I am kind of recollecting what’s left of me from a weekend of romance, heroics, and reminescense. Twenty-six episodes of Nadesico viewed between Friday night and tonight, inspired by Harold and Kumar‘s demand for satisfaction, would do just that. It wasn’t the tour-de-force I expected, but it was a test of my conviction as someone who spends much of his waking hours thinking and watching and talking about anime.
Somehow my identity has been wrapped around this tapestry of cultural nuiances, humanist worldview, and an idealist’s plea trapped in a realist’s body. The theme of memory; the limitation of human, for both our gain and loss; learning how to love both yourself and those around you; living and seeing that there is more to life than your flesh limitation. Calling each other by our spiritual destinies.
I love ranting about Nadesico. If you can’t tell.
I know a lot of people browse the web when they’re working at a relatively cushy job that lets them, well, browse the web. It’s no big deal if you’re working in an academic lab or something casual, but if you go “squeee” when the blogs on your RSS aggregator link to shady images, don’t complain. Even if you took the care to not read something like HD or the dirty, dirty RIUVA at work, and read sites that are admittedly tame enough, simple looking and don’t follow links to girls in gothloli underpants…
But you should feel very good. Why? Because you’re not one of these people. They nail Blood+ well, I think, but somehow the use of visual, verbal description of the content of their dialogue helps to insulate us from subtle uncomfort of the words, and having the pleasure to converse with both of them just like that changes how I look at the situation. In other words, their podcast is just like any other podcast from these kinds of enterprises. Toki wo Kakeru Shoujo? Props to Rah^2 for linking me with a sexed up Riku, and making me look up Ajia-do. Maybe I will do a lo-down on Blood+ someday, but hearing what I had to say, said, leaves me unmotivated (and that’s a good thing).
Perhaps, one day, when we can idle like the well-to-do fantasy cast of Ouran High School Host Club, we can probably also learn to live like the Poor Sisters from their stories. So we can paint not only cherubums or make snow rabbits, but to do so in honor of both our failures and successes on a day of atonement like today. For these memories that forged Ruri’s identity; that is why a humanist live. Sadly, that’s not how I live; Omoikane is not one for this world, after all.
Definitely not if one gets executed from making bad puns.