Roxanne

I write about thoughts, stories, and anything that catches my attention. Nothing too specific, just what I find interesting.

[roxanne-reader]

A Controversial Opinion: Poetry Has Changed...for the Worse.

(Forgive me, poets😣🙏)

I’ve been reading a lot of poems in poetry communities on Tumblr, and there’s something that comes up a lot.

Most of the modern poems I read are easy to understand, immediate, and almost always centered on the self and one’s own feelings. They’re texts that are understood instantly, that require no pause or effort, that are simply felt.

There’s nothing wrong with writing from what one feels; in fact, it’s the most natural thing. But when it stops there, poetry starts to become predictable.

We live in an age where everything is just a click away: fast, clear, immediate. And that has also changed the way we read. I feel like we’re getting used to poetry that’s consumed quickly, just like everything else.

It feels as though we no longer want to demand anything of the reader.

And when something more symbolic or complex appears, it’s often dismissed as incoherent. Sometimes it just demands something we’re no longer used to giving: time.

I miss those poems that make you stop and think, reread, hesitate a little. The ones that don’t give you everything on a silver platter, the ones that go beyond the obvious.

Maybe it’s not that depth has disappeared, but that we’re increasingly less willing to dwell on it.

I believe that poetry can also be a space to lose yourself a little, to think more than we’re used to.

Maybe the problem isn't that those poems are difficult, but that we're getting too used to the easy stuff.

Sometimes I'm surprised by how some ancient fables (like Aesop's), despite being aimed at children, manage to achieve a depth that I find lacking in some contemporary poetry.

[roxanne-reader]

Are humans selfish by nature?

There’s an idea, associated with philosophers like Arthur Schopenhauer, that brings up a pretty uncomfortable question: even our most “good” actions might actually have a selfish root.

For example, if you give money to a homeless person, you might think you’re doing it out of pure kindness. But from this perspective, it could also be understood as something you do to feel good about yourself, ease guilt, or improve your self-image.

That doesn’t mean the action doesn’t help the other person, but rather that the motivation might not be as pure as we usually believe.

And this is where the idea gets interesting: does truly selfless kindness exist, or are there only actions that end up benefiting us in some way, even if it’s just emotionally?

"True empathy" is egocentric.

There’s also an interesting nuance in the idea of “real empathy.”

We often defend the idea of “real empathy” as something that escapes this logic, a genuine connection with others. But even that starts to look questionable when you look closely.

Empathy might not be as selfless as we like to think. It can be read as something fundamentally egocentric:

We often feel empathy because we can relate to what is happening to someone else. In other words, we don’t always connect with the other person as someone completely separate from us, but rather through thoughts like “this happened to me too,” or “I felt that too,” or “this could happen to me.” We don’t really feel others as they are, we feel a version of them filtered through ourselves, we understand others because we can imagine ourselves in their place, or because we’ve felt something similar before.

So even in our most “human” reactions, there’s a trace of self-reference.

That doesn’t make empathy fake, but it does make it less pure.

Maybe the question isn’t whether we are selfish or not, but to what extent selfishness is mixed into almost everything we do.

And whether “pure goodness” actually exists or if it’s just an idea we need to believe in.

[roxanne-reader]

Why do people often associate evil with stupidity?

It’s interesting, when you look at stories, the “evil” character is rarely shown as truly clever. More often, they come across as impulsive, careless, or as someone who ends up sabotaging themselves through their own choices.

This isn’t new either. In ancient myths, religious stories, and moral tales from centuries ago, you see the same pattern: people who do harmful or unethical things tend to lose in the end. Not always because they’re directly punished, but because their actions seem to naturally lead to their downfall.

Part of this comes from how we understand morality. Across different cultures, whether through ideas like karma, divine justice, or simple social expectations, there’s a shared sense that harming others isn’t just wrong, but also a poor decision that eventually backfires.

We hear a similar message from a young age: harming others isn’t only “wrong,” it’s also “stupid.” As if making a moral mistake automatically reflects a lack of intelligence.

Popular culture reinforces this idea constantly. In films, stories, and folklore, the cruel or selfish character doesn’t just get defeated, they’re often shown as clearly outplayed or undone by their own mistakes. As if the story needs to prove that unethical behavior isn’t just wrong, but also short-sighted.

Maybe it’s not really a form of “brainwashing,” but more of an old educational tool: making harmful behavior seem not only unacceptable, but also unappealing or foolish.

Still, reality is more complicated. It’s not always like that. There are intelligent people who engage in harmful actions, and sometimes they’re precisely the ones with the most power or influence over others.

[roxanne-reader]

When Dark Humor Crosses the Line

Not everything that makes people laugh falls into the same category, and not everything labeled “dark humor” actually is. Sometimes that label is used to justify things that go beyond a joke.

The problem begins when “humor” loses its context, intention, or reflection, and simply becomes mockery of specific people.

For example, there’s an argentine youtuber known for “dark humor” whose content is quite popular. In one of his videos, he uses racist slurs against a Black person on the street. In that same video, he also mocks a woman for having a visibly swollen face, without considering that this could be related to serious medical issues, including diseases like cancer. However, in the Hispanic community, he is socially accepted because people say it’s humor.

And to me, that kind of content is not “provocative humor.” It’s hateful, because there’s no reflection, no criticism, and no clear purpose beyond ridiculing real people.

That’s when I ask myself: can that really be called dark humor, or is it simply cruelty normalized under a label?

Because dark humor isn’t about saying hateful things without a filter. It involves intention, context, and a structure behind the joke.

When that doesn’t exist, it ceases to be humor.

[roxanne-reader]

Stories You Thought You Knew… But Can’t Remember How They Ended

There are stories we all feel like we know by heart. We’ve heard them so many times growing up… but if you really think about it, their endings are kind of blurry. Somewhere along the way, they were softened, changed, or just… forgotten.

Take Aesop’s fable of the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Most people remember it as a simple story about deception. But in the original version, the farmer actually mistakes the wolf for one of his sheep and kills it.

Or The Little Mermaid by Hans Christian Andersen. A lot of people assume it has a happy ending, probably because of modern adaptations. But in the original tale, she doesn’t end up with the prince… she turns into sea foam.

Something similar happens with The Pied Piper of Hamelin. Everyone remembers the rats, sure, but not everyone remembers what happens after. When the town refuses to pay him, he takes the children away… and they’re never seen again.

And then there’s Little Red Riding Hood. Nowadays, there’s almost always a hunter who shows up just in time to save her. But in older versions, that rescue never comes. The story just… ends, and not in a comforting way.

What’s really interesting, though, is what all of this says about the time these stories came from.

Back then, death wasn’t treated as something especially shocking or dramatic, it was just part of life. These stories were born in times of war, poverty, and high mortality, where loss was something people were used to. So they didn’t feel the need to “soften” it the way we do now.

They also had a much more direct purpose than we tend to think today. They weren’t just meant to entertain, they were warnings. They taught children early on that the world could be dangerous, that trust had consequences, and that mistakes could cost you a lot. Instead of protecting children from harsh realities, they were preparing them for them.

That might even explain why people back then could seem colder or less emotionally expressive. It’s not necessarily that they didn’t feel, it’s that they grew up in a world where dreaming too much or being naïve could actually be risky.

Over time, these stories were adapted, softened, and reshaped, especially when they started being told mainly to children.

And little by little, we forgot what they were really like.

Maybe the stories didn’t really change that much…

maybe we just chose to keep the versions that are easier to live with.

[roxanne-reader]

An Unpopular Opinion: Boredom Isn’t in the Books, It’s in the Reader

I’m going to say something that probably won’t go over well: often, when we say a book is “boring,” we’re not talking about the book, we’re talking about ourselves.

Not all texts are designed to captivate in the same way. And not all readers have the same patience, attention span, or willingness to immerse themselves in a work.

The same book can be fascinating to one person and tedious to another. Not because the book changes, but because the way we read changes.

The problem is that we’ve started treating boredom as a flaw in the text, when often it’s simply a lack of connection, context, or willingness to engage with it.

In fact, it’s becoming increasingly common for many people to find books boring that were once enjoyed by most. This isn’t necessarily because those books have gotten worse, but because many people today find it harder to concentrate, sustain their attention, or read without constant stimulation.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t bad books. But it does mean that not everything that’s “boring” is objectively bad.

Some books aren’t meant to be consumed quickly.

And perhaps the real problem isn’t the work itself… but the impatience with which we read it.

[roxanne-reader]

Are all languages “tonal”?

When we think of tonal languages, we tend to think of examples like Mandarin Chinese, Cantonese, Vietnamese, or Thai, among many others, where tone completely changes the meaning of a word.

But this got me wondering:

What role does sound really play in languages that aren’t tonal?

In Spanish, for example, if you don’t stress a word correctly or don’t use the right intonation, it sounds strange. Sometimes it’s even hard to understand you, or it seems like you’re saying something else. It doesn’t change the meaning as directly as in a tonal language, but it does greatly affect how what you say is interpreted.

So, what’s the difference?

In tonal languages, tone is part of the word. In Spanish and many other languages, tone doesn’t change the word itself, but it does influence how it sounds, how it’s understood, and even the intention behind it.

Maybe not all languages are tonal in the same sense, but they all depend on more than just written words: they depend on how they sound.

And maybe the difference isn’t “having tone or not having it,” but rather how much a language relies on sound to convey meaning.

[roxanne-reader]

There is no one right way to live life (and we’ve been fooling ourselves for centuries)

For centuries, various philosophies have tried to tell us how to live correctly. And the funny thing is that many of them aren’t presented as options, but as definitive answers, they thought they had found the right path.

In ancient Greece, for example, Stoicism argued that the right way to live is to accept what we cannot control and remain calm above all else. For the Stoics, inner peace comes from self-control and reason.

In contrast, Epicureanism proposed something different: living in pursuit of pleasure, but not excessive pleasure, rather a tranquil one, free from pain or disturbance. For them, a simple and serene life was the key to happiness.

Two different paths… and both convinced they had the answer.

Something similar happened in China. Confucianism emphasized morality, duty, and human relationships, while Taoism advocated going with the flow of life and not forcing things. Different approaches, but the same underlying question.

So… which one is right?

None.

They all are, in a way.

There is no single correct way to live, but rather multiple ways that depend on how each person understands the world, suffering, desire, or happiness.

It’s not about finding the right way, but about finding the one that lets you live happily.

[roxanne-reader]

Was it really a woman who invented the Pythagorean theorem?

(not joking) (A sassy theory)

I know that after reading the title, you must think I’m delusional, that I’m being sassy, or that I’m just seeking attention, but I have five good reasons to believe that the Pythagorean theorem was invented by a woman. Let me tell you what they are:

Reason #1: The Pythagorean School.

Pythagoras was a revolutionary for his time and allowed both men and women to study and teach at his school. At the Pythagorean school, women could participate because his philosophy focused on the soul and harmony, not on gender. Furthermore, the idea of the transmigration of the soul meant that knowledge did not depend on the body, which likely allowed for their inclusion. We know that women participated because of the writings of Iamblichus (3rd–4th century AD) and Porphyry (3rd century AD) who write that there were female philosophers in the Pythagorean community.

Reason #2: Pythagoras did not invent the Pythagorean theorem.

If you’ve studied the Pythagorean theorem, you’ll know that the most popular belief is that it was the Pythagorean school that developed the Pythagorean theorem, not Pythagoras alone, but it’s actually unknown whether the entire school came together to develop the Pythagorean theorem, whether it was a small group of Pythagoras’ disciples, or a single disciple...👀🔍

Reason No. 3: Theano: The Mysterious Woman.

It is unclear whether Theano was Pythagoras’s daughter, wife, or merely a disciple, but we know she was connected to him. She was a mathematician and philosopher, and it is said that she studied at the Pythagorean school; Porphyry and Iamblichus also mention her in their writings, iamblichus wrote that she ran the school after Pythagoras' death, besides Teano wrote a treatise on the golden ratio (related to the geometry of the theorem).

Reason No. 4: There is very little information about Pythagoras.

Unlike Plato or Aristotle, Pythagoras never wrote a book, and we know about him only through what others have written. We don’t even know for certain what he died of or why, as there are many wild theories about him. If we knew more about him, we could confirm who actually wrote the Pythagorean theorem, but since that’s not the case, we can only speculate.

Reason #5 (the best of all): Why did Pythagoras take all the credit?

Since it is believed that several male disciples or at least one male disciple developed the Pythagorean theorem, why did Pythagoras “claim” the theorem as his own? Although he didn’t name the Pythagorean theorem, he probably never revealed who had actually developed it because if he had, it would not have been known as the Pythagorean theorem. You’re probably wondering where I’m going with all this, and it boils down to two questions: Is it possible that Pythagoras’s name was used as a shield of legitimacy, under the premise that a discovery of such magnitude would not have been accepted by the society of the time if it were revealed that its author was a woman.?Wasn’t the silence surrounding female authorship not an act of appropriation, but rather a survival tactic to ensure the theorem was taken seriously in a world that didn’t allow women to be the owners of scientific truth?

Of course, this is just a theory; there isn’t enough evidence to confirm it, but there isn’t enough evidence to disprove it either. Also keep in mind that this theory was written by me, a 17 year old girl, so don’t take it too seriously either, because it lacks solid proof and I came up with it while reading a study about Pythagoras.

Honestly, I’ve been writing my theory for three hours straight, I’m exhausted, and I’d really appreciate it if you’d give it a like. Thanks for reading☺️

[roxanne-reader]

Translation kills poetry

Have you ever read a poem in its original language and felt exactly what the author intended to convey, but then read it translated into another language and no longer felt the same way?

Sometimes I feel that poetry doesn’t fully survive translation.

The words move from one language to another, but something is left behind, as if the poem leaves part of itself along the way.

I recently read a poem in spanish that felt deeply profound, almost as if it carried its own weight, as if every word was exactly where it was meant to be. But when I translated it into english, even though I understood every word, it didn’t feel the same. It had lost some of its intensity, its aura; it was no longer the same.

It’s not just spanish. There are many russian, chinese, and poems in other languages that lose part of their essence in translation. Some words exist in their original language but have no true equivalent in english, and there are certain words that carry a lot of weight and intesnsity in the original language but not in english, even if the literal meaning remains.

When translated, the meaning may stay, but the essence changes. What was once dense becomes flatter. What had power becomes more neutral. What once felt almost mythical becomes more ordinary, more explainable.

Perhaps poetry isn’t broken when translated.

But it does lose a part of its soul along the way.

[roxanne-reader]

“I face the enemy head-on and turn my back on flattery, for whoever accepts praise begins to be controlled, just as a man strokes a horse to ride it.”

-Facundo Cabral (poet and singer), this is an excerpt from his most popular song “No soy de aquí ni soy de allá” (I’m Not From Here, I’m Not From There) (recorded in 1970). He’s my favorite Argentine poet ❤️

If you’re interested but don’t know Spanish, the video has English subtitles available, in case you want to turn them on. You have to turn on the subtitles (CC). Then go to the video settings ⚙️, find the subtitles option, and select English.