modern speakers

i keep seeing the stereotype that latin is a less poetic language than greek, and i’d like to push back on that. for one thing, i don’t think any language is inherently more poetic than another, though some use certain signifiers that we [modern english speakers] might consider poetic more often than others. secondly, poets and poetry flourished in ancient rome, regardless of modern aesthetic concepts of what kind of marked speech “should” comprise poetry. finally, the complexity and cleverness of the word order in latin poetry cannot be conveyed in an english translation because it must be converted into a language with strict word order. it’s like installing windows on a mac. look.

inter quas phoenissa recens a volnere dido
errabat silva in magna; quam troius heros
ut primum iuxta stetit adgnovitque per umbras
obscuram, qualem primo qui surgere mense
aut videt, aut vidisse putat per nubila lunam,
demisit lacrimas…


among them phoenician dido, freshly wounded,
was wandering in the great forest; the trojan hero, as he first
stood near her and recognized through the shades
her gloomy [form]–like one who, early in the month, either sees
or believes he has seen the moon rise through the clouds–
let fall his tears…(aeneid  6.450-5)

we have two feminine nouns here, dido and the moon (luna), and they merge seamlessly into a metaphor via the adjective obscuram, which appears to apply to both of them at second glance; but at first glance, you don’t find out that vergil is describing the moon until the very end of the next line:

obscuram, qualem primo qui surgere mense
aut videt, aut vidisse putat per nubila lunam

so as the audience you experience the same uncertainty as aeneas here, the subject of the metaphor suspended and unclear until the end. but vergil’s metapoetic word order is obliterated by english word order. 

all of this is also written in beautiful dactylic hexameter, which most english-speaking readers wouldn’t even realize is a meter, if they happened to be reading a translation that attempted it.

tl;dr: don’t call latin a less poetic language because it doesn’t conform to preconceived modern english notions of poetics.

jayordragon  asked:

Okay so I have a story in which a third-generation Chinese girl goes to an alternate dimension. Her legal name is Sha-heng but she goes by Sarah because she wants to seem more American. However, Sha-heng is easier for the people in the alternate dimension to pronounce, and she ends up wanting to learn more about her culture by the time she comes back to our dimension because she's gotten so used to being called Sha-heng. Is this okay?

Wanting to Learn More About Culture Because of Chinese Name

To be honest, if your character is 3rd gen, more likely than not Sarah would be her legal name, due to some assimilation with the previous generations. It’s still likely she’d have a Chinese name, but it’d either be a middle name (i.e. Sarah Sha-heng) or something that Mandarin speakers might call her. 

Also, as someone who’s 2nd gen, it’s really likely Sarah’s going to seem more American to Chinese people who were raised in China/Taiwan/HK, at least, although it does depend on how she’s raised. But it’s likely she’d be more assimilated with American culture to begin with.

I can’t speak for other Chinese, but as someone who hears her Chinese name pronounced correctly on a somewhat regular basis, I’d need more than that to want to connect with my heritage. 

–mod Jess

Unless you establish a fairly large “hmm” type situation in her mind, where she’s kinda been on the fence for learning more about her culture for awhile, you’re not going to get a tipping point with that. Like, it took being in multiple university classes that focused on Native life/modern struggle+ guest speakers accepting me back into the culture despite my assimilation+ my whole life of being told “you’re Native I just know nothing about it” for me to get to where I am now.

And even then, I don’t even pretend to know everything. I’m never going to reach the point of somebody who was born and raised in their own culture, and that is a struggle for me. It’s a completely unique experience to dive back into where you came from (especially when language is involved and you weren’t bilingual from childhood— it’s a lot more work to learn a language later in life) and you can’t really use first gen stories for research.

It’s possible to get back to your culture after being assimilated, but it’s a super complicated thing that isn’t just filled with wonder and curiosity. There’s grief and pain and anger and happiness and a whole bunch more, so it’s very much not the “was content being Americanized and suddenly isn’t.” There needs to be a progression.

~ Mod Lesya

Stuff that makes the pronoun discussion more complicated:

  • The thee/you distinction is both an example of singular/plural form and a familiar/formal form. “You” is plural but would also be used for individuals as a mark of respect.
  • Because English lost thee/thou, modern speakers who haven’t had a good Shakespeare class tend to assume that it’s the formal form simply because it’s unfamiliar
  • Tolkien decided to confuse everyone by occasionally using “thou” to represent deferential language because it’s archaic even though it’s actually the familiar form. This is especially confusing when characters shift from “thee/thou” to “you” because it means the opposite of what it would mean historically

Zenith Midcentury TURNTABLE Stereo Console with All New Modern Upgraded Electronics, Speakers, Turntable, Amps. Buy it now on Etsy- etsy.com/shop/retromodradio

#vintage #stereo #console #retro #midcentury #midcenturymodern #midcenturyfurniture #vintageaudio #refurbished #repurposed #interiordesign #vintageshop #50s #60s #madmen #recordplayer #audiophile #antique

Destiny characters' favorite modern day foods

The Speaker: Filet Mignon

Ikora Rey: tea and cake

Zavala: black coffee

Cayde-6: pizza

Shaxx: Buffalo wings

Saladin: Salad, but the leaves are made of iron and the dressing is molten gold

The Cryptarch: Ramen noodles

Eris: those burgers with the black buns that turn your shit green

Amanda Holliday: starbucks

Atheon: Atheon is one of those people you see on those shows about weird ass addictions who literally eats glass

Crota: McDonalds happy meal (with the toy being a sword)

Oryx: Meatloaf and whatever other stereotypical dad foods there are

Skolas: Cap'n Crunch

The Stranger: mystery-flavored airheads

Petra: fruity pebbles

Mara Sov: Dairy Queen

Uldren Sov: anything so long as Evanescence’s “Bring Me To Life” is playing in the background

Brian Jacques was an English writer who was most beloved for his Redwall series, which included 22 books in total. Other books of his include a short series about the Flying Dutchman, a few picture books, and a cookbook, but the never-ending stories of Redwall were the ones that won him popularity. His descriptive use of storytelling, and the warmth in Jacques’s delivery, from delectable made-up foods, to his admirable characters, shines through even in ink on a page. His purpose for writing and his profound sense of imagination and inspiration are only part of the reasons he should be better acclaimed.

Jacques was born in 1939, Liverpool, England, where he grew up by the docks. From a very young age his family and friends discovered that he had a special skill for telling stories. In grade school at age ten he wrote a story about a bird and a crocodile, which his teacher thought was too good to be written by a child. In fact, the teacher accused him of copying the story, and he was since framed as the classroom liar. This didn’t discourage him from writing; rather, it made him realize that he loved to write.

At age 15, Jacques quit school and left home to be a sailor. He traveled across the Pacific and Atlantic, purely for adventure—but after the sea life took its toll on him, he returned to Liverpool where he had several different jobs. He’s been a stand-up comedian, a Bobby, a bricklayer, a boxer, and a bus driver among other things. However, during the time he was a milkman he wrote stories for children at a School for the Blind. This is when Redwall really began.

One of the things that makes the Redwall series so unique is the detail and description—this was so that those who were blind could visualize for themselves the exciting, terrifying, and suspenseful stories told to them. While Jacques’s literary debut was actually a few playwrights that were brought to life on stage, his good friend and English instructor read Redwall the manuscript and, unbeknownst to Jacques, sent it to a publisher. One thing led to another, and Jacques suddenly had a contract with the publishing firm and his very first book was bound and printed—respectively titled Redwall.

Redwall is the abbey he created in a country called Mossflower, which he based off of his childhood neighborhood. Here was the setting in which mice and rats waged war. Like J.K Rowling created the world of Harry Potter, Jacques created a world of talking animals in the least childlike way. Villainous sea rats were based off of men he encountered on his travels over the ocean. The constant rivalry and conflict in the stories are based off of life in World War II, as Jacques experienced the Battle of Britain. Hares were based off of the RAF’s (Royal Air Force), who protected the people of Liverpool during daily bombings.

However the most prevalent factor in all of the Redwall books is courage, as well as pride and bravery. Each story fosters a main character—whether it be a mouse, a squirrel, or a badger—who has been wronged in some way. These “wrongs” span from oppressive tyrannical forces, slavery, and kidnapping. As a result the characters overcome and defend themselves, their home, or, more specifically, Redwall. This theme comes from Jacques’s determination to protect his home and to be proud of where he comes from.

Something else that occurs in Jacques’s writing is incredible loss. In every Redwall book, several characters die or are murdered, if not severely mistreated. Jacques experienced war firsthand and lost a brother. He includes tragedies such as this in his stories to, as realistically as possible, draw connections to his readers. Reason being, grief is something everyone endures one day, and it’s in literature that some find comfort and a sense of coping at the same time.

Why Jacques uses animals to convey these intense, real life lessons, is simple: “Mice are my heroes because, like children, mice are little and have to learn to be courageous and use their wits.” This is partly where his purpose for writing comes through. Jacques started Redwall for children in the first place. They are the intended audience.

Redwall was first published in 1986. The main character was a mouse called Matthias, who discovered a sword special to the Abbey, and with it beheaded a snake and defeated villain Cluny the Scourge. In 1989, the sequel Mattimeo was published; this covered the topic of Matthias’s son, who was captured and enslaved by a fox named Slagar. Matthias and others set out to bring back the kidnapped and defeat the fox army. Martin the Warrior, published in 1993, takes place before Matthias and Abbey itself. Martin is a slave of weasel Badrang the Tyrant and escapes with companions to Mossflower country, where in the end he establishes Redwall. These three books among the 22 are associated together because they have related characters who eventually all use the same sword to defeat oppressing forces.

In all of the Redwall stories, however, Martin the Warrior has been linked to each of them. It’s in this way that Jacques manifests in great detail an entire world. Although Jacques has told Redwall readers again and again that there is no religion in his world, in a way Martin the Warrior is portrayed like God. In Redwall Abbey there’s a tapestry of him with rhymes and prophecies on the back. One of the rhymes reads, “I am that is,” which, unscrambled, spells Matthias. The Abbey dwellers tell stories about Martin and continue to remember his legacy. In addition, Martin the Warrior visits characters in their dreams, and for a select few villains, haunts them.

Jacques also created languages. There’s Loamscript, which only few characters are able to translate—it’s an equivalent to Latin for modern-day English speakers. There’s also something called Mole Speak, which is described as more of a dialect than a language. All of the moles in the stories talk like this, and for first-time readers it’s usually a bit difficult to understand. For example: “Harr, he’m be noice an’ soft, sur. Baint no rock nor root to stop us’ns, straight furrer we’m a-thinking” (63). Jacques has also had to explain that “burr” and “hurr,” phrases most used by the mole characters, means “um.” It has been concluded that when Jacques was a truck driver and drove into the Somerset region of England, the accents he heard inspired Mole Speak. What’s more, he uses parts of old languages to enrich his characters’ dialogue. “Eeulalia,” just for instance, is a war cry badgers say; Jacques has explained that it is Celtic/Norse for “victory.”

As song writing is another thing Jacques has been experienced in doing, he includes lullabies and ceremonial songs in his stories. These songs are written as poems in the structure of the books, but they actually have melodies and tunes. In the 60’s, Liverpool had a light shine on it when the Beatles became popular. It was then that Jacques, his friends, and his brothers started a band together. They were called The Liverpool Fisherman. Not only did Jacques include in this world historic figures, godlike deities, and various kinds of accents, he made an entire culture.

There was, evidently, a TV show adaptation of Redwall. There were only three seasons, each one covering the stories of Redwall, Mattimeo, and Martin the Warrior, of course. The first episode aired in 1999. It was relatively popular in the UK, France, and Canada—because it was French and Canadian television programs that most wanted to launch Redwall the show; eventually it appeared on American PBS, as well. Each episode opened with Jacques himself, either describing a brief summary of the episode, or saying his famous line: “In our imaginations we can go anywhere. Travel with me to Redwall in Mossflower country.” Potentially, there was going to be a fourth season starting in 2003, but because there was no financial support from American broadcasters, the show never picked back up.

Even near the end of his life, Jacques could not believe himself as a writer. Meaning, he could not believe he was doing what he loved for a living. He wrote in his garden, no matter what kind of weather there was. He wrote with a typewriter and his favorite pen. He once told the New York Times, “I have a working-class ethic. I get up in the morning, and I still feel guilty about being a famous author.” His very last book from the Redwall series was published in May of 2011, The Rogue Crew. It was in this book that the main character was inspired by a fan. Although he was known for vastly detailed writing, throughout his entire writing career Brian Jacques believed that he did not create characters well. As such, most all of his characters are created after real people in his life. Constance the Badger was created after his grandmother. Mariel the Mouse was created after his granddaughter. He, himself, is a character, too—Gonff the Mouse Thief.

As for the School of the Blind, Jacques had been an active, loyal patron until he died in 2011. He will always be remembered for his generosity: the creation of fantastical adventures following mice, squirrels, badgers and moles, for the sake of those who could not see. Moreover, for those who found great pleasure in growing up with stories developed from the very ground of Liverpool, the very source of compassion, and loveable characters. For these reasons, Brian Jacques should have been better recognized when he was alive, but also appreciated now that he’s left his legacy of Redwall.

Logansport Mall of the Dead

The other week, my lady friend took me on the mother of all perfect dates: a day trip to a (nearly) abandoned mall in the middle of a small town in rural Indiana. 

Now, a few things of note before we start this article, the first being that I’ve never had the guts to ever go urban exploring. I honestly don’t know how some people are able to sneak into old, boarded up buildings and take a downright ridiculous amount of beautiful photos before slipping away without getting caught by security. Knowing my luck with cops, they’d all be having a donut party inside the day I decided to sneak in. So as pansy as that makes me sound, I’ve never had the opportunity to explore an abandoned building, despite how much I’ve always wanted to.

Second, the lady friend told me up front that this mall only had a few stores left in it, but I, being the naive city slicker that I am, assumed that “a few” meant anywhere between six or eight. Surely a mall can’t survive with anything less than that, right?

Oh, dear readers, I had no idea.

My jaw actually dropped when I walked inside. The atmosphere of this place was downright bizarre; over hidden speakers, modern Top 40 music was blasting for absolutely no one, while the little remaining decor looked as if it hasn’t been touched since the mid-80s. Large metal gates covered every single window, with the faintest dusty outlines of store logos still somewhat visible overhead. This place was a dead zone, and yet the lights and the music continued to reassure me that it was still somehow open for business.

Almost all of the storefronts were simply sealed up and forgotten about. Kiosks were dusty and neglected. For me, the strangest sights were all of the empty vending machines. Even the ones that weren’t had old, washed out, long expired treats on the inside. I was half tempted to actually buy something from one of these machines and see what kind of time capsule would come out, but picking one that actually worked would’ve been a 50/50 gamble that probably wouldn’t have been worth the 25 cents.

It’s not as if this mall was doomed from the start, either. As we walked through, my lady friend kept giving me a sort of back-in-time tour of the place, pointing out where each store used to be. FYE, Walden Books, the food court, a little independent toy store…she painted a picture of a small-yet-fun mid-90s hang out spot. Alas, something happened, and now there are only a whopping three stores left: JC Penny’s, Dunham’s Sports, and a freaking GNC. Not exactly the hip place to chill during the summer anymore.

What remained of the food court was now hidden in shadows behind the busted fountain. A pair of shoes and some cleaning equipment indicated that there was a maintenance man wandering about who had the misfortune of being tasked to fix a broken fountain in the middle of an abandoned mall. Knowing he was roaming around somewhere in this giant empty wasteland made me feel a bit on edge, like a teenager in a bad slasher movie.

By the way, the fountain and the food court were directly placed in front of the most fascinating part of the entire mall, and the only place that housed even the saddest little spark of life: “The Amazing Space”.

“The Amazing Space” was a tiny little nook smack dab in the middle of the mall that acted as something of an arcade. The multicolored walls and flashing lights must’ve made this the go-to spot for kids back in the day, like a mini Chuck E. Cheese in the middle of a shopping center. 

Lights flashed and arcade cabinets beeped, but literally no one besides the two of us were around for these nostalgic sights and sounds. The radical narrator from Crazy Taxi tempted me over and over to sit down and crash through half of LA, but I decided against it on account of the fact that the seat looked like it had never been clean since its installation. 

Also, anyone else remember those terrifying “swinging clown” vending machines? We had two near my house growing up, and they always scared Little Steve’s Aladdin socks off. Fortunately for us, ol’ Ziggy up there wasn’t even plugged in on that day.

I think the most bizarre find of the day had to be this crane game. Upon first glance, these were cheaper-than-dollar-store-level plushes, with not a single licensed character to be found. However, looking through the right side window revealed one hell of a time capsule. 

Dora the Explorer was probably the most recent addition to this vending machine, because  right next to her were an original talking Taco Bell Chihuahua and an original Pound Puppy!

These three toys were so impossibly out of place within this claw machine that I’m actually beginning to think that the owners of “The Amazing Space” just filled it with whatever they could find in their basements and at various garage sales.

Soon the depressing nostalgia became a bit too much for us, and we decided to leave this ghost mall. But not before stumbling upon the greatest treasure that it had within its crumbling walls:

Surrounded by shadows and loneliness was a single child’s ride based on The Busy World of Richard Scarry. Does anyone else remember this franchise? I was obsessed with it as a toddler, and Lowly Worm was my character of choice. Again, though, Richard Scarry stopped being popular around the late ‘90s, and was practically driven into obscurity by the early 2000s. What was Lowly Worm and his apple car still doing greeting customers into this deserted mall?

I kind of wanted to pick it up and take it home with me. Absolutely no one would’ve bothered to stop me. 

So that was my trip to a practically abandoned shopping center. It was eerie, to say the least, and certainly more than a little depressing. I don’t want to get too political on RFR, but there was a big, shiny Walmart just across the street from this place, its parking lot practically full. If you can think of a better physical analogy to describe the fall of the American Dream, I’m not sure I’d even like to hear it.

Honestly, though, I kind of want to raise a glass to Logansport Mall. Despite literally every single thing going against it, it’s still trying to hang in there for as long as it can, providing nostalgia bloggers in the Midwest with article materials for a few more years.

Dying Heritage: Furry Language Down to Less Than 200 Native Speakers

Most modern furries only know the old tongue by the loanwords that have survived in English; yiff, scritch, murr. And a few thousand intrepid furries hoping to get closer to their cultural heritage might even have reached a conversational level. But as recent as two hundred years ago, it was a different story.

In 1785, it was estimated there were 300,000 speakers of the furry language. It was during this time that the great literary works of our culture were written, such as Rocko The Wallaby Dandy, The Learned Mouse and the Fool, and The Conniving Carnival Caretaker: A Scoobert Hound Mystery. (Like so much of the literary wealth of Furry, they are known better by their English language adaptations.)

Revival efforts have met lukewarm success, partially owing to the complex system of glyphs in which Furry is written, such as :3 and *^w^*. Though it seems doubtful Furry will ever achieve the status it once held, now may be our last chance to learn Furry from living speakers, and at the risk of editorializing, it is vital that we do so. The day we lose our language is the day the words of our ancestors fall mute, and we will have no choice but to study The Looney Toons in the language of our fursecutors.

Here’s the thing they don’t tell you:
You’re meant to get over it.
Whatever it is, you’re meant to move on
And when you don’t
(Or can’t)
Whatever it is, becomes unimportant
In everyone’s eyes but yours.

I can deal with every modern invention
Except speakers in every single store.
At some point we should be forced to deal with
Our own silence.

Headcanon Wednesday: Quarian Languages

I’ve been thinking a lot about quarian languages recently. I think my thoughts about them are still evolving (and will probably continue to do so, especially as I start analyzing the small sample of vocabulary that we have), but here’s a first shot.

The phrase “quarian language” is as much a misnomer as the phrase “human language” would be—just as there’s not just one human language, there’s also not just one quarian language. But it is fair to say that quarians have less of a diversity of languages than other sentient species; during the population crash of the Morning War and the Exile, whole cultures were lost, along with their languages. Furthermore, the tradition of the Pilgrimage and of switching to a new ship upon adulthood has the side-effect of splitting up families, making it harder for groups with smaller populations to retain their languages. The loss of so many quarian languages is seen as one of the great tragedies of the Exile, a cultural blow as profound as their loss of much of their artwork. But nevertheless, language diversity does exist on the Fleet—and is preciously guarded by those quarians who speak a non-dominant language.

Keep reading

The Emergency Exit

Description: The reader, captured by demons, is on the verge of snapping and revealing all. It seems too much luck that Sam and Dean could save her. Based off/leading up to this imagine
Words: 2,165
Warnings: Psychological mind games…
Author’s Note: After 4 complete rewrites (don’t even get me started) we’re there! So, anon, you said long but turns out I’m not even at the point of that original imagine yet and I don’t want to make everyone wait for eternity! Enjoy part 1 of 2! There’s a keep reading break but if it doesn’t show on mobile, just click on the post :)

Request: Please make a fic of Crowley based on your last Crowley imagine! I really liked it!
&
Please make it as deliciously evil and long as possible

The Winchesters weren’t coming this time. There was no way they’d even know you were being held here.

In fact, there was really only one conclusion you could come to now as you stared at the rotten wooden wall in front of you. You had looking at it for far too long a time now and it was becoming difficult to keep a thought in your head you’d been there so long. Or maybe it wasn’t all that long at all? Crap, you were losing concept of time, that wasn’t a good sign. 

But the conclusion? Right. You pursed your lips, you were getting distracted from what you’d been trying to think about, it was useful when your ‘visitors’ came, but in between it felt as if you were losing yourself. You needed to get your head back in the game. Your hands bound, the cold sweat, the voices… God, those voices. The second you tried to sleep, they were there taunting you. They weren’t what you’d expected, they were you, they were your family and friends, and fuck, they were everywhere. 

It all lead to one thing: You must have finally lost your mind.

Keep reading

SHAKESPEARE WROTE ALL HIS PLAYS IN MODERN ENGLISH, OR EARLY MODERN ENGLISH IF YOU WANT TO BE A DICK ABOUT IT. OLD ENGLISH AND MIDDLE ENGLISH ARE LANGUAGES THAT WOULD BE UNINTELLIGIBLE TO MOST MODERN ENGLISH SPEAKERS.

THE REASON WHY SHAKESPEARE’S WORKS MAKE NO SENSE WHEN YOU READ THEM IN YOUR HEAD BUT BECOME SUDDENLY CAPTIVATING WHEN YOU SEE IT AS A PLAY OR MOVIE IS THAT IT WAS NEVER INTENDED TO BE READ AS A BOOK, BUT TO BE SEEN AS A PERFORMANCE.

immigrants

I always find it hilarious whenever the European nationalist and far right parties start spewing shit about pure “British/French/Italian etc” culture

  • Yo Nigel Farage, you poor fella- how about we deposit you in pre-Roman Britain and you can tell the Celtic-speaking inhabitants about British culture and the mysterious people called the “English”? And after the Roman invasion, you can tell them that apparently they are exactly the same as the invading Anglo-Saxons. Or the Normans later. Because what we think of as “British”- or even just “English culture” is actually an amalgamation of all these influences. And you know what? Far more of us around the world have actually LEARNED English and absorbed British influences due to colonial rule. Shall I mention how, gasp, English is itself a language born from immigrants! The Anglo-Saxons, to be precise. And even so, English back then would sound quite unintelligible to a modern speaker because modern English absorbed huge amounts of French vocabulary.
  • Members of Marine Le Pen’s National Front? You guys can go back 2000 years ago and tell the Gaulish tribes about this pure French culture, which will make no sense to them because they are a people of Celtic origin, and French identity is something that developed when this melded with later Roman influence- when the region was conquered and made into the province called Roman Gaul. French itself is a Romance language not a Celtic language! Now, that’s cultural imperialism. Or you could go to Rome itself during the Roman empire and tell them their emperor Septimius Severus isn’t a real Roman, because why, he was of North African origin! Or that emperor Marcus Julius Philippus isn’t a real Roman too because he was born in the Roman province of Arabia and has Syrian ancestry. Because hey, multi-ethnic empires have been a thing since antiquity, and-despite what far-right nationalists would like to have you think- it didn’t signal their death knell or anything quite so dramatic. They managed just fine.

What is intensely disturbing is that so many nationalist groups around the world love using this notion of cultural purity- which many people swallow when a quick glance at human history easily reveals the truth.  Most modern ethnic identities and national cultures have been formed through absorbing diverse groups of people for thousands of years. Almost noone is “pure anything”. No culture has remained static. The Han Chinese actually absorbed a lot of indigenous groups, Japanese culture absorbed influences from Tang dynasty China, the Persian Empire absorbed influences from various other earlier Iranian civilisations like Media. Before there was Babylon, there was Sumer and so on. Immigrants have always been the norm, in fact. 

And somehow people immigrating to Europe today normally and not through violent invasions that actually involved things like mass killings and forced conversions at the point of the sword are a mortal threat to European cultures. Really. This notion that immigrants are threatening some mythologised “cultural purity"  is nothing but a bold lie because this pure, homogenous culture never existed. Yes sure, it may have taken people years instead of an 8 hour plane trip to get there but human migrations, cultural exchanges, invasions and intermarriages are way older than many people think- way older than written history for that matter.

After all, let’s not forget the mother of all migrations began anytime between 60,000 and 125,000 years ago when this strange new hominid stood upright somewhere in East Africa for the first time and then later began a long trek over thousands of years to colonise the rest of the world- which no other hominid had ever managed. Actually, to extend the irony- the scientific evidence seems to be showing that as a species, we were the immigrants that caused other hominids to go extinct either because we killed them all and/or out-competed them evolutionarily. In Europe? Neanderthals were there long before the first humans arrived around 40,000 years ago, after which they shortly became extinct. 

Map of ancient human migrations, based on the common African origin of humans. The numbers represent the approximate thousands of years ago humans settled these places.

Really puts into perspective what invasive immigration that destroys, erodes cultures and is actually a mortal threat to entire peoples really looks like, no?

i was at an amusement park about a week ago and it’s one of those places that have “modern” music playing on speakers for the whole park yanno. so it’s towards the end of my time there and me and my friends were standing in line at the concession stand waiting to refill our soda cups. when all of a sudden ‘Dance, Dance’ started playing, loud and clear. and as soon as the music started, me and about fifteen other people in the vicinity stopped in our tracks, eyes wide, and strained our ears to make sure we were hearing it right. and then the bridge leading up to the chorus played, and all of us collectively let out a shout of joy and started singing along, making eye contact every so often. and then some of us crossed paths again while my group and i were leaving, and we exchanged smiles and high fives and that’s basically the story of how i bonded spiritually with emo strangers in the middle of a theme park.