Confessions of An Animѐ Addict

If I had ever had an addiction in life, I would have to say that it is animѐ. I was an addict, in every literal translation of the word.

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It all began with the GMA animѐ fever. You remember Ghost Fighter and Flame of Recca? Even though I was a Sailormoon fan, they were the ones who got me addicted.

 

In a time when pirated DVD’s and uTorrent downloads weren’t yet popular, I managed to record every single opening and closing animѐ song of both GMA and ABS-CBN (although ABS doesn’t finish any animѐ song) using just a cassette recorder. That’s right. It wasn’t a very techie world back then.

 

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I not only had recordings of animѐ songs, I also had “photographs” (printed pictures of animѐ characters as well as the all too famous “texts”) and of course, posters that I get to hang on the walls of my bedroom. Soon enough my bedroom were full of posters – which were protected with plastic covers (the ones used for books) – that there was no space for any additional ones.

 

I also collected Questor magazines, although each costs a hefty 200Php and I had begun to self-study Nihonggo in the hope of understanding the animѐ songs that I had committed to memory.

 

I was an addict indeed. Obsessed was the word my mother and siblings used.

 

el hazardAnd at that time my animѐ sources were just confined to GMA and ABS. I have yet to discover AXN, which aired animѐ in pure Nihonggo without subtitles and Animax, which aired animѐ dubbed in English. Imagine how my animѐ world expanded when I discovered these channels. I remember back then that I would tirelessly watch AXN animѐ shows even when I can barely understood a word of what I’m watching. Somehow, I don’t know how, but I did manage to get the gist of the story and for me, coupled with the aesthetically pleasing nature of the characters, it was enough.

 

All of these however were drawn to a sudden demise when I entered high school. Studying in a “bulod” school wherein we didn’t had any access to a television forced me into reclusion from my fave animѐ. I was in tears. I could almost see myself giving up that school in exchange for another school wherein I would still have access to decent TV. But such is life, and eventually I conceded to fate and to years of animѐ seclusion.

 

I was not alone, however. I had a number of classmates who were animѐ addicts themselves and in whom I found solace during those lonely years. But no animѐ merchandises can ever compensate for the real animѐ one gets to watch on TV. Soon my addiction became a thing of the past.

 

Maybe I was finally growing up and my animѐ addiction was just a phase in my childhood years. Maybe the lack of a solid and strong catalyst finally put my animѐ cravings to a rest.

 

What I do know, however, is that even when I eventually got exposed to a couple of animѐ orgs in college, and to more animѐ in cable TV, and even to the proliferating pirated animѐ DVDs, the addiction never quite returned.

 

Yes, I have downloaded animѐ songs from uTorrent. Yes, I will buy animѐ DVDs – pirated or not. Yes, I still keep my animѐ “photo” albums. Yes, I still have animѐ songs memorized by heart. But all these, to me, are just mere shadows – reminders of an addiction and perhaps, a fantasy world, I had in the past.

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So Close yet Still So Far

What am I doing? I am suppose to be editing my thesis manuscript yet here I am obsessing over my multiply page – writing blogs. I am this close to graduation. Just one manuscript to pass. One more requirement and I’ll finally have that diploma to hang on our walls. I will finally have that piece of paper to prove my having earned a degree from the nation’s state university. The piece of paper that would pacify my parents. That would reward my father’s hard work.

But how come it is so hard to obtain that piece of document? How come I seem to have lost all zeal to traverse that tiny mile? At times I find myself having the adrenaline rush to finish the race. At times, I find myself too lazy to even manage a step.

Yet the clock is ticking. I should hurry up lest the elusive piece of document finally eludes my hands forever.

But what does that document prove really? Will that be the measure of my learning?

I think not.

Pisay In Retrospect

There are times when I regretted entering a special science high school. These moments come when I think about the course that I took up in college – a course farthest from my mind, from my dreams when I was a kid. The regrets come when I am faced with the enormous pressure of finding a job somewhat related to my field and when I end up realizing that my dream job after all is not really in the field of science. And much to my dismay, after years of pursuing science, I still see my skill as more in the line of something else. Yes, regrets do come.

But when I look back at all the fun experiences – experiences I would never encounter if I studied in a normal high school, the regrets fade away into oblivion. When I think about the people I met – people who would no doubt be my friends for life even after years of zero communication (the bond was just that strong that we have learned to accept one another’s shortcomings), I regret even regretting.

I guess it’s really the friendships forged in Pisay that is worth all these madness of “unrequited” dreams – dreams of being a journalist, a corporate person, dreams that are still attainable albeit harder due to my off-tangent degree . I guess we were all just kids back then – kids pretending to be adults, independent enough, to carry on living on our own in a totally alien environment. We stuck with what we have, adapted to what was thrown to us and all the results were rock solid friendships – friendships no one would trade for anything – not even unrequited dreams.

When I think about it I realize that my high school friends are people who don’t really know everything that are happening in my life right now. They are not people that I am close to in a daily basis sort of way. Yet I have this sense of security that once I see them in a mall or in some off chance place, the gap years since graduation would fade away and we would chat endlessly filling in the voids. There is just some sort of unexplainable connection. Of course it’s not the same for everyone, but it is true for the majority.

The vastness and intricacies of the Pisay friendship escapes me, really. It is something that is there, you know it, yet you cannot explain it.

Ah, what’s the use? I should be typing/writing something else at this time yet here I am reminiscing. It’s been five years since I left Pisay’s portals, yet the memories – good and bad – remain vivid in my mind, perhaps, forever or maybe another five years more.

Home Again

I have never imagined that after 8 years of being away from home I’ll be integrating myself again. It was a hard decision to make – coming home after being away from so long, turning my back on glorious job oppurtunities and teeming social life. But the choice was between family and that (jobs and a social life). A family that would soon get separated in not more than five years. So I guess the choice was pretty much made up for me. I chose family.

And for the past weeks I have integrated myself back in. Moved all my stuff, and squeezed myself in. They didn’t expected my return too judging from the fact that I had to find some space for myself. There was absolutely not much space for me and my stuff. But I managed.

And whence I thought it was hard, it was actually easy. Being away from my social life was not as bad as I imagined it to be. I am still jobless but I haven’t really started seriously hunting so I cannot judge anything about that.

The pressures of home are surprisingly manageable also. Afterall if I chose to run off to Manila and hide from all this, I would be a real coward.

So I guess I am fine. Yeah what a word. Domestic living has its own colorful adventures.

My Bravest Moment – So Far

I remember all the slumbooks I used to answer when I was in elementary – they all asked for your most embarrassing moment. I believe another category should be added – your bravest moment. But this would be I know quite vague – so many moment call for bravery and one can get lost and confused as to which tale or event would be the bravest.

But I must say that I found myself very, very brave when I went to Binondo – the Philippines’ Chinatown, last Saturday. I went there alone and without any idea where I was going. Oh I had a general picture of what Binondo was like based on internet sites and the instructions of friends. I knew I had to go to Ongpin St. to find the things I needed. But I had no actual experience of what the place would be like.

My planner entry for that day was Binondo adventure. It was an adventure because I was going there exploring. And explore was what I did.

From LRT2 Recto Station I began walking to the general direction I knew would take me to the streets of Binondo. I did not bother riding any jeepneys or other public transport because I had been informed that I place I’d like to go to was near. So I just walked my way around – a walk that had to be masked. I had to pretend I knew where I was going (which was true) and I knew how to get there (which was only half true). I had to project an aura of confidence and urgency – to deflect any malicious individuals.

Oh I was not exempt from maliciousness. Every once in a while I would pass some guy who would have some snide comment about me. But I paid no heed to them and continued on walking amidst the light drizzle. I finally saw the street I was supposed to turn left to and I turned – only to get lost. I wasn’t really lost I reasoned to myself – I knew the general direction – where south and north was, where the Recto station which I cam from was. I had a general idea of my location. But I cannot find Ongpin St. and I keep turning up in streets which I knew where not where I was suppose to go.

But still bravely, I walked on. Never daring to stop for directions or show any signs of being lost. I just walked and followed my instincts. And lo and behold I found myself in Ongpin St. and a few more blocks I found myself right at the smack of Binondo – in front of the famous Binondo Church.

I walked towards the church – a haven where I could sit down and collect my thoughts. Along the way I had passed several shops which supposedly contained what I needed but unfortunately didn’t. I used to sanctuary of the church to collect my thoughts, calm my emotions, and let my adrenalin levels stabilize.

After some time, off I went again for further exploring. I pursued street corners, walking the whole length of Ongpin in pursuit of what I needed. I even tried entering side streets and I even managed to get lost in them – ending up in the same streets I had already passed and thought of as way behind me. Eventually I found myself going in circles around the many streets – they were after all interconnected. But this has served to give me a more concrete idea of where I was.

Eventually I found myself back at CM Recto St. – along the sidewalks that would lead me to the Recto Station. I recognized this as the end of my adventure – a signal that I had already combed the streets and seen as much as I could. And though I had wanted to go back and make sure, I felt a resignation that for now my adventure is over. Adrenalin could only flow in your body for a limited time. I had to stop at two quiet shops – a cozy bakery and a busy mami house just to collect my thoughts and get some quiet atmosphere.

I relented to my body and mind’s whim. I was not infinitely brave. If I tried a second time that day to enter the crisscross of streets in Binondo I knew my courage would falter me. So I mustered up the last bits of courage I had as I made my way to the Recto Station. I had to walk a couple of blocks still – blocks filled with both kind and malicious people. I know I still drew stares and snide remarks – all of which I noticed but ignored. I guess the sight of a strange lovely young lady walking the streets of Recto and Binondo was an unfamiliar one. I guess they expect me to at least be with someone.

But I managed alone – and I must admit quite excellently. I didn’t exactly found what I was looking for – maybe I was supposed to look for it in Quiapo. But I did have quite an adventure, a good grip of Binondo, and a tale to tell.

a blessing 10 months in the making

finally i have my very own brand new laptop. though i admit it takes
getting used to because of the very small keypad and screen but somehow
im able to manage. haha. like this was really meant for me.

i remember some 10 months ago during one of the execom meetings at
shakeys i was sharing how bad i felt because it seemed that the
promised laptop is so slow in coming..i mean i know God intends to
bless me and all pero bakit ang tagal sabi ko?? little did i know.

i visualized my faith. i verbalized it and when oppurtunity knocked i
actualized. i started working for the upcym alumni association known as
upcym acts and since they have an honorarium i took courage (proded
also by some people) and asked them for an advance in the form of a
laptop…and here it is..an asus 701..convenient..cute..yes not high
end but pwedeng pwede na..

grabe super thank you thank you Lord and all the people you used to
give me this..bless them!

it’s late and i ramble yet again

the rain is pouring and i’m trapped. trapped in a cafe with vampire players and report makers. long into the night they play their computer games – absorbed in the reality fantasy they are living. how they get the money to pay for such will always remain a mystery for me.

anyways its my field trip tomorrow. i mean later. i’m scared to sleep. scared i’ll not wake up on time and i’ll be late. i can’t miss that trip. i paid so much for it. enjoy? i hope so. from the looks of the preparations it seems were in there to sweat it out.

lately, i have known what it means to be beautiful again. to be drawn to HIM again. and to feel HIS warmth and presence. i feel beautiful. in spite of all the madness the end of a semester brings. i can say with confidence in the face of all the pressures pressing me on every side: bring it on! i have HIM with me.

soccer so & so

to play soccer is a hobby i really want to pursue..yet there are drawbacks. i know. and their painful.

whatever got me to think that i would actually volunteer, much less play soccer, is beyond my imagination. i was busily studying the time away last night when a text message came across asking me to be part of the bio soccer team for this morning’s games. little did i know that my consent to such an invitation would bring bruises to my otherwise flawless leg. (yep! the leg that i have so hard to preserve from whence i was a kid).

in any case we won. i enjoyed the game. to have this bruises is just part of the price i know i have to pay if ever i really want to pursue this sport. it’s exhilirating. very much so. but the pain is real. the risks are real.

but ask me now if i still want to play?

of course!

i’m looking forward to the next round…

btw, we won! we are the champions! go team!

she

the first time she entered the room i knew it was her. there was that unmistakable smile in her face that eventhough i have only seen photos of her i knew i wasn’t mistaken. it was she.

there was the air of like i have known her for years. it was as if we were introduced a long time ago. i was tempted to ask her if she was “……” but i caught myself. i can’t blew my cover and let her know i knew her because of him.

she was friendly. funny. i can tell we clicked from the start. her sense of humor was refreshing. her friendliness exciting.

i can’t believe she hurt him. maybe she had her valid reasons. and maybe she didn’t really intend what she did.

there are two sides to every coin. just as there are two sides to this story.

and i intend to know both side.

the coin is standing up. both sides are equal.

i intend to enjoy her friendship. as well as his.

today(can’t think of a better title)

my head is actually throbbing..i’ve been awake since 4:30am..have endured the grueling commute from my place in LP to my school in QC..i have been subjected to the rigors of the tiresome enrollment..and i’m not sure i could endure more..yet i must..i must..

i still have some hang-ups from the logbook post of our dear org’s shakespeare..face it gal..you can never write as fluidly as him..you have your own individual style..

i really should rest..yet i can’t fathom why i am still in this cyber cafe..typing incessant words to this machine..maybe because i have a few hours to spare..maybe because i want to have a post at least per month and keep this alive..maybe because i simply want to rant..

today i have faced the thing i loved and have come close to losing..i have discovered it formed the core of my life in my school..it was part of me..something i can never part with..no matter how i tried..i miss them..yet i don’t want to see them..why?i dunno..i have no idea..maybe because of the crisis i face now..and because i don’t want to admit it to them..a classic tale of pride..yes..i am a prideful person..a prideful person indeed.

i love my org. yet ‘m afraid that that same love would bring me to ruins. the summer vacation has been more of a retreat for me. a retreat from the busyness of my college life. a time when i came to realize how stupid and erroneous my ways have been. i have indeed been caught up with the sudden freedom. making moves that i didn’t think about. making moves that i didn’t consider the consequences. but i vowed to be a better person. a better man. or woman.

i must put to good use my 4yrs of training in high school. i must reform. yet i’m scared that in the process of reformation i would discover that my org has made me a worse person. i don’t deny the things i’ve learned from it. yet i still can’t fathom how much of my delinquet ways was actually because of it.

i find myself more and more unable to defend my acts to my family..much more to myself. i’m really scared now. afraid to lose the things i most love.

its past nine. past my previous dorm’s curfew. i must leave. i can’t fully guarantee my companion and i’s safety.

i hope this sheds light to my actions this day.