Pokémon: Let’s Go, Eevee!

I don’t think Pokémon: Let’s Go, Eevee! cured my depression; but, if any game could, it would be this one. It’s so positive and utopian, and the pokémon interaction mechanics healed my soul.

It took me 37 hours to finish the game, which brought me to a grand total of having caught 107 pokémon. I’m pretty sure I could get all 152 if I spent another 10 hours working at it, but I feel satisfied with what I have now.

What I appreciate about this game is how simple it is. Pokémon Sun and Moon featured a lot of needlessly complex gameplay systems geared toward professional “trainers” seeking to maximize their competitive potential. Even though it wasn’t necessary to engage with all of these systems, I found their presence overwhelming in the sense that there is A LOT of information that the player constantly has to keep in mind or actively filter out while playing. I’m therefore grateful that Let’s Go, Eevee! did most of the filtering for me, bringing it down to roughly Animal Crossing levels of manageable.

I also like the new pokémon capture system, which is an adaptation and improvement on that of Pokémon Go. On one hand, the simple motion controls mean that it’s difficult to play Let’s Go, Eevee! on public transportation. On the other hand, you no longer have to go through a twelve-step process to catch a damn Pidgey. The new experience-gaining and leveling system works well too.

The main problem with the game is that you can really only gain experience by catching wild pokémon, a process that requires pokéballs, which require in-game currency. Since you can only get a significant amount of currency by battling other trainers, and since each trainer will only battle you once, there’s a limited amount of money in the game, meaning that you can only do so much level grinding. Since your resources are limited, you’re kind of stuck with the first five pokémon you choose to develop (plus Eevee or Pikachu). This never becomes a serious problem while you’re making your way through the story, but it also means that there isn’t much room for experimentation or exploration of the game systems.

It’s worth saying that the graphics are gorgeous and the music is delightful. I’m more or less using my Switch as a handheld console these days, and it’s everything I ever wanted a handheld console to be. I’m looking forward to Pokémon Sword and Shield, and while I wait I am very much enjoying the memes.

That “Abandoned Mall” Feeling

After the porn ban, Tumblr users have ditched the platform as promised
https://www.theverge.com/2019/3/14/18266013/tumblr-porn-ban-lost-users-down-traffic

Tumblr’s global traffic in December clocked in at 521 million, but it had dropped to 370 million by February, web analytics firm SimilarWeb tells The Verge. Statista reports a similar trend in the number of unique visitors. By January 2019, only over 437 million visited Tumblr, compared to a high of 642 million visitors in July 2018.

Tumblr loses almost a third of its users after banning porn
https://sea.mashable.com/tech/2777/tumblr-loses-almost-a-third-of-its-users-after-banning-porn

But NSFW posts were the lifeblood of Tumblr communities, and when that left the site, many of the users fled with it. PinkNews reports that traffic fell from 521 million monthly page views in December to 437 million in January, according to SimilarWeb analytics. By the end of February, Tumblr only received 369 million page views. That comes out to 151 million fewer page views, or a 29 percent drop.

Tumblr has lost 30 percent of web traffic since December
https://news.ycombinator.com/item?id=19393500

This doesn’t surprise me at all. I run a reasonably popular non-porn, submissions-based blog and immediately after the ban was implemented, our numbers tanked. Submissions dropped from 25-35 per day to around 10-20, while the number of notes (likes+reblogs+replies) per post has dropped from 600-800 to 200-400. Unfortunately, we still see about the same total number of spambots and fake blogs in our notes. So at least from my own anecdotal experience, the ban did nothing except drive away human users.
That last post reflects my own experience. I used to get around 600 to 800 notes a day in 2018, while now I’m only getting about 350. Then again, I don’t really post anything these days, so that could be a factor as well. I was actually looking forward to Tumblr quieting down a bit, but the trolls haven’t left yet. Because of the relative silence, their mindless barking seems to echo even further, unfortunately. I’ve been putting more effort into customizing Twitter to be a less chaotic experience, but it’s still difficult to express a healthy and multifaceted personality on that trashsite.

The Sepia Tinge of Decay

Echo of footsteps
A sharp fluorescent buzzing
Empty grocery store

I spent way too much time watching Dan Bell’s Dead Mall series on YouTube last night, and it creeped me out. Dan Bell himself is appreciative of the period architecture and kitsch aesthetic, and he doesn’t film in a way that attempts to create elements of horror where none exist, but there’s still something upsetting about these places.

This video series is all very Rust Belt; and, based on the specific locations, I would assume that this slowly creeping neglect is connected to both rural depopulation and the institutionalized economic marginalization of Black communities. That’s upsetting enough in and of itself, of course.

But there’s also a more universal memento mori quality to these videos that inspires a dread of cultural senescence.

I feel like someone should make a video series along the same lines about abandoned websites, because they give off the same sort of energy. It’s not nostalgia, because the affect is distinctly negative, but it’s similar. I think what makes the urban exploration of abandoned malls unpleasant is that they’re “abandoned” instead of “closed,” meaning that the lights are still on and the water is still running. If they were completely shut down and gradually being overtaken by nature, they would be beautiful, but there are still people inside these almost-dead buildings, and that’s disturbing. In the same way, online spaces like Blogspot/Blogger feel weird because there are still a few people using them, and websites for children’s movies from the 2000s are a little eerie because someone is still paying to host them. You want to feel nostalgia when you look at the past; but then, when you realize that it’s not safely in the past, it’s uncomfortable and uncanny.

Also, can I be real for a second? Tumblr is starting to take on an “abandoned mall” feeling, and I don’t like it.

The Three False Equivalencies of Anti-Fandom

(1) The False Equivalency of Representation

Even if a fanfic has hundreds of thousands of views and thousands of kudos, it is never going to achieve the same level of cultural impact as big-budget mainstream media. No matter how much wholesome fic you write about Finn, it is not going to be the same as John Boyega’s face on every movie screen everywhere in the world.

(2) The False Equivalency of “They’re Just Fictional Characters”

Because “positive representation” isn’t really a valid concern with fanwork (although, in a collective sense, it absolutely can be, but that’s a different conversation), it doesn’t matter whether your fic or art is about Naruto kissing Sakura or Naruto kissing Sasuke. In fact, those three names are probably nothing more than nonsense words to 99.999% of people on this earth. It also doesn’t matter if you, as some rando on the internet, get off (for whatever reason) on the idea of Sasuke forcing himself on Naruto, Sakura, or both at the same time. They’re just fictional characters, and it does not matter to the broader culture. What does matter is if systematic structures of inequality and discrimination are uncritically reproduced in the fictional texts embraced by fandom without commentary. It’s therefore a false equivalency to put “I don’t like this m/m ship” on the same level of critique as “I don’t like how the source text marginalizes female characters.”

(3) The False Equivalency of GO OUTSIDE

Saying “I don’t like a particular m/m ship” is not only fine, it’s par for the course in fandom. Saying “I don’t like how the source text marginalizes female characters” is also fine, and we could probably use more of that sort of thing in fandom, to be honest. Someone writing about the details of their disappointment regarding a work of fiction is also fine. It’s okay to not like things! What is not okay is sending death and rape threats, accusing people of pedophilia, finding someone’s personal information and threatening to contact their family or employer, and doing things like creating a [username]gokillyourself account on AO3 in order to leave comments containing concrete instructions on how to commit suicide. It is a very clear false equivalency to suggest that expressing a negative opinion about a fictional character is “just as bad” as harassing an actual human being.

American Gothic Posthuman Romance

I’ve been reading an epic ongoing Five Nights at Freddy’s fanfic series, Everything Is All Right. I know almost nothing about the Five Nights at Freddy’s games, but the fic’s author, R. Lee Smith, is a prolific and extremely interesting writer who happens to share to one of my more arcane interests, interspecies romance. Smith’s writing style and subject matter resemble those of Stephen King – and I say this as a fan of Stephen King, if that needs clarification – except if all of King’s protagonists were female and also down to romance monsters.

Smith’s work came highly recommended by @corseque on Tumblr, whose taste in fiction I’ve grown to trust over the past two or three years. Corseque mentioned that this author has been writing fanfic, so I clicked on the link and started reading the first novel in the series, which is about the developing relationship between the author’s original character romancing Bonnie, a rotting animatronic rabbit without a face.

People say of writers they admire that they would read anything they wrote, up to and including a shopping list, but I think the real test of how much you like a writer is whether you’d be willing to read their erotic Five Nights at Freddy’s fanfiction. For me, regarding R. Lee Smith, I guess that answer is “yes.” I’m not sure that this is the sort of thing I could recommend to most people, but it’s quite good. Like, really good. I’m taking my sweet time reading the series, but I’m hooked.

By the way, I want to take this opportunity to comment on how amazing fanfiction is. It’s so cool that so many fantastic writers put their work up online for free, and it’s such a gift that anyone can access it at any time from anywhere. Sometimes I get frustrated with fandom, but there is not a day that goes by that I’m not grateful to every single fanfic author on this planet.

I Blame Capitalism

While it’s still fresh in my mind, I’d like to write about the department meeting. There’s a lot to unpack about what goes on in these things, and I think a lot of professors probably have similar feelings regarding the more unpleasant aspects of their own department meetings. Without trying to make any generalizations, however, I want to try to get to the heart of what I find so upsetting about my experience.

My university is an extremely neoliberal institution. What I mean by this is that everything is measured and judged according to its quantitative value. To give a concrete example, almost all classes with an enrollment of less than fifteen students are canceled, regardless of whether it’s a class that, by its very nature, should ideally have a small enrollment (such as a graduate seminar or an upper-level language class). These classes are usually canceled less than a week before they begin with no regard for the concerns or wellbeing of the students (who may need a specific course to graduate), the academic programs (who may lose majors or minors as a result of required courses not being available), or the instructors (many of whom are adjunct faculty paid by course) simply because they’re not “cost effective” in terms of numbers.

Faculty are accordingly evaluated almost entirely on how “productive” they are in terms of how many “points” they can accrue from certain activities and accomplishments listed on a spreadsheet. This results in bureaucratic inefficiency, as everyone needs to serve on a certain number of committees (to give one example), and it also results in everyone’s time and energy being spread dangerously thin across multiple competing commitments, some of which are of dubious necessity. This emphasis on “productivity” not only makes people tired and bad at their jobs, but it can also make them bitter and competitive.

Relying on “positive” discourses of “productivity” in order to make workers so exhausted that they’re unable to find the resources to free themselves from the mentality being chained to their jobs is a major part of the ideology of neoliberal capitalism, which relies on an authoritarian cult mentality to perpetuate itself. You must devote the entirety of your life to the cult, and there is no room for diversity, difference, or disagreement. People in administrative positions literally go to “retreats” to learn how to better serve the institution, and they come back with an almost religious fervor.

What I find so distressing about department meetings, then, is that there’s always a strong undercurrent of “you’re not doing enough.” This is especially upsetting to me because I feel like I work all the time, even if what I’m doing – like preparing lectures for classes, giving productive feedback on assignments, and meeting with students to talk about their career goals, for example – can’t be quantified on a spreadsheet. And don’t even get me started on how many emails I have to write over the course of any given day.

So, when I already feel stretched way too thin, it’s just about the worst thing in the world to walk into a meeting where the underlying message is “you should be doing even more.” It’s like, haven’t I already sacrificed enough of my life for this job? I’m already pushing myself way beyond a healthy work/life balance, and I’ve been doing it nonstop for years, and it’s still not good enough?

Basically, a department meeting is a highly concentrated collection of external confirmations regarding many of the most common intrusive thoughts stemming from anxiety: You’re not good enough. Your best is not good enough. You will never be good enough. Your work is without value. You don’t deserve to be here. You don’t deserve the privileges you’ve been given. You haven’t accomplished anything, and you never will. Everyone knows this, and everyone hates you. Everyone is judging you. You’re just causing trouble for other people, and they resent you.

What I mean by “external confirmation” is that this is literally what is being said in these department meetings. It’s probably best to leave that discussion for another day, though, because OH MAN it’s not fun to talk about any of this.

I really wish that more powerful and experienced people in academia were willing to talk about this sort of thing in a way that transcends useless corporate HR pablum and the hand-wringing “academia is broken now and forever” clickbait that people always seem to be sharing on social media. I wish I could do something myself, but I’m just as mired in the tenure-track swamp as anyone else. It’s like, Sure, I’ll fight neoliberal capitalism, right after I work on my article and my book chapter and respond to some emails and prepare a lecture and put together a handout and go teach two classes and sit in traffic and come home and then respond to more emails and update the course websites and maybe do some grading. Right after all that’s finished, I’ll get right on it.

Just for the record, however, I do want to say that I love my job.

My colleagues are all good people, and it’s nice to be paid a comfortable salary to read and write. I don’t particularly care the for the administrative aspects of teaching, but I have a lot of fun in class. This semester, for instance, I’m teaching an actual college course that counts for actual college credit about The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker, and it’s magical. Every day is an adventure.

I could do without the panic attacks, but anxiety is what it is, and we’re all doing the best we can.

It’s Dangerous to Go Alone

Since the start of the year I’ve been ordering a lot of zines from Etsy, and they’ve been a great source of solidarity for mental health issues. I’ve been suffering from severe anxiety since around 2016 or so, and I’m thinking that it might be good to talk about it.

It’s hard, though. So maybe I can discuss it bit by bit?

Okay, here goes.

My department has a meeting every month during the school year. These meetings are generally terrible for multiple reasons, and I hate them. During the fall semester, when I was in a truly dark place, I stopped attending altogether (meaning, in concrete terms, that I skipped the meetings for October, November, and December). It’s not strictly necessary for me to go to these meetings, but it’s expected that I be there as one of the tenure-line faculty members. It reflects poorly on me if I don’t go, and the rest of the faculty notices.

Our spring semester doesn’t start until the last week of January, so our first department meeting of the year was in February. I bit the bullet and went, but it was so awful that I had to leave after an hour so that I could have a panic attack in the privacy of my own car. I’ll be honest, there was a lot of self-harm involved. It was intense.

The next meeting is this afternoon, and I am not looking forward to it. Thankfully, I have a friend who has agreed to drive me to the university, park in one of the “15 minutes only” spaces outside the building, walk me up to the department office, find a regular parking space, and then stand outside the meeting room and wait for me to come out. There will probably still be tears, but hopefully there will be significantly less self-harm this time around.

Dealing with anxiety is difficult, but I’m lucky to have friends who are willing to be there for me.