PREACH - Blog Posts
I’ve seen a lot of posts commenting on how there is no fake Star Trek fan or Trekkie, and how which series or movies you like do not determine if you can call yourself a Trek fan. They’re right, it doesn’t matter which Star Trek you like.
However, if you are the sort of Trekkie that comments on a photo of Sulu with homophobic and racist remarks, or the sort of Trekkie that makes violent threats in the general chat on Star Trek Online, or the type that writes an angry homophobic letter to an author of a licensed Star Trek book or even the type who comments on a photo of Captain Janeway with gendered slurs… You are no “real” Trekkie. Be it racism, misogyny, sexism, homophobia, transphobia or ableism, if those are the sort of values you espouse, your interests in Star Trek are superficial at best. You have missed the core values of Star Trek, from the IDIC to Starfleet’s credo. When Star Trek came on the air it instilled hope of a better future, so why are you so eager to drag us into the past?
My thoughts exactly
I hate, hate golden trio bashing fics. They have such a ride-and-die friendship like bro they raided a bank together then fled on a dragon they stuck together through so much — while having fights like normal friends do, but the best thing about them? They get back together. No matter what. Thus, coming out of a literal war in one piece, together; if that doesn't tell you how much they love each other then I don't know what to tell you.
106: Back in my days we could beat up those nazies all we wanted but nowadays it's always met with "violence ain't the answer" and all that kind of bullshit, hitting a nazi ain't a bad thing and
096: Sure sure old man b-but could you please not stand on the table and yell it in front of everyone, everybody is looking now ;-;
Well he's right, you should punch Nazis
songs and their stories
Did you feel the way I did, when Leith Ross said, ‘oh, what a wonderful feeling, to own and operate your life; oh, what a terrible burden, all my decisions are mine’? Like an eighteen year old child, a twenty one year old toddler; forever young; like a duckling imprinting on the first person it sees; like a sea turtle – just knowing your home is the sea, knowing you’ll be hunted the moment you break free; like wandering into a brand new city, like learning how to swim for the first time – a sudden shove, a lightning fast pull, static; like the taste of freedom, once sweet, turning into ash the more you realize accountability is yours, and yours only; like the world is too big, and at your feet; like a carousal – the feeling of wind rushing making you want to spin spin spin spin- ignoring the nausea rising; like wanting to dance in the rain, but unwilling to leave the warmth of the hearth keeping you cozy.
Did it make you think the way it made me, when James Bay said, ‘tell me how to be in this world; tell me how to breathe in and feel no hurt; tell me how could I believe in something’, and John Legend said, ‘I try to do the things, I say that I believe’? Like swimming upstream; like rolling the stone till you reach the peak, only to meet another hill; like wanting to change the world one droplet at a time, knowing life is too short for you see it become an ocean; like having faith in the flutter of tiny wings, if the butterfly effect is simply a myth, your existence would lose all meaning; like you’re watching the world from the sofa, popcorn shamefully at your feet when you need a break from the bloody, gory documentary; like knowing too much, wishing you were little; like a throat sore from screaming, hoping you could make someone else see; like falling falling falling, not knowing if there is an upwards from the rock bottom beneath your feet; like breathing in icy cold air, existence akin to slow ruin; like the sweat from holding onto someone’s hand for far too long - clammy, icky, safety.
-kpm ©