How regeneration works.
  • me:so basically the doctor is a computer with a cloud
  • me:when there's catastrophic system failure, the hardware can't be salvaged
  • me:but all the data's backed up on the cloud
  • me:so it transfers
  • me:but the thing is that the replacement computer isn't the same model as the previous one
  • me:it might be a laptop or a desktop
  • me:it might be an apple or a pc
  • me:it might overheat or crash every twenty seconds
  • me:god help you it might be running linux
  • me:and the new software will read the files strangely, or scramble them, or not be able to open some at all
  • me:point being, even though technically no data was lost
  • me:the user interface is now completely different
  • me:and that's how regeneration works.
  • friend:
  • friend:
  • friend:
  • friend:You spend too much time thinking about this.
  • me:it's a lottery.

10 Metaphors Explaining Why I Can No Longer Love You

1. You bleach your teeth with venom to look pleasing while you kill. My lips are eating away at themselves. These are the chemicals of your poison reacting with mine.

2. You set your lungs on fire, when your thoughts strain your limbs, to burn breaths out of your life. You press your mouth on mine, begging for my oxygen. My lungs will not return the breaths you’ve burnt. I do not have to breathe for anyone but myself.

3. There are pieces of our ghosts in the spaces between us. The ghosts in your dark rooms have found their way into mine.

4. You look for a brighter light but find a darker tunnel. To you, everything seems out of reach. It’s not your hands that will get you there.

5. I stutter and you shame my tongue for slipping on itself. You fail to realize the irony of your discomfort as my fingers shake.

6. I scan my body and see yours. You’ve disposed me of myself. I do not exist.

7. I was generous enough to share the privacy of my own thoughts. You said poetry is just another excuse for people to stop making sense and not have to feel bad about it. I still regard you as art.

8. I fuck for the speechlessness. You fuck for the screams.

9. There is a blue birth mark on your shoulder and red vines down the backs of your thighs. Needles prodded blue skulls into your back and there is a picture of the scabbing underneath the red dress in your trunk. Dresses come in many different colours. Mine are black.

10. Where are you?

—  Alessia Di Cesare, 10 Metaphors Explaining Why I Can No Longer Love You

I wanted to share my reply to some mommy blogger who wrote a screed claiming that “Tony Stark is a big fat jerk.”  (Why do I engage the doofuses, I wonder – and yet, it’s a bit of a lark…as unfair as it is…)  Anyway - here’s what I rejoined:

>>Anyone who says Tony Stark is a jerk hasn’t been watching these movies closely enough.  Tony is the saddest, most tragic, and to my mind, most heroic figure in Marvel comics AND in the MCU.  His entire storyline is that he’s a man striving to be a better man – the former warmonger who becomes a man who only wants to save the world and avoid fighting, the former womanizer who is now in love and committed to the woman he adores, the man who shields both his body and his heart with armor (literal and figurative). 

Tony’s story is that he is NOT a “superhero” – he’s no supersoldier, god or monster.  He’s a human being surviving by his wits and intellect.  He builds things because he has an almost-obsessional need to protect the world and the things he loves.  When he fails, it’s not because he’s a jerk or a bad guy - it’s because he’s a metaphor for all humankind and the things we try and try to invent and make work, so that we can make the world a better place. 

Tony is really the only figure among the Marvel heroes who does grow and change, who tries and fails and falls and gets up and tries again and again.  Thor is always going to be Thor.  The Hulk is a kind of storybook shapeshifter – his own sort of tragedy.  Cap is his own mythic self, a stand-in for a past age of golden heroes and the “Greatest Generation." 

But Tony Stark – he is US.  He’s our own age of marvels (literally) and science and technology, and our struggle to stay human and ethical in the midst of all that, and in the midst of all the threats from "outside” (what do you think the Chitauri are stand-ins for?  Or the evil robot army?  Metaphors for threats to our safety - which we’ve seen; which Tony has seen – from both humans and tech…).  We TRY to stay human and ethical, but sometimes it doesn’t work and sometimes we crash and burn – but the battle goes on, and we get up and try again.

He’s HUMAN and yes, he’s a jerk sometimes, seemingly – but Tony Stark’s trajectory is forever onward and upward.  He’s every inventor who ever failed 99 times for every one success; he’s every one of us who tries to stay real while surrounded by all the tech taking over our lives; he’s everyone who thinks they’re inferior to all the “real heroes” around us but still tries to be good and do the best we can.  He’s everyone who falls in battle - no matter what sort of battle it is (evil aliens and robots – or families and work and just life…) – and picks themself up and hurls themself back into the fray again. 

He’s everyone who ever built a suit of armor around their heart and their feelings because they’ve been through so much pain. 

That’s why I love Tony Stark and I always will. 

He’s no “big fat jerk” – in many ways, he’s the biggest hero of them all.>>

dead metaphor A metaphor that has supposedly been used so often that it has lost its capacity to describe one thing in terms of another, and no longer operates as a metaphor. Do we think of the heart when we say that this definition strikes the heart of the matter. The question of whether or not a dead metaphor is still a metaphor has been debated in recent years. Metaphors may not be surprising –I'm skating on thin ice here–but they can still work as metaphors. Zoltán Kövecses explains: “The ‘dead metaphor’ account misses an important point… . The metaphors … may be highly conventionally and effortlessly used, but this does not mean that they have lost their vigor in thought and that they are dead. On the contrary, they are 'alive’ in the most important sense–they govern our thought–they are 'metaphors we live by.’” Some poets, such as Samuel Johnson in “The Vanity of Human Wishes” (1749), make a point of invigorating dead metaphors. Giambattista Vico contended in The New Science (1725) that all language begins with metaphor and that the first metaphors were drawn from the human body. A great deal of what we think of as literal speech consists of dead metaphors, as when we say “the mouth of a river,” “veins of minerals,” “murmuring waves,” “weeping willows,” “the bowels of the earth,” and “smiling skies.” We speak the vestiges of ancient metaphorical language.

— A Poet’s Glossary by Edward Hirsch

See also: cliché, convention, metaphor, personification

anonymous asked:

Why does Creative hate squirrels?

Whenever I get a question like this, I feel like a confused pastry chef. It’s like we’re making these delicious pies and cakes and ice cream sundaes, and they’re awesome and everybody agrees they’re all made of ingredients we all want, and then somebody comes up and is all HEY HOW ABOUT A PICKLE ON TOP and we’re like, um, hey, welcome to the kitchen, but no, we do not think that would taste good together. And they’re like WHY DO YOU HATE PICKLES???

We don’t hate pickles, or squirrels, in a vacuum. We like creative elements that make sense together and create a tasty whole. Maybe you disagree that the goal should be creative elements that make sense together, or maybe you disagree that pickles conflict with the desserts we’re making, or maybe you feel we’re already using pickle-adjacent ingredients in our pies and sundaes and it makes no sense to exclude pickles while we’re at it. We do what we believe in our heart is the best and tastiest work we can, but maybe we’re just way off. It’s possible. (Cue people sending me hundreds of dessert recipes with pickles in them, with urls like “dillsundaesforever” and “cucumbersandvinegararegoodincakeiswear dot tumblr dot com.”)

I do think there could be some other kinds of dishes where pickles would make more sense — pickles are great, both on their own and served up in the right context. But those brined-cuke-centric dishes tend not to be what we’re cooking up most of the time. If you look at all the desserts we work on and you’re fixated on the number of pickles in them, I get that it kind of looks like we’re anti-pickle in general. Truth is, we aren’t. As evidence, here is a picture I took of an informational sign, I think from an educational center in a national park here in the Pacific Northwest. Turns out there’s a local squirrel that shares a first name with me, and it sometimes drops things on people with little warning — so clearly, we are buddies.

Hope that clears everything up.

It’s like we found each other on two different dimensions. It’s like the universe conspired against us and no matter how hard we tried to reach the other, something kept pulling at our feet. It’s like I wasn’t supposed to meet you, but I did. It’s like you weren’t supposed to kiss me, but you did. And it feels like when we look at each other, we can almost see the other; almost understand the other—just not enough. And so lost words become old love letters and hidden glances become a metaphor for our ‘almost’ chance,

For our 'almost’ love.

—  ((The universe conspired against us))
Kelsey Gustafsson