A bit of history for those not acquainted with my life story, and then we can get to the meat of this post:
Archive for emo Tag
Thanks to KCG’s emo poetry thread, I have created another video.
There’s the embedded YouTube video, a link to the YouTube video on YouTube, and then a download link for a version with 4 times the resolution, you know—for people who like reading.
More info on the vid can be found at its YouTube page.
And remember kids, I don’t farm bandwidth. Please don’t replicate the above DDL link on other sites.
Apr 26Just like Yesterday
The result of the lyrics of “Rumbling Hearts,” the sentiments behind Interlude, the TextEdit on the Southwest, and a touch of annoying repetition.
It was in watching an episode of Card Captor Sakura that I realized this about myself. Sakura and company go to an ice skating rink by bus, and, as they approach, Terada-sensei announces that they’ll be there soon. They cheer, being the impatient little munchkins they are. I frown slightly as I realize that were I on that bus, I’d be disappointed.
Disappointed, eh? you might ask. It’s a skating rink. You go to have fun, not to get emo.
I’m someone who dislikes change, and this may just have to do with it. I hate getting into a vehicle like a bus or a car if I’m comfortable where I am at the time, mainly because I like being where I am and moving isn’t really my thing. But once I’m in a car… or a bus, or a train, or even an airplane for that matter, there’s this silent wish for it to never reach its destination. Until now, I’d never clearly identified this wish. I wonder if I’ll ever leave a vehicle happily again.
It’s an interesting question to me. When did I come by this wish?
Why did it stick to me?
And why did I have to notice it?
I have come to the realization that I enjoy being in transit. To be shuffled around from place to place, or rather, non-place to non-place, to never reach a goal, to never be burdened with responsibility. The reason for my dropping of every instrument I picked up was that realization that with a desire to improve came responsibility, and responsibility is up there with change as one of the things I dislike the most. It sucks the fun out of things and makes technicolor bland. And yes, improvement is a type of change—one that frightens me more than any other if only because it enthralls me unlike any atrophy.
Changing for the better thrills me; praise and compliments admittedly boost an ego that accepts them all too willingly. I’ve taken to warning people against praising me, telling them that they will make my ego through the roof. I tend to be overly modest, and people take that as fishing for compliments, but really, it’s because I’m afraid of whatever’s being praised. With skill comes responsibility, after all.
Maybe the school bus could be a symbol for growing up and taking on the weight of a real world where all my half-assing and immaturity just won’t cut it. And maybe I want to ride that school bus eternally, much like the outlaws of “Tooi Sakebi.” Unlike “Tooi Sakebi,” however, do I want to remain nameless and unknown? Quite possibly, dead anonymity would suit me better than some of the more conspicuous things I’ve done…
There are things that I love, as detailed in my essay “Summer in AIR“—Tahoe’s summer and Berkeley’s mornings, the romantic whimsicalities of artistic eternity… I guess I should add to that the lull of the car, that gentle swaying motion that gradually calls me to rest. I don’t think it’s overly suicidal or dark of me, but I imagine I’d like to die in a motor vehicle. Not in a crash nor in any other kind of road accident (or wherever the hell else you drive) but gently, in the back seat of a some transport, of disease or old age or what have you, called to rest by the gentle swaying motion. Accompanied by the humming of a motor. And a blue sky outside my window, dotted with those masshiro clouds.
But enough about death—I should like to never arrive there.
When you echo my words,
one of two things takes place.
Either you are accepting my truth, or
I am adopting your vocabulary.
No matter which it is, we are surely becoming closer.
When you mimick my habits,
It’s painfully obvious that you have accepted that truth
And just as quickly as I realize this,
My truth changes.
Please, leave me alone.
I hate change.
Allow us to remain different people.
If you don’t…
… then I’ll need to change myself to remain different.
I can’t do that. There’s no way I can.
And because I can’t…
… I may begin to remind myself of you.
And that would just be agony.
So I was reading the story of Nurse-kun yesterday afternoon, and it got me thinking. Thinking quite a bit really. I guess it caused me to enter “emo writer mode” or something stupid like that, and I decided that work on HC was best postponed a bit. Then, last night, on a whim, I rewatched episodes 10-12 of Kannazuki no Miko. Damn that show is good. Anyway, before the opening of episode 11 starts, the purple sun rises and Himeko narrates something about it being the world’s final day. I work well on association, so I took that and went with it.
And yes, this is ultra-short (like, less than a page), but I figured making it longer could only compromise whatever integrity it holds. Enjoy.