Paper: When,I,was,no,bigger,than,a,huge

Poem number 134, better known by its first line “When,I,was,no,bigger,than,a,huge” was published as part of Jose Garcia Villa’s second anthology of poems (titled simply as) Volume Two in 1949.  The unorthodox structure the poem shares with the rest of the entries in the collection, as well as the wide use of commas, mark Villa’s shift from the experimental-yet still familiar versification of the poetry in his first compilation Have Come, Am Here, to what could be seen as a Formalist experiment with the nature of the Word itself.  It is because of this nonstandard use of punctuation that it is called a ‘Comma Poem’, but due to its subject matter it is also classified under Villa’s ‘Divine Poems’.

Structurally the poem is composed of four nonstandard-length ‘stanzas’ and a final separate line serving as a ‘statement’ or ‘conclusion’ to the thought of the persona.  The enjambment used in the poem is such that, while ostensibly created from three sentences the reader is given an impression of a consciously-constructed piece, where each stanza begins with two bold and solid ‘lines’ followed by a ‘triangle’ crowned with a single-syllable word or a syllable, embodied with a ‘line’ that could range from two syllables to five syllables in length, and based with a line composed of three syllables, as evidenced below:

Dark,and,yet,most,Lit: in,me,an,

Eye,there,grew: springing,Vision,

Its,

Gold,and,

Its,wars. Then,

Stylistically the structure of each stanza recalls a border or demarcation, where the first two lines form a figurative ‘dam’, and the following three ‘lines’ might seem like a trickle that eventually widens into a torrent.  Though what the exactly it is the dam is holding back or dividing could be subject to a myriad of interpretations (and a topic much more suited to scholars more erudite than this essay’s author), given the poem’s inclusion in the ‘Divine Poems’ a philosophical or metaphysical reading might be more appropriate—sacrilegious musings finally given light, or a divinely-inspired epiphany could be seen as valid.

The poem is classified as a ‘Comma Poem’ due to its use of placement of a comma after every word, most of the time without the space as expected in Prose.  Paraphrasing Villa’s own words from the preface A Note on the Commas, the commas not only serve to regulate the poem’s verbal density and temporal movement, it also gives each word a fuller tonal value, allowing the more measured line movement.  It also has the (possibly intended) consequence of altering the meaning of the poem when the commas are removed; as a demonstration of this (the Penguin Classics edition Doveglion: Collected Poems) a version without the commas (indeed, only three are present) immediately follows for the sake of comparison.  Thus a truly diligent reader will have to read the poem unaltered, then with the punctuation ‘normalized’ to gain a better understanding of its theme and message.

The poem begins with the persona in the midst of reminiscing with “When,I,was,no,bigger,than,a,huge/Star,in,my,self,I,began,to,write.”  If one is familiar with the way stellar bodies work, then it becomes apparent that the speaker is already of at least middling age, as stars actually grow larger (at the same time less brighter) as they grow.  It could be compared to the point where a person is past their peak (physically or mentally) but not so much that their faculties become impaired with age, and at that point in one’s life where a person has enough life experience to be considered ‘wise’.  The fact that the first line cuts at ‘huge’ (instead of the word that follows, ‘star’) seems to underscore this temporal waypoint and milestone, where the persona’s musings seem to turn towards how it defines its current existence, its ‘self’ (note how it is not myself, but ‘my’ and ‘self’).  The persona then reveals exactly what it was internalizing: “My,/Theology,/Of,rose,and”.  There’s an interesting interplay of words and references here, as one would expected philosophy (when one assumes that the persona is talking about what defines how it lives) to be a better choice; and yet with the image of the rose (which, while associated with many pagan goddesses is more recently linked to the Virgin Mary) a connection with the Divine is made.

This connection with the Divine is strengthened with the subsequent stanza’s initial two slines, recalling the image of Blake’s work (and incidentally concluding the first ‘sentence’ of the poem): “Tiger: till,I,burned,with,their/Pure,and,Rage.  Then,was,I,Wrath”.  The Tiger, despite being a creature of ‘fearful symmetry’ is sometimes interpreted to symbolize God, but not as the benevolent creator of late Christian traditions but more of a primal deity, mercurial in temperament and fiery when roused.  Contrast this with the often peaceful Romantic imagery that is attached to the Rose, and you will find a conflicting milieu between these two forces, with each seemingly trying to gain ascendancy within the persona’s being (note how the second line cuts at the word Wrath).  This constant state of opposition between Binaries is highlighted in the lines that follow (Ful/And,most,/Gentle: most,) and partway into the first part of the third ‘stanza’ (Dark,and,yet,most,Lit: in,me,an).

From this roiling conflict within the persona, however, an equilibrium of sorts finally emerges, or perhaps a paradigm-shifting revelation judging from the lines in the third ‘stanza’: “Eye,there,grew:springing,Vision,/Its,/Gold,and,/Its,wars. Then,”. It is an epiphany, yes, but of what?  The lines that follow are shed more light on this: “I,knew,the,Lord,was,not,my,Creator!/–Not,He,the,Unbegotten—but,I,saw”.  It is a strange reversal indeed, as this reads like an outright rejection of the Divine, despite the comparisons done in the preceding stanzas.  After the internalization done in the previous stanzas, the conclusion is as baffling as it makes perfect sense: how indeed can someone of the right mind (and humor one would assume) accept a Divinity so different (see unbegotten, as God was not born like People are, but simply is) and despite purported benevolence has much violence done in its name (the Crusades in the middle ages, and the brutal subjugation of the native peoples of South America by the Spaniards spring to mind), as well as the ostentatious décor being flaunted by its practitioners (after seeing the amount of gold-plated icons in some of the large cathedrals, one would think it ironic that humility is supposed to be a virtue espoused by the Church).

With this virtual rejection of the Divine, the persona also reveals the other answer it has reached: that in the end, if one cannot count on God, then one will have to rely on one’s self.  “The,/Creator,/Was,I—and,” seems like the persona’s Prideful ramblings, but in light of its view on the Divine, is a remarkably Humanistic conclusion, that only Man can truly solve Man’s problems.  Although Humanity has more often than not exhibited the capacity to destroy and create problems, one must remember that Humanity can also create, and solve problems as well…And when one accepts (somehow) a reality where the Divine is distant and seemingly uncaring, then there really is no recourse but for Man (as a whole) to rely on its own judgment to see it through into the future, something succinctly encapsulated in the final line of the poem: “I,began,to,Die,and,I,began,to,Grow.”  Despite having shades of the Biblical Resurrection, it seems to posit that, only when a Person has discarded obsolete notions (‘to Die’) will there be ample opportunity to rely on one’s own strengths to improve his or herself.

Thus the poem as a whole could be seen as a person’s rediscovery of their Self, after years or decades of being dissolute, and affirmation of the capabilities inherent in all of us, breaking through the dam built of self-doubt and entrenched dogma espoused by the society the person had grown up in, thoughts that initially trickled through cracks in the firmament, but eventually becoming a broad torrent of ideas—where Humanity CAN stand on its own two legs, without an omnipresent Divinity watching over our shoulders.  It is a revelation that can be cathartic, to say the least.

REFERENCES:

Doveglion: Collected Poems, Jose Garcia Villa, edited by John Edwin Cohen and prefaced by Luis Francia.  Penguin Classics 2008.

The Anchored Angel, Selected Writings by Jose Garcia Villa, edited by Eileen Tabios and prefaced by Jessica Hagedorn.  Kaya 1999.

Perfidy

Some of the poems I’ve been writing in-between work.  Just general musings on life, I guess, so don’t expect anything profound.

* * *

Five Daughters there were
enough space for a quartet;
quiet sacrifice.

* * *

A sudden rainfall
moisture on the firmament
So ephemeral.

* * *

Knowledge or pleasure
The sand flows through my fingers
–Indecisiveness.

* * *

Melancholy clouds
the Sun in self-seclusion
flowers bow their heads.

* * *

Haste and confusion
Vithar’s wisdom yet ungained
longed-for clarity.

* * *

Weary do I feel
Hastily is knowledge scribed
anxious Daybreak.

* * *

Brow furrowed in thought
tomes longing for attention:
Catharsis ignored.

* * *

Sunrays past noontime
Bedroom partly in shadow
wry Indecision.

* * *

Disguised Pilgrimage
to Byzantium’s ancient shore–
poet’s ecstacy.

* * *

Hypnos on errand;
A soul passed over in haste
a restive twilight.

* * *

A mind awakened
A vessel wrought of Earth’s clay
Bathala’s laughter.

* * *

The minutes whisper,
Idyllic the hours observe
Man’s wasted fervor.

* * *

Anticipated
A young scribe’s fated ordeal
expected Hardship.

* * *

Lonely solitude
My constant companion
My worthless fortune.

* * *

This Hypocricy–
Friends only in name not Act
smothering stillness.

 

* * *

Poe-try must be beautiful!
is what the old sage claimed
But what beauty can be wrought
in heart that never pined?

Poe-try MUST be beautiful!
But what beauty can be gained
from eyes never witnessed
from skin still left uncaressed
by one with Beauty true?

Homely my verse will remain
then ’til the day arrives
when my Heart sees true Beauty
and my Soul set a-fire!

Rebuilding the Army: Tactical Squad Une

Well, one Troop choice done, two more to go.  This should do for the ‘Codex’ configuration squad (meaning a Flamer as a special weapon, and a RPG for both anti-tank and anti-personnel).

Yay.  All I need now is a Rhino to give the squad mobility.

Left to Right: Brother Borjano, Brother Yanii, Veteran Sergeant Sant Une, Brother Alphard, Brother Michelus, Brother Canard

Left to Right: Brother Endrian, Brother Falgo, Brother Gon Loong, Brother Haldrake, Brother Ionius

I never really expected repainting all of my army (so far) to be easy, but it’s been a hilarious uphill climb for just one tactical squad.  The final part, where I highlighted each marine, actually caused undue amounts of pain, as my fingers seized up due to the strain of holding the point 1 paint brush.  ^^;

The observant will have noticed the fact that, aside from the Sergeant (which I converted), all of the marines come from the Assault on Black Reach box set.  I decided to keep the models from that set in a single squad so I could keep track of them.

Now to start on the second squad.  Sheesh, I wonder how long THAT would take, as it’s starting to get hectic, what with my classes and all.

Summative: To an Athlete Dying Young

(This is the one-page assignment for my class tomorrow in Poetics)

In this paper I take a look at one of A.E. Housman’s poems, ‘To an Athlete Dying Young’, and the possible interpretations I, as a reader, might gain from it.  A brief glance at the title of the poem gives an idea to what the subject matter is: Death, specifically the early death of an unnamed athlete.  Composed of twenty-eight lines, the poem follows an AA BB rhyming structure, with each line containing eight syllables each.  Although it uses traditional poetic devices such as personification and apostrophe, the language used is simple and straightforward, and shouldn’t be too much of a problem even for a casual poetry reader to understand.

The most visible theme of the poem is the musings on the issue of Death.  It’s something that many of us wondered about.  There is a very visceral fear attached to the thought of ceasing to be, as when you die, that’s literally the end of things for a person (as far as we mere mortals know of).  Juxtaposed upon this is another theme, something that many of us fear as well: dying young.

It is considered a great tragedy these days to learn of a death of someone who had died, as many consider it a great…waste.  Lost potential, one might say as, if the deceased was particularly gifted, it could no longer be ascertained what heights he or she could have reached and what the person could have accomplished had they lived.  Housman, through the narrator of the poem, however seems to give a different view of the passing of one so young and so full of promise: an early death, at the height of one’s glory, could be considered a blessing.

Why is this so?  Starting at the ninth line, one already gets a glimmer of an idea why: “From fields where glory does not stay/And early though the laurel grows/It withers quicker than the rose.”  Even someone with a passing interest in sports will see that these lines speak of its constantly-changing landscape, where records are made and broken in quick order, and the fame of athletes rise and fall depending on how well they perform.  After all, one wants to be remembered as a champion, instead of a washed-out has-been.

With that in mind, it’s easy to see why the speaker of the poem doesn’t view the passing of his friend with sadness, but a strange kind of relief, or even slight jealousy.  The lines “Now you will not swell the rout/Of lads that wore their honours out/Runners whom renown outran/And the name died before the man” makes it rather clear that, indeed, death so early yet at one’s peak seems preferable to the ignominious fate that awaits athletes general, whose claim to fame is tied to records that are all-too easily broken.  But those who died young, they gain a strange type of immortality, their reputations untarnished by age and viewed with misty-eyed nostalgia by the ones they leave behind (“And hold to the low lintel up/The still-defended challenge-cup”).

Out of Reach

It’s amusing how, during a time when I had considered cutting down on my internet use, our phone line (and apparently, everyone else in our block) went dead.  This was not the cause of providence, oh no, but something more mundane — apparently some imbecile decided it was a good idea to steal the major phone cable to our area.  And so, almost two weeks on, the house has been literally cut off from all phone contact and, since the DSL lines apparently also use the same set of cabling, no internet as well.

While I’m enjoying some of the time freed up by our loss of connection (no more mucking around Animesuki ahaha), it is a bit worrying, as some of my Master’s degree classes revolve around internet communication.  Indeed, the only way to check what assignments one of my professors had foisted upon the class is to go to the Yahoo Group he set up…  Which I can’t do if I don’t have any Net access.

Meaning I’m forced to access the net the old fashioned way: via the nearby Internet Cafe.  Which is where I’m making this post, of course.

Speaking of the assignment, the paper I’m supposed to write is about A.E. Housman’s poem “To An Athlete Dying Young”. Lovely, need to add having a printout for it done added to my list of what I need to do while I’m here at the cafe.

Well, at least it’s something actually school-related to be done…  Though I haven’t forgotten my volunteer work for Gaku-Gaku Animal Land’s Touhou doujin releases.  Just ten more pages to go for the GP KIDs doujinshi Sweet and Gentle, then I can submit it to Voile for final proofreading.

Taking Account

Since I’ve more of less decided to give my Tactical and Devastator Space Marine squads a repaint (after a lengthy dip in Simple Green), I thought it would be fun if I showed off the rest of the models I’d finished while I waited (as it’s going to take a while to repaint all those Troop choices, and I already have a lot of models on the plate as it is).  It kind of struck me how many points worth of models I actually had finished, and most of them occupied the HQ and Elite slots on the Army Force Organization Chart, but oh well.

A keen observer will note that I have a habit of naming important models.  Some are pretty random in selection, but many of the other models follow a theme in their naming, of which I will expound later on.

First off are the main or set piece HQs of my Space Marine Army.

From Left to Right: Brother-Captain Damos, Chapter Master Burgos, Brother-Captain Voltar

High Blade Eugenio Burgos is the Chapter Master of the Azure Blades, with a fairly Codex setup (Artificer Armor, Bolt Pistol, Boltgun with Hellfire Rounds and Auxilliary Grenade Launcher combo, Iron Halo, Frag And Krak Grenades, and Relic Blade), but I use a more unique skill block and a different set of Chapter Tactics when my opponent allows it.  Accompanying him are Brother-Captain Damos of the First Company, who stands in for Darnath Lysander in my games, and Brother-Captain Voltar of 3rd Company, who in turn stands in for Kayvaan Shrike on the tabletop.

From Left to Right: Epistolary A'Gravel, Brother-Captain Kyrios of 4th Company, and Master of Sanctity Basil

Next are some generic HQ units I field in low-point games: A Captain in Terminator Armor with a Power Sword and Storm Bolter (Iron Halo not seen, as at the time I assembled him I didn’t have one on hand, plus it wasn’t an option for characters in TDA), an Epistolary in Terminator Armor with a Force Weapon and Storm Bolter, and a Master of Sanctity in Terminator Armor with a Storm Bolter, Crozius Arcanum and Rosarius.  The Epistolary is named after my friend Alain Gravel, a writer of Evangelion fanfiction.

Sternguard Veterans

Following them are the 1st Company Veterans who are part of the Sternguard formation.   Their names are references to writers of blogs I frequent: Aeson (Jason Miao, Anime On My Mind/Blog Suki), Zyl (Zyl, Hontou Ni Sou Omou/Zan), Peregrinus (Crusader, THAT Anime Blog), Haess (Haesslich, no particular blog, but did part-time writing for THAT as well), and Kaio (Kaiohshin-Sama, Anime History).

Tactical Dreadnought Armor Veterans

More Veterans of the 1st Company, this time clad in Tactical Dreadnought Armor. Four are named after other authors/old acquaintances in the EVA Fanfiction Mailing List, though Haroun is a reference to one of Salman Rushdie’s books. Those named after EVAfic authors are as follows: Filiolus (Godsend),  Te-Loong (Toh Ee-Loong), D’Snyder (Daniel Snyder), and Ka-Wing (Ka-Wing Tam).

Terminators in Assault Configuration

Even more Veterans in Tactical Dreadnough Armor, this time configured as Assault Terminators. They too are named after EVAfic authors; A’Huang (Andrew Huang), S’Sparky (Saint Sparky), Ha’Ut Wirei (Hotwire), Sfiss (Strike Fiss), and Dweeks (Douglass Weeks).

Brother Diego and Brother Koutetsu

Following them are my Dreadnoughts, Venerated Brother Diego and Venerated Brother Koutetsu.  Diego is a normal Dreadnought, but Koutetsu is converted in an Ironclad configuration.

Size Comparison for Reference's Sake

Now for my Vehicles, which occupy the Heavy Support slots in the Army Force Organization Chart. I have three light vehicles based on the Rhino chassis completely painted so far, a Vindicator (Arcturis Claymore), a Whirlwind (Dagger of Antocles), and a Predator Annihilator with heavy bolter sponsons (Varan’s Fang).  Incidentally that’s my Power-Armored Chaplain with the Vindicator, who’s named after Darren Dermaine.

Rhino-based Vehicles: Vindicator, Whirlwind, Predator Annihilator

Finally, rounding off the Vehicles is the modified Mark-I Land Raider Antonius’ Wrath, and of course my (currently) only Drop Pod.

Modified Mark-I Land Raider and Drop Pod

Last up is the only Troop Choice of my Army that seems to have escaped my Repainting, a humble squad of Sniper Scouts.

Scout Squad Donner

And that’s pretty much what I have that’s actually deployable at this point.  Anyone care to compute how many points they are in total?

Across the Precipice

Well, it looks like the hard part is over.  Although there was some shuffling around between the offices of the College of Liberal Arts and the Literature Departnent, it looks like my return to the Master’s Degree program after a term’s hiatus has gone without a hitch.  All I have to do now is show up on Friday for the encoding and payment of the units I enrolled.

Now…  All I have to worry about is finding work again, as it’s going to be awkward just going to class on Saturdays and leaving my week idle.  I wonder if there are any high-paying jobs out there that have normal schedules.  I’m frankly tired of the graveyard shifts that the outsourcing companies keep.  Hmm.

Gone Horribly Wrong

I mentioned in a previous post that I play Ragnarok Online.  Well, last night was one session that I’m sure going to remember for a while.

Conclave (my in-game guild of fellow casual gamers) decided to hold a Branch Party in celebration of our friend (Millia’Rage, the Assassin of my friend Laia Illyia) hitting level 99, meaning she was ready for Transcending.  For those who are not familiar with the term, a Branch Party is a gathering of friends who are there for the sole intent of ganking the random monsters that are summoned by a Branch item.  Normally people use a Dead Branch, which summons non-MVP, non-Boss monsters, but since this was a special occassion, our guildmaster, Jerrard/Soulfist decided to use a Bloody Branch, which summons a Boss Monster instead.  Now, for a casual guild of just about 6 or so active players, this might be an uphill battle at the very least, but the boss was confident that, with our luck, we’d just summon a Golden Thief Bug.

You’ll imagine how complete our surprise was when a Valkyrie Randgris popped out.

At first, we though that, with some smart use of terrain (we summoned in the first corridor of the Sunken Ship, which had a set of stairs and some walls to hide behind) we could take it down.  So I changed characters and used my Paladin, called my cousin, who used his Soul Linker, and had asked Lai to use her high priestess.

The technique to hunting Valkyrie Randgris is nominally simple, and we’ve watched it done many times by parties farming Valkyrie items before: have a Paladin (ideally equipped with the Paladin Battlegrounds set, which increases all non-Demihuman type damage, which I didn’t have) cast Reflect, rush into the mob of Valkyries (but still within range of the High Priestess’ Redemptio), while the Soul Linker rushes with the paladin.  The Soul Linker casts Eske on the boss Valkyrie, and the Paladin bodyblocks the boss and their mob.

It’s pretty much a suicide mission, as the Valks can take down a Paladin in about two hits, but believe me it’s as intended.  The Valkyries damage the paladin, the damage is reflected, and if you don’t think the 40% reflected damage isn’t much, the fact that it’s been multiplied four times by Eske, the damage adds up.  Of course, the Paladin and Linker get swamped, but this is where the High Priestess comes in: the High Priestess, secreted away in a corner the Valkyries can’t reach, but can still see the Paladin and Soul Linker, casts Redemptio.  The result?  The Paladin stands back up hopefully still in the middle of the Valkyries, casts Reflect again, gets killed (obviously), but still reflecting the damage back to the Valkyries, with the Soul Linker recasting Eske on Randgris when its effect wears out.  Rinse and repeat until the Valk is dead.  Simple, right?

Well, it seems that this ’simple’ set of tactics still nearly broke our guild, as Redemptio apparently had a MASSIVE spellpoint cost.  Meaning that Lai’s high priestess had to be CONSTANTLY resupplied with SP-replenishing potions.

You might say that it didn’t really go as planned.

After an hour of rather frustrating lack of success, the guild called it a night, with the Valkyrie still running rampant, but I still couldn’t log out without taking it down, so I just waited a bit, and sure enough some other folks came on to help.  And, surprisingly, the fight ended VERY quickly.  Go figure.

What I’ve Been Watching during my Vacation

Supernatural Slice-Of Life: Natsume's Book of Friends and Mokke

Aside from walking around and taking in the various sights of Singapore once again, I also took advantage of the the WiFi in the area me and my father were staying in to download and catch up on some series that I’ve wanted to watch, but never really had the time to while I was still working.  So I fired up my torrents for both seasons of Natsume Yuujin-Cho/夏目友人帳 (also known as Natsume’s Book of Friends, which I will use to refer to it from this point on), while I picked up where I last left off with Mokke/もっけ.

Both series are, at first glace, rather similar, dealing with the experiences of youth with the ability to see and interact with the supernatural beings, all set amidst the glorious scenery of the gradually-vanishing Japanese countryside.  In Natsume’s Book of Friends, we have Natsume Takashi, a quiet young man in what seems to be middle school or high school; in Mokke, we have a pair of sisters: reserved and yamato nadeshiko-lite Hibara Shizuru, who like Natsume is at middle-school or high-school in age, and her tomboyish younger sister Hibara Miyuki, four or five years her junior.

The powers of the protagonists seem to stem from their bloodline, with Natsume inheriting his ability to see, speak, and touch ayakashi (怪) or youkai (妖怪) from his grandmother (it is not mentioned if she is Natsume’s maternal or paternal grandmother, but given the surname I’m assuming it’s paternal) Natsume Reiko, though he seems to have inherited a few other traits as well, while Miyuki and Shizuru seemed to have gotten theirs from the grandfather, who they live with along with their grandmother.  There is an important difference between the powers of the protagonists of the two series however: the abilities Natsume inherited from Reiko are very powerful, surprising even practiced exorcists, allowing him to sometimes knock around some of the weaker youkai/ayakashi even with a  simple punch, while Shizuru and Miyuki’s abilities are relatively weak, limited to seeing, hearing, and speaking with youkai/ayakashi (for Shizuru) or hearing and being able to speak with (but unable to see) as well as being easily possessed (for Miyuki).

It is no wonder then that Natsume, while not being trained and particularly physically-impressive (indeed for higher-tier youkai he asks for aid from his bodyguard-come-irritant Madara, a powerful wolf-like spirit who seems to love spending more time in the shape of a maneki neko/招き猫), sometimes actually takes a more pro-active stance with regards to his interaction with youkai, whereas the sisters often have to ask for their grandfather’s aid with their supernatural troubles.

Interesting enough for all the trouble his past interactions with Youkai had caused prior to his acquisition of the eponymous Book of Friends (a very VERY thick diary filled with the names of all the youkai Reiko had bullied or defeated, subsequently granting her power of them) as an inheritance, Natsume creates strong friendships and bonds with some of the more benign spirits he interacts with in the course of returning the names of the very same youkai listed in the diary, his gentle nature making him reach out to them when another exorcist would have simply destroyed the youkai out of spite or duty.  The same cann0t really be said for Shizuru and Miyuki, barring one isolated incident with a kamaitachi.

It’s relatively light-hearted fun about growing up for the most part, though both series deal with some serious themes, in particular ostracism from one’s peers.  Y’see Natsume is a quiet loner for a very good reason: for most of his early childhood, he had been teased and bullied by the people around him because of his powers, being called a liar being able to see what other people can’t.  Where his grandmother Reiko reacted to such jibes and accusations by just ignoring them and having fun by herself anyway (one wonders how the heck she was even able to produce a family line that led to Natsume, though since she kept her surname one might assume that whatever relationship she formed never lasted), Natsume retreated emotionally inward, something not helped in the least by the fact that Natsume has spent most of his life (after the death of his parents) shuffling through the care of one distant relative after another, until he finally settled in with the kindly Fujiwaras (a couple distantly related to his father).  Likewise, the Hibara sisters seemed to have been sent to live with their grandparents by their mother for the fear of the ostracism that might occur if other people found out of their abilities; indeed for a good part of the series, the elder sister, Shizuru, muses on whether or not she would still be treated the same if her friends learned that she could see and speak with spirits.

Both series are worth a look for fans of more slower-paced anime.  They certainly need more love, I think.

Tie a Yellow Ribbon

I was supposed to post this yesterday, as I was watching the final rites for the late former President Corazon Aquino on TFC, but the WiFi in the area wasn’t cooperating for some reason.

I was born during the Martial Law era ( to be precise, its ‘Bagong Lipunan’ phase), but grew up in the time that came afterwards, a good chunk of which was officiated over by President Aquino and her successor, President Ramos.  As such, I admit to being one of those young blowhards that take the freedoms we have today for granted.  I mean, my titos and titas, even my father and mother, have their own share of horror stories about how bad it was for people during Marcos’ regime, but they’re just that for us — stories.

I think it’s a testament to President Aquino that, for all the calamities, and coup attempts, and scandals that wracked her stay in office, the children that grew up during that time were never forced to relive the horrors that their elders had experienced.

I was around five years old when the EDSA uprising took place, and even then my memories of that time are fuzzy at the best of times, but when I watched the necrological services, the nearly eight-hour long funeral cortege from Manila Cathedral to President Aquino’s final resting place beside her husband, Senator Benigno Aquino… seing the yellow dresses, the tied yellow ribbons everywhere, the ‘L’ Laban signs waved around… the songs of those past years being sung…  I couldn’t help but tear up.  I’m not ashamed for doing so.  It’s a reminder of how bright everything seemed during that time, and how utterly screwed up the Philippines is right now.

President Aquino had earned her much-deserved rest, a beloved icon of hope.  But the fight she stood for continues, and might not really end for any of us young turks in the near future.  If any of us had an iota of her courage, her piety, her sheer belief in the good the Filipino people can accomplish…  Well, there might still be hope for us.