"Lost At Sea"- a coming to SOA

The action starts when I timidly wandered into an anime viewing, one lonely weekday in October. I was lucky enough to just blend in, and no one introduced themselves, or made me stand out in any way for which I was grateful. After that I began attending regularly, and plotting my ascent to power and eventual coup de tat... and if that's all you were looking for, then there you go.

But that's not where it all began.

When I was in middle school I caught the otaku fever. I wasn't introduced to anime as a kid (though I was known to glue myself to the TV for Sailor Moon or early Pokémon episodes near religiously back before I knew what I was watching). I didn't grow up with cool older siblings who read manga or watched anime-- my family to this day is still in the dark about these things.

Suffice to say, I was in unfamiliar territory.

Armed with only my tenacity, I ventured on. At about thirteen, I discovered the Toonami and AdultSwim programs (which used to feature smatterings of Anime in their lineups). I was hooked. Behind my mom's back; I used to sneak Toonami when she was off working and I was "doing homework", or AdultSwim on weeknights, plugging headphones into my TV and wedging a towel under the door to hide evidence of the light or sound of my defiance. I wasn't allowed up past 12, you see.

I went to a very open and supportive high school. Any one student was just as likely to be into sports as they were to watch anime- and everyone knew and no one cared; there was no stigma attached to interest. Looking back, it was a bit of a utopia.

When I came to Merced, I was in for a total culture shock. I went to orientation, like everyone else, but not being used to the sweltering 100+ weather and the oppressive over-cheeriness of the group leaders, I begged mom to skip out early. Cooling down in the hotel room, I began to develop a serious case of cold feet; but it was too late for second guesses and Merced was my school of choice with, or without, friends with shared interests.

When I began attending in the fall of '08, I had no idea what the SOABrigade was- if I was even aware of its existence. I gravitated to the only person I knew, my boyfriend, and his friends. They were, without saying too much, Asian xenophobes who believed sub-consciously in an abrasive normative whiteness.

Needless to say they were hostile to what they again and again labeled in chiding tones as my "geekiness", or "weirdness". Things I used to pride myself on... were becoming terms of derision. Not even my boyfriend really understood those 'strange cartoons' I was into- though he tried to insulate me from their teasing, when he could.

That was my freshman year. Trying to fit in and fixing a deformity I didn't even know I had. I started going to the gym a lot and wearing makeup to fit in with my boyfriend's crowd, and tried to forget the community I once loved. That was a sad time for me, since anime had been a major part of my life and the fandom comprised the people I identified with.

My sophomore year, Jake went away to dc. Of course the teasing didn't stop, and of course I still hadn't found anything to fill the hole left by anime and the artistic community. I needed something, anything to temper the ennui of life in Merced, with "friends" I couldn't stand. And at about breaking point, I saw a poster reading 'anime club'.

And that was that.

Summoning my courage, I went. I ditched my gossipy, backstabbing frenemies and took a chance on SOABrigade.

And between you all and I, I'm happy I did.

I go to sleep

Coming home was a double-edged sword. The details are stupid, mundane, and commonplace. And, as I have promised myself to be rid of such things, I watch what I say. I don't have much time here left- and Sunday I return to the life I've left behind, but I will enjoy this last meal of sushi and I will leave my hometown by the sea, vowing to return.

Things Fall Together

When in the hell was it that I last looked back? I do try so hard not to.

Six years ago to the day, a young girl was falling in love at a Sadie Hawkins dance; and six years ago to the morning after her heart was breaking. But she grew up and realized that nothing can last forever. That wide-eyed girl grew up in a chaotic nest with poisonous barbs instead of feathers, and when her wings were strong, leaped from the stifling home into the open blue.

I'm not done with this world yet- and I'll fight if I must to make my dreams come true. That's all this boils down to.

I've lost so much, given up so many, and been heartbroken more than once but I will not alter my course until my ambitions are fulfilled.

"Maybe one day, when we are old and our pride means nothing, I will retire with you in that place"...maybe I will. Maybe she was right.

dev·as·tat·ed

The world is not beautiful. The man across the street is drunk, loud, and slurring his yells- punctuating this are the sharp and sensible words of a female officer. His child--a toddler at best-- is howling its sobs ('mommy' is barely discernible among the cries) although the main and most penetrating of communications is its pain. No matter the words, it's the pain that's communicated most clearly. Hands down. God to think my heart could break, this scene leaves me in ribbons. "Do you want to go to jail, sir?"..."whaddya mean?!"

Two hours ago loud mariachi music blared across the street, and men poured in and out of a private residence near mine. Motorcycles peeled in and out of the area with abandon and engines flared- fanning heated tempers. Meanwhile I typed away at a keyboard hoping it would stop, finding myself an unwilling spectator of what would inevitably be a gruesome night for all.

The man 'responsible' for this blog's contents seemed to take a kind of jovial pride in his antics-- that is from what I could hear. His wife tried to stop all of this, hissing common sense in a foreign tongue- yelling reason and pleading truth. His buddies laughed-- loudly.

In the not-so-far off distance, a child no older than five, his child, began to cry.

What, I wonder will he learn from all of this? Even to me this scene is heartbreaking and incomprehensible.

This must have irritated someone, because following this prolonged display, a sleek black car pulled up to the end of my block-- two dark-clad figures exiting noiselessly. Merced's finest. What a joke. They-- who are hired to protect and serve being made to clean up after the drunk and disorderly man-child coward across the street. Lovely.

I hear a scuffle and a neighbor woman cursing in Spanish at the drunkard, and then addressing the female officer directly--"Do you see what I havva deal wit?"...she responds in what I can only imagine is her practiced, and uniform calm--"There is absolutely nothing I can do about that"-- the bottom line. End of story. Or it would be.

Arguments begin between the drunkard and the neighbor, loud and unintelligible, only half in English, and mostly slurred. Abruptly it ends. Cuffs click, and a car door snaps shut. The road quiets. These are suburban problems. Drunk in public and unruly neighbors.

By now the child has been quieted.