Update ~ Schedule Change

I am going to change my post date to Sunday, I will have the animation done by then. I will have to postpone the newest fanfic chapter to that day, too, so I can focus solely on the ani. It is a bit of an amibitious project, but I think it will be rewarding when it is finally completed.(〃∀〃;)

Thank you, everyone! 🙇 This year has been quite the journey!

Tales of the Blood Iris Citadel ~ 9/1/2021

Fanfic: Tales of the Blood Iris Citadel

Game: Tōken Ranbu (刀剣乱舞 Pocket)

Synopsis: A journal-entry/travelogue-style fic that chronicles the everyday happenings in the citadel of my Tōken Ranbu account. Written from the first-person perspective of a female saniwa. The modern girl has crossed dimensions using a mystical spell and is cast into a feudal-style acropolis, where she is given the ability to anthropomorphize ancient swords, in order to ward off evil spirits and keep time from being permanently altered by magecraft-using revisionists. There is no romance in this story — only a cozy, slice-of-life fic.

* This is meant to be a fun fanfic exercise — so instead of my usual narrative restrictions, 1.5K ~ 3K words, this will vary from a few sentences to a few paragraphs per day.

9/1/2021 ~ September is the start of crisply, cold winds. Autumn leaves have begun to flutter like butterflies without bodies; it is the season that the young Tantō gather large piles of foliage in their small arms. During the summer months, old lime trees shed their growth onto the parched grass and a frisky Gokotai was chasing his Siberian tiger friend around the tree-trunk.

“Come back,” he heaves, while wading through a tall patch of ferns, “I am your friend,” he exhales in remnants of a whimper, “I have been named a tiger-killing sword in the past — wait up, I just want to play…”

His golden eyes had a subdued shimmer and his hair has corkscrewed into a bunch of tiny silver wisps. I had approached him with a plate of cool, ice cream mochi, yet still, the boy continued to stare vacantly into the thicket. I talked to the somber sword as if I were addressing an actual human child, “I brought snacks, I think it’s best to take a break from this torrential heat, don’t you think?”

“But my friend…” Gokotai replied with a pink nose and trembling lips, “he ran away from me… because I am a sword, I suppose. But, tigers and swords… they really shouldn’t be compatible together anyway, right?”

He held himself in the gloom of a petrified stillness.

“There, there,” I interjected, sitting beside his anxiously quivering knees, “let us enjoy our snack. I am sure your tiger friend will join us, too, when he feels like coming out.”

“Is it really that simple? Just having p-patience?”

“Yes.”

Gokotai sat down with reticent fret stitched all across his boyish countenance, he reached over and plucked a sticky mochi cake from the plate with nimble fingers; and his eyes glistened after he began to nibble, mouse-like, on the treat. After a few more minutes, his vitality was replenished and his nervousness had frosted over into a collective calm.

“Thank you, Commander,” Gokotai said with a small ‘C’-shaped smile, a face timid and yet too earnest to be labeled simply as sheepish, “I must have faith that true friends will return when they’re ready to!”

As though the animal had fully comprehended our human conversation, his tiger friend leapt out of the ferns and perched himself in front of the Gokotai. The boy with the withering, ashen complexion then gasped in a sprightly cry as he opened his arms and embraced his furry companion! Seeing Gokotai’s confidence sky-rocket after a moment of doubt is one of the highlights of that time — and now, during the eve of September, the two friends can be seen belly-flopping and swimming through heaps of frangible little leaves.

That tranquil day was followed up by an unexpected, yet exciting event; after hours, I had decided to throw caution to the wind, and use my final request token, and then… I was bestowed with a larger than life Uchigatana: Sengo Muramasa, known as a legendary weapon among the shōgunate! I cheered in triumph as the hulking sword-man towered before me. His silver ahoge prickled up like the needly spine of a hedgehog and the rest of his silky, lilac hair cascaded around his vast shoulders!

Unlike the quiet eke of Kikkō’s enlistment, Sengo Muramasa had the aura of a conqueror! It was like standing before Oda Nobunaga or Alexander the Great in the flesh, Muramasa unleashed a loud, jovial laughter,

HAHAHAHAHAHA

The citadel felt like it shook for a moment, it was as if a mountain king had unleashed a howling wind upon a parish. Feeling shaken with chills and excitement to have such a mighty man join our calvary, I asked, “Is there anything I can bring you, as recompense for your service?”

“Yeah,” Muramasa said with the spangled night-sky flitting through his eyes, “got some saké to spare?”

TO BE CONTINUED

Previous Chapter – https://eggheadluna.wordpress.com/2021/08/31/tales-of-the-blood-iris-citadel-1

Tales of the Blood Iris Citadel ~ 8/31/2021

Fanfic: Tales of the Blood Iris Citadel

Game: Tōken Ranbu (刀剣乱舞 Pocket)

Synopsis: A journal-entry/travelogue-style fic that chronicles the everyday happenings in the citadel of my Tōken Ranbu account. Written from the first-person perspective of a female saniwa. The modern girl has crossed dimensions using a mystical spell and is cast into a feudal-style acropolis, where she is given the ability to anthropomorphize ancient swords, in order to ward off evil spirits and keep time from being permanently altered by magecraft-using revisionists. There is no romance in this story — it only exists as a cozy, slice-of-life fic.

* This is meant to be a fun fanfic exercise — so instead of my usual narrative restrictions, 1.5K ~ 3K words, this will vary from a few sentences to a few paragraphs per day.

8/31/2021 ~ At the tail-end of August is when I gathered these sheafs of parchment, ink is dribbling on the page like rain pattering down: drip, drip, drip. It is actually pretty misty this afternoon — my eyes wander out along the engawa, which now cradles a softly sleeping Hotarumaru. His back sighs breathelessly, it’s almost like staring at the back of a napping kitten!

Yoshiyuki chortled like the older brother I never had, this morning as he attempted to rouse me from my restful slumber. He told me that I twitched a lot in my sleep and then his boisterous laughter became sudden silence; he wore a thoughtful expression. The wooden floorboards creaked as he walked away… moments later, he returned with a steamy, clay cup.

“Be careful,” he advised me as I extended a weary hand out of a sheath of blankets; Yoshiyuki seemed concerned about whether I could properly drink tea without spilling it all over myself. I took a soft sip: it was chamomile tea with a spoonful of honey stirred in.

The gentle aroma tickled my nostrils. The fresh, herbal sapidity lingered on my tongue — it tasted almost as though my kind companion had ground up earth apple sprouts in a mortar. He would have had to been gardening at dawn! After he made sure that all was well and good, Yoshiyuki shyly sauntered away.

Today, I summoned a new stranger into our citadel — an Uchigatana with glasses, adorned in a snow-white waistcoat with a flapping blazer and wry smile, “I’m Kikkō Sadamune. What does my name mean, you may ask? Can’t a poor sword have a secret or two?” I replied simply with, “Do what you want, I don’t care about your secrets as long as you prove yourself to be useful to our ranks.” He smile was like a mask as he gave a curt bow, Kikkō then blended into the shadows of the hallway — and like a spider-lily with arachnid legs that tingle in the damp, dark — so too did this Sadamune-danshi absorb himself into the shadows.

That day, my calvary and I dispersed along the hamlet hills, the mountains were smeared in a thick, violet rouge. Hotarumaru leapt for joy after collecting his first rainbow hanafuda; unfortunately, after our sortie on the hillside, my callous call to action in Kamakura left Shishiō as an almost-broken blade. With my responsibility as their commander, I felt particularly guilty because recently Shi-san’s clear gray eyes had been alight at the sight of his first steed.

The black mare was given to us after we saved Kyoto from an army of historical revisionists, we were told that her name was Takadateguro. He had held the purple reins and jostled around his golden sidetail in exuberant glee. Takadateguro was rescued in Shishiō’s nearly-cracked state; upon hearing the news of his mare’s condition, the male sword heaved a sigh of relief as the mineral fissure in his arm was polished away by a faceless togishi.

There are many improvements that I can make as these boys’ leader, while I practice writing with an ink-brush pen, something that I unaccustomed to — being a trans-dimensional girl and all.

TO BE CONTINUED

Animation Week 〜 8/29: Promo ⑶

Note: I was inspired by the work that I did on Juniper’s “Butterfly Effect” sequence, so I wanted to do an ethereal, ghostly-white naked/cry-run scene! The celestial form-on-black BG motif kind of reminds me of the Newtype scenes in Gundam…

😅 it should end up looking pretty cool — I am a tad nervous about animating the hair, but I won’t get it right until I try!

Animation Week 〜 8/29: Promo ⑵

Eighth Frame of Scene ii.

I am completely done with Scene ii. — now onto Scene iii., which will be a bit longer since it is a running-ani.

Update @ 3:30 – I went through and cleaned up/proofed all of the storyboards for Scene iii., and then put them into a Need to Edit folder and it seems as though the running will be a total of 34 frames!

Goals for the Week: August 29, 2021

Update: Positive court things happened the week before last, so I spent this past week letting the good news sink in and allowing myself to feel happy. Not getting too absorbed in my tasks. I apologize for not giving a notice or update, but I had difficulty processing that things were finally going to be peaceful, like they were for us last year. It seems like 2021 has been a strange year for everyone.

New Goals:

✔️ Animation PV ⑵

Śakra pokes her head into a sunlit room with Artemis and them starts running towards a distant baby.

✔️ Read 3 Books

Age of Innocence (Edith Wharton)

Don Quixote (Miguel de Cervantes)

I’m a High School Boy and a Bestselling Light Novel author, strangled by my female classmate who is my junior and a voice actress, Volumes 1 & 2 (Keiichi Sigsawa)

←if I have time→

✔️ Character Designs

I may not have time this week, since I will be focusing on the animation first-and-foremost, but I have really been wanting to design Opal Watson and Ace (42). I have written a small background section, detailing why these up-and-coming characters are near-and-dear to my heart.

Background Info: Opal Watson, along with the mischievous fraternal twins: Vincent and Uri, are from a novel I wrote in middle school. Opal is tormented girl, who has somewhat of a Cinderella story – she is abused by her step-father and step-siblings; on top of that, she is relentlessly bullied at school because she is poor and shy. Vincent and Uri both have a crush on her, so they relentlessly tease her, and she alienates herself from them because she perceives their playfulness as ridicule and confides in the ghost of a boy who drowned in the lake behind her family’s new home. In the Aria Adler mystery series, I want to write a re-imagining of this in the third book.

The same goes for the character of Ace. He was from the main novel that I focused on in high school, and the vestibule in which I channeled all of my angst and inner-turmoil. Diverging from “The Ice Prince” story that I wrote in middle school, Ace’s parent story is a bit more misanthropic. “Placebo 43” was about a group of people with fractured memories that are forced to participate in a post-death, purgatorial death game. None of them remember their real names, so they go by distantly remembered objects or whatever glimpse of something that they saw right before they died, and they use that as a nickname. The exception is Ace’s partner, 43, who doesn’t remember anything and has thus regressed to having the mind of a child. Ace is a punk-rocker with a heart of gold, who protects her with all he can, but it is not easy… when the other pairs are more savage and cunning with their antics. As the narrative unravels, each unwilling participant remembers more and more of their past life.

I wrote a story in elementary school, too, it was a hybrid-fusion between Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy. About a pair of friends named Jake and Dave. I don’t remember much, other than one of them was the wisecrack and the other would always sigh at the other’s silly jokes. I don’t remember what I called it, but I’ll just refer to it as “The Adventures of Jake and Dave”.

I also completed the sixth week of my book review series, please check it out – if you are interested: https://eggheadluna.wordpress.com/2021/08/28/lunas-mini-book-review-series-6

Senki Zesshō Symphogear x Yūki Yūna wa Yūsha de Aru Crossover Cover Photo Link – http://www.pixiv.net/member.php?id=13099803

📚Luna’s Mini-Book Review Series ⑥

※ I was motivated by BiblioNyan’s article: http://biblionyan.com/2021/08/19/discussion-synopses-writing, so every synopsis this week is written by none other than yours truly!

⑴ Haruhi Suzumiya, Volume 2

Subtitle: The Sigh of Haruhi Suzumiya

Author: NAGARU TANIGAWA

Rating: ★★★★☆

Spoilers: Yes

⚠️ Warning: There will be spoilers for the anime adaptation and the film – “The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya”, too; since I will be drawing parallels between the two mediums.

Mr. Tanigawa’s bibliography includes:

Gakkō o Deyō! (“Let’s Leave the School”)

Dengeki Aegis 5

The Closed Universe

Boku no Sekai o Mamoru Hito (“The Guardian of My World”)

Kagerō Meikyū (“Amnesia Labyrinth”)

Bokusatsu Tenshi Dokuro-chan Desu

Synopsis: In this serialization of the “Haruhi Suzumiya” series, the audacious leader of the “SOS Brigade” attempts to produce an indie film for their school’s cultural festival. How far will the brash Haruhi smear Asahina’s dignity and test Kyon’s patience before their deadline is due? And how will Kyon, Koizumi, and Nagato prevent Haruhi’s imaginative curation of reality from altering their lives permanently?

THOUGHTS

If I been Tatsuya Ishihara (dir. of “The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya” anime), I would have gone in the order according to the light novel’s continuity (instead of switching around the sequences), and here’s why: it would have given Haruhi more time to grow as a character. For those of you who know about the pre-festival arc of Haruhi Suzumiya, you will know that Haruhi has a big jerkass moment and is really abusive to Mikuru because she is jealous that Kyon likes her.

I have seen Haruhi get lambasted online for the scene where she spikes Mikuru’s drink, attempts to pressure Koizumi into enacting a love scene with her for the sake of the film, and hits her really hard on the back on the head several times to “try and make her color contact pop out”… yeah, it is totally reprehensible, and when I watched the anime… it made me lose a bit of respect for Haruhi, too. But, in defense of that happening… I think this arc is actually crucial to the plot.

You see, Haruhi has also been accused of being a manic pixie dream girl because she is quirky, beautiful, and drags the myopic Kyon around on her crazy hijinks. But, in truth, Haruhi having the capacity to be petty and selfish is proof that she is a subversion of that trope. She is just a teenage girl that happens to unknowingly endanger the fate of space-time with every stupid decision that she makes. I mean, what can you really do when the universe relies on the whimsies of a spontaneous teenage girl?

The light novel excels where the adaptation fails, because I think the audience needed more time after the festival to see Haruhi learn from her mistakes. Haruhi publicly humiliating Asahina and hurting her would have made more sense if it would have happened AFTER Kyon and Haruhi kissed. The novel also makes a great point of showing Kyon’s idyllically blind view of Asahina, often comparing her to a doll or a woodland faerie. Actual excerpt from Volume 2: Asahina had a little smile on her face. If sweet peas could smile, it’d probably look something like this.

The more I revisit the “Haruhi Suzumiya” franchise, the more respect I gain for Koizumi. I started focusing in on him more, because in “The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya” – it surprised me when Koizumi confessed that he had been in love with Haruhi the entire time. My partner says that I didn’t notice because I’m a girl, but despite that, Koizumi has always veiled his emotions and came off as the “wallflower” of the group. In Volume 2, while paying closer attention, Koizumi’s feelings are more transparent to me now.

QUOTES

⑴ “I was pretty sure we were going to find typical park doves. With her arm linked in the already worn-out Asahina’s arm (so she wouldn’t be able to run away), Haruhi walked through the forest park toward the street. Koizumi and I divided up the equipment and followed like local Sherpas trailing a film crew doing a piece in the jungle. We eventually arrived at a large shrine in the middle of the mountains. I hadn’t been there in a while. Not since a field trip in grade school.

Haruhi stood in front of a sign on the ground that said ‘Do not feed’ while spreading crumbs like she was trying to make flowers bloom on a wilted tree. I guess she can’t read.”

⑵ “And that would be a problem, huh? Based on what you’ve said, if the movie ends half-heartedly, this messed up reality will become our new reality. We have to force Haruhi to accept a conclusion in her mind, and that conclusion must conform to reality. And we’re the ones who have to come up with such a conclusion. Haruhi doesn’t think, and even if she were to, the result would always be chaos. If that’s that case, we might as well do the thinking for her. Still, why do I have to rack my brain for such a reason? Anybody out there who can shoulder this curse for me?”

⑶ “It’s not a laughing matter. Passing out flyers in a bunny-girl outfit had been a one-day affair, but this stupid filming coukd potentially go on until the day before the cultural festival. Asahina could go from refusing to stand in front of a camera to refusing to go to school. That would hurt me the hardest. Since I would no longer be able to drink her marvelous tea. Nagato’s tea has no taste, and Haruhi’s is bad on a fundamental level. Koizumi’s is out of the question. If I end up in a situation where I have to make my own tea, I’d rather drink tap water.”

⑵ A Tale of Two Cities

Author: CHARLES DICKENS

Rating: ★★★★☆

Spoilers: No

Mr. Dickens’s bibliography includes:

The Pickwick Papers

Oliver Twist

Nicholas Nickleby

The Old Curiosity Shop

Barnaby Rudge

Master Humphrey’s Clock

A Christmas Carol

Martin Chuzzlewit

The Chimes

The Cricket on the Hearth

The Battle of Life

Dombey and Son

The Haunted Man

David Copperfield

Bleak House

Hard Times

Little Dorrit

A Tale of Two Cities

Great Expectations

Our Mutual Friend

The Signal-Man

Edwin Drood

Synopsis: A tale of compassion and human decency, in the era of the French Revolution – awash with bloodshed, with a persecutive sense of “justice” enacted on its citizens. Lucie Manette and her love, Charles Darnay, are suddenly ensnared within the jaws of a system that is crunching down their happy life and family. Will the life of an innocent man be saved, or will the life of young Mr. Darnay be devoured by a corrupt regime?

THOUGHTS

Every time I take a breather from Dickens’s works, I am amazed at the fact that there has never really been a contemporary author that has matched the style of his prose. I felt that if someone tried to imitate his work, they would probably fall flat with the meaning or general corpus of the story. Mr. Dickens was a one of a kind story-teller, that’s for sure!

“A Tale of Two Cities” is a densely atmospheric narrative, with the characters woven carefully into its tapestry. Each voice functions as a voice suffocating under French Revolutionary depths; the corrupt and the oppressed both functioning systematically against each other. It had been awhile since I read “Great Expectations”, so I had forgotten that once Mr. Dickens sets the groundwork of the story, the last half hits hard.

I decided to do a spoiler-free version of this story, because it is just something you have to experience yourself. The core theme of the story seems to be that one pious action can start to break then chain of oppression. A truly moving tale, indeed. The story carries forth the strength of love, compassion, and perseverance; particularly, in the case of Lucie Manette’s tribulations with her father and husband, as well as the miraculous sacrifice that Sydney Carton made on his path towards redemption.

QUOTES

⑴ “Thus, the rustling of an Angel’s wings got blended with the other echoes, and they were not wholly of earth, but had in them that breath of Heaven. Sighs of the winds that blew over a little garden-tomb were mingled with them also, and both were audible to Lucie, in a hushed murmur—like the breathing of a summer sea asleep upon a sandy shore—as the little Lucie, comically studious at the task of the morning, or dressing a doll at her mother’s footstool, chattered in the tongues of the Two Cities that were blended in her life.”

⑵ “No fight could have been half as terrible as this dance. It was so emphatically a fallen sport—a something, once innocent, delivered over to all devilry—a healthy pastime changed into a means of angering the blood, bewildering the senses, and steeling the heart. Such grace as was visable in it, made it the uglier, showing how warped and perverted all good by nature were become. The maidenly bosom bared to this, the pretty almost-child head thus distracted, the delicate foot mincing in this slough of blood and dirt, were types of the disjointed time.”

⑶ “Lucie had, by that time, fallen into a stupor on the floor at his feet, clinging to his hand. Miss Pross had laid the child down on his own bed, and her head had gradually fallen on the pillow beside her pretty charge. O the long, long night, with the moans of the poor wife! And O the long, long night, with no return of her father and no tidings!

⑶ The Bell Jar

Author: SYLVIA PLATH

Rating: ★★★☆☆

Spoilers: Yes

Ms. Plath’s bibliography includes:

The Colossus and Other Poems

Ariel

Uncollected Poems

Fiesta Melons

Crossing the Water

Winter Trees

Johnny Panic and the Bible of Dreams

The Collected Poems

Selected Poems

• Plath: Poems

Synopsis: This descent into madness takes the form of a talented, young female author, and then we are forced to watch as her world warps into a nightmare. Neuroses surrounding the female condition stem into self-harm and an internal cycle of conscious defeat. Sylvia Plath’s alleged, tell-all roman à clef is a pitfall – headfirst into a spiraling rabbit hole, without an exit sign in sight.

THOUGHTS

The preface of this book was a little bit cringe, Frances McCullough describes this novel as “※ the female version of The Catcher in the Rye” and a “rite-of-passage novel for women”. If this book is the the “rite-of-passage” for women, then I don’t really want to be female anymore. This book is terrifying and a sand dune of misery, and now I think I understand where Kathy Acker’s feminist prose-style came from.

※ I know that I’m biased against things that are “for girls” because in media, things that are marketed that way are usually seen as less poignant, overwrought, and more sexual… because, you know, women in a nutshell (/sarcasm). An anime equivalent to this is that the original publication of “Revolutionary Girl Utena” (Central Park Media) was advertised as “Neon Genesis Evangelion for girls”… which is wrong on so many levels. I could go on a tangent, but the plots are nothing alike (other than having a psychologically-fueled premise) and also, the person who wrote that must have forgotten that “Neon Genesis Evangelion” has a cast full of mostly women. I am glad we are moving away from a less gendered society, because generalisations like that are obnoxious.

The equivalency to “The Catcher in the Rye” is kind of wrong, too. I would more compare Plath’s singular novel as an amalgam of: The Yellow Wallpaper (Charlotte Perkins Gilman), A Million Little Pieces (James Frey), and Eraserhead (dir. David Lynch). There are also allusions that make certain experiences of Ms. Plath’s self-insert character, Esther Greenwood, seem imagined. Such as a friend named, “Dodo Conway” (reference to the dodo in “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”?), red and yellow bricks (“The Wizard of Oz”?), and the fleeting glimpse of rabbit-eared balloons.

She also claims to have seen petrified, unborn babies “pickled in formaldehyde” before watching her medical student boyfriend, Buddy Willard, assist in a woman’s labor—she also sees words on a page scramble into a soup and thinks that she is hemorrhaging when she loses her virginity. This novel is either carefully-crafted criticism of traditional feminine roles in society or a strange, schizophrenic fever-dream.

Ms. Plath is a very talented wordsmith, I give her that—in the past, I have enjoyed the few fragments I have read of her poetry, but, I don’t know how to percieve a character or narrative when a said character returning to her family’s home in the suburbs is written with the same amount of pain and morbidity as being forced into electro-shock treatment, with no feasible explanation as to why the protagonist harbors that point-of-view. I am unsure if it is juvenile writing or a case of flagrant madness.

There is a part of the story that has aged like a basket of old avacado pears: The nurse came back, and the Negro edged off at a distance. I ate as much as I could of the baked beans. Then I rose from the table, passing round to the side where the nurse couldn’t see me below the waist, and behind the Negro, who was clearing the dirty plates. I drew my foot back and gave him a sharp, hard kick on the calf of the leg. The Negro leapt away with a yelp and rolled his eyes at me. “Oh Miz, oh Miz,” he moaned, rubbing his leg. “You shouldn’t of done that, you shouldn’t, you reely shouldn’t.

I didn’t think excerpt needed to be the focal point of the review, but I thought I should point out the blatant racism towards the end of the novel.

QUOTES

⑴ “I kept hearing about the Rosenbergs over the radio and at the office till I couldn’t get them out of my mind. It was like the first time I saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward, the cadaver’s head—or what there was left of it—floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast and behind the face of Buddy Willard, who was responsible for me seeing it in the first place, and pretty soon I felt as though I was carrying that cadaver’s head around with me on a string, like some black, noseless balloon stinking of vinegar.”

⑵ “The night before I’d seen a play where the heroine was possessed by a dybbuk, and when a dybbuk spoke from her mouth its voice sounded so cavernous and deep you couldn’t tell whether it was a man or a woman. Well, Hilda’s voice sounded just like the voice of that dybbuk.

She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist. The silence was so profound I thought part of it must be my fault.”

⑶ “I had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and saying ‘Ah!’ in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn’t, and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out.

Then he would lean back in his chair and match the tips of his fingers together in a little steeple and tell me why I couldn’t sleep and why I couldn’t read and why I couldn’t eat and why everything people did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end.

And then, I thought, he would help me, step by step, to be myself again.

But Doctor Gordon wasn’t like that at all. He was young and good-looking, and I could see right away he was conceited.”

Illustration from “I’m a High School Boy and a Bestselling Light Novel author, strangled by my female classmate who is my junior and a voice actress(or DashiShime for short)

NEXT WEEK

Age of Innocence (Edith Wharton)

Don Quixote (Miguel de Cervantes)

I’m a High School Boy and a Bestselling Light Novel author, strangled by my female classmate who is my junior and a voice actress, Volumes 1 & 2 (Keiichi Sigsawa)

※ The artist for this light novel series is none other than Kōhaku Kuroboshi – recently popular for their designs featured in Fate/Grand Order (Abigail Williams and Katsushika Hokusai) and the father of Ninomae Ina’nis from Hololive EN.

Lessening the Stigma Behind the Word, “Egghead”: Anti-Intellectualism and the United States

This topic has come and gone through my wired mind for the last year, the most profound time of rumination on the subject was during my reading of Philip K. Dick’s autobiographical thesis: The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick (2011), early in the year. PKD was subject to persecution and some frightening situations in his lifetime (i.e. there was an incident where his office was rigged with explosives, etc.) – due to the commentary and ideas in his science fiction novels being interpreted as “dangerous” by the autocrats of that time.

Despite knowing the distaste around the word “egghead” – in using the word in my username, I sought to destigmatize the once shameful term. I have a character with an egg as a skull, so… why the heck not? Furthermore, PKD had claimed that the origin of the word “egghead” actually has origins in Nazi Germany, and was carried over after World War II and then used by high-authority, North American figures (such as Richard Nixon, a United States president) to disparage astute thinkers.

PKD claimed in an interview for his novel, “The Man in the High Castle”, that the German word eierkopf was the origin for the English word: egghead. Indicating that Americans have possibly been using a Nazi insult to decry intellectualism for many, many decades – the last derisive use of the word was in 2008, in an article titled “Broken Eggheads Make No Omelets.” Which is disturbing, seeing as the Sturmabteilung regime used to beat people until “their skulls cracked readily against the pavement” [4], and thus their heads were compared to the fragile shells of eggs.

Like other phrases used by oppressive groups who have murdered innocent people and that have committed other terrible atrocities in the past, I think words like egghead should be reclaimed, as well as pro-intellectual thinking. The stigma surrounding the word shouldn’t be used against “eggheads”, but the people who are willing to use something with such terrible implications as an insult.

Sources and Additional Reading on the Subject

1. Aaron Lecklider, Inventing the Egghead: The Battle over Brainpower in American Culture (2013).

2. ^ Chris Roberts, Heavy Words Lightly Thrown: The Reason Behind Rhyme, Thorndike Press,2006 (ISBN 0-7862-8517-6)

3. ^ “Broken eggheads make no omelets”. Washington Times. Retrieved May 9, 2008.

4. ^ “Interview de Philip K Dick à Metz (France) 1977”. YouTube. 2013-09-19.

More about the character Luna, the figure behind the “EggheadLuna” mythos: https://eggheadluna.wordpress.com/2021/06/27/luna/

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