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I just keep thinking about two things:
- The amount of insults being flung at Clara for no apparent reason in the past two episodes.
- In 11’s run when there were those “lol!women” jokes (“What happened to time?” “A woman.” and “Is it an evil spirit?” “It’s a woman.”)
The thing about the women jokes is that they’re not even particularly insidious or promoting sexism, they just sound stupid when said out loud. It’s passive sexism, certainly nothing compared to some of the trash that kids this side of the Atlantic are internalizing from Disney and Nickelodeon. The lines should still be frowned upon, but it still seems like small potatoes.
I want to talk about the insults aimed at Clara, though. There’s Strax constantly misgendering women. Clara handily calls Vastra on her condescending faux-mystical garbage. Twelve labels her a control freak and Team TARDIS’s morality pet. Am I missing something? Clara is evidently meant be a relatable and likable role model, like most companions.
Hamster make breakfast
Hamster drive car
Hamster make tea with frend
Hamster plan dinner party
Hamster have Birfday
Hamster love life
Hamster happy to be live
Hamster love you
I hate when i lose something and my parents says “well i guess you didnt care about it enough” like you’ve lost me in a grocery store before so
The Moffat era has always been, for a lack of better word, very meta in its approach. It makes it a joy to analyse, there’s always new perspectives to consider, new hints to notice, in the rich tapestry in this story about stories.
The first two episodes of series 8 open an entirely new dimension to this. There’s such a colourful web of parallels, of relating the plot to the characters, of relating one characterisation to another. It lives and breathes meta in a way that is utterly captivating, because under the surface multiple levels of interpretation are just waiting to invite you to take a look.
The theme of masks and revealing what’s beneath in Deep Breath, for instance. A stolen face on a clockwork droid, the veil hiding Vastra, the Doctor’s new appearance and the question of whether what lies beneath can still be the same. Will we see him? And at the centre of it all, arguably the true focus, stands Clara Oswald - the girl with the “bubbly personality masking bossy control freak”, so used to projecting an image to the world which hides her less desirable trait, who the Doctor failed to truly see for so long. Pushed to her breaking point, Is she not the person who is truly revealed here?
And Into the Dalek… wonderful, striking Into the Dalek, with its exploration of soldiers and Daleks, of preconception and hate, and the meek light of hope. It asks the question of whether Daleks can change, but as its core, it’s about whether the Doctor can. Has he changed from the good man he once was? Has he found himself stuck in his own version of the truth? Is it the Dalek’s immovable drive towards destruction which makes them fail or is it the Doctor’s inability to let go of his own deeply-rooted loathing for his worst enemies, even for just this moment? Maybe, possibly, the Doctor has found a better teacher in Clara than the Dalek found in him. He rejects a (fellow?) soldier, but she doesn’t.
And these two perfectly constructed, self-contained universes are connected by common threads. Who are these people? What is their basic programming, just what are they capable of? What do you see when you get a glimpse at their souls?
This is, without a doubt in my mind, truly spectacular writing.
I didn’t catch the theme of “capacity for change” until now. Dalek Rusty channels its drive for destruction into killing its comrades. Vastra devours criminals in her larder, which pre-figures the macabre larder of the Half-Face Man, who himself teeters on the brink of human emotions. Clara’s own preconceptions of soldiers are altered by her conversations with Danny and what she witnesses within the Dalek.
What's the most illegal thing you ever did?
At Stanford there was this Professor who was a total bitch and she taught British Literature, which was cool. Except she taught only her opinions of the books and it didn’t help me as a writer. I went to school to learn new things to improve my craft, not have someone else’s opinions carved onto my forehead.
So anyway, for our final project, she asked us to write a ten page paper on why the color symbolism in Othello was so significant. I did some research and it turned out that she did her entire graduate thesis on this very subject. I was mad. This wasn’t teaching, this was boosting her ego. SO I wrote a ten page essay on why color symbolism in Othello wasn’t significant, satirizing it to the point of no return, saying that her opinion was an opinion and shouldn’t be taken seriously.
SHe failed me, needless to say. So in retaliation, I responded by baking a batch of brownies laced with weed and laxatives and delivered them myself to the professor hours before her big graduation speech. I told her that it was a peace offering, my way of apologizing and asking if I could do anything to fix my grade.
She refused to fix my grade.
In the end, she shit herself on stage.
I didn’t regret it.
Aside from a brief trip to the library, Bro and I spent most of today marathoning season one of Avatar: The Legend of Korra.
Avatar (both Korra and Last Airbender) is so, so good at internal consistency and thinking through the possibilities of its elemental manipulation system, it is fantastic.
Aren’t the games fantastic?
I was given the first game several years ago and didn’t play it long enough to form a memorable opinion. To be fair, I think another family member did wind up playing it through, and it was around the same time I’d been given Kingdom Hearts and wanted to play that whenever I could.
I meant the pro-bending matches. Sorry.
I love how alive the Buffy fandom still is despite the fact that it finished almost 10 years ago. Buffy will stand the test of time. Buffy is forever.
"not like other girls" is a real and painful isolating experience for a lot of people. It’s not just something people say out of internalized misogyny.
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