN AND ITS BEAUTIFUL
the year is 2053. a girl lays on her bed wearing vintage ugg boots. ‘I was born in the wrong generation’ she sighs as she listens to taylor swift and cries over a one direction poster.
some kids are actually gonna be like this you do realize that
A comment on Of Dice and Pen: Sexism in Steven Moffat’s Doctor Who? The anonymous reader who sent this to me added:
This is one of the key problems I have with so many forms of Sci-fi media and the anon summed it up perfectly. In a futuristic world, in other universes and on other planets, the presence of today’s sexism is not only just as problematic as it is in any media - it also doesn’t even make logical sense in the majority of cases. Why is the Doctor, a thousand-year old alien who has been just about everywhere and experienced a melting pot of cultures, acting like the sexist old men from down the pub?
One of the reasons sci-fi is a fantastic genre is the pure escapism it offers, and unlike, say, fantasy, it can avoid the “But in the past sexism was present!” tropes and justifications that are often used (see GoT..) with relative ease. But so often it completely fails to do so, the writers unimaginatively falling back on today’s stereotypes - and the missed opportunities to be progressive in such a small way is very disheartening. I don’t know if it’s down to lazy writing or simply being oblivious that doing this is both very problematic andmaking their world less believable, but I can only hope more sci-fi writers manage to avoid this trap in the future.
“Have you ever had things that you didn’t talk about,” he says, voice small but loud in the tiny room, “Because it felt like too much? Like, it felt like it was the stuff that defined you, defined your life, and so there was no point to talking about it because it was like—I don’t know, like it was more than could ever be explained to anybody else. Like a fish trying to explain what water is.”
“And then you try to talk about it,” he continues. “And it just—when you put it into words, or even write it down, it just feels so small. Like, it doesn’t matter that it felt like the world was ending. The second it comes out of your mouth it feels small, and stupid, and like you shouldn’t even be complaining at all. And like it shouldn’t have mattered, that if you were better it wouldn’t have mattered. So when you talk about it you’re just giving yourself away, you’re just showing people how weak you are.”
I’m with Scalzi on this.