“It’s no good pretending that any relationship has a future if your record collections disagree violently or if your favorite films wouldn’t even speak to each other if they met at a party.”—Nick Hornby
I am, but truthfully I tend to end up watching a series a year after it premiers. I’m always a year behind. Between comics & Anime they were generally the only thing i watched and/or read up until I was 20. Then i started getting into American shows and focused more on superheros, anime kind of took the back burner.
I guess you can say i’m a lover of the art and story, i’m just not a die hard fan since I can go a year or two without watching a series. I’m sure once i move back home to Japan that will change. I’m watching Corpse Princess now though…
Gotta kiss your ass a little and tell you I really really enjoy your blog. I just read your post about talking a lot about comics. I feel the same way. Out of curiousity, if you could have the powers of one being in the Marvel Universe, whether good or evil, who would it be? Now how about in the DC?
Marvel: Emma Frost Wolverine Doctor Victor Von Doom.
DC: Darkseid Zatanna Martian ManHunter
I couldn’t keep it down to one each, so i had to be greedy and give you three. Also, thanks for the kiss on ze bum :)
I never like speaking, but when it comes to comics, I can never shut the fuck up.
I think thats why in every day life people think i’m the quietest person with socially awkward interactions, but really, its because none of these people like comics. I can’t make a conversation about how much of a douche your ex is being, or if i saw the latest episode of True Blood. I can’t talk fashion, trends or realistically anything of importance when it comes to the news. I have no idea why, I guess i have my own conversations of these said topics in my head that don’t require an audience.
But I can talk your ear off about how DC has the best villians, Powers is a fucking rad comic and discussing everything there is about mutant abilities. Talking about comics never make me feel awkward, shy or even stand offish. If anything they make me very outgoing and excited. I need more people who enjoy the world of superheros, maybe i wouldn’t be so quiet anymore.
I get this perfect illusion of a life I want to a lead, and then spend the rest of the days convincing myself that this is exactly what i wanted. Right now I feel like I made the wrong choice. My gut instincts are telling me not to push on with the path I started walking down, but my head knows it’s the only thing that makes sense. Stick with where your feet are taking you. But right now all I want to do is run in the opposite direction.
Do I follow a promising career in a field that will artistically kill me, or do I continue being a gypsy that will fianicaially bank rob me. Money over passion, art over cash, stability over hustling. I guess I wouldn’t be an artist if I wasn’t always conflicted.
Its your father. Just wanted to tell you that I love you and your face is stupid. Now come pick up these clothes from my house before you leave for California and forget. Also, pick up some milk. I want to eat Honey Combs and we ran out.
PS. You might want to reevaluate your online time if you read this message before the text message I just sent you.
PSS. Your blog is neat.
PSSS. No really, pick up milk please.
I’ve always turned an eye from my family history, not because I don’t care, but theres a lot of skeleton’s i’d rather not know about. My mom’s side of the family has always been a mystery to me since my dad was the one who raised me by himself. And since my dad was in the marines, the only family i saw outside from him were my grandparents (his parents) that flew over to Nagasaki to watch me when he went on tours. I never got to know my cousins, uncles, or even aunts. Sometimes I would get a post card here and there, or my dad would point out faces in old family pictures and say, “Thats your cousin and uncle!” All I had, was my brother, and within later years, my step brothers.
Growing up completely unaware of your family history you learn to identify more with culture rather than ethnicity. My dad being Mexican and Native American, my mother being Lebanese and Caucasian, and me being confused, I opted to just not be defined, but rather …just be? (excuse my Shakespeare).
My mom felt tonight was the best night to give me a crash course into her side of the family. Tonight was the night I realized how completely crazy it is. She told me about the women five generations before me who were raped, then got pregnant by their rapist and kept the babies. She told me about how she herself was a product of infidelity on my grandmothers part. As romantic as the story is, my grandmother had an affair with a married man, got pregnant and married another man (saying he was the father). Every list of names she went down was either “Died of cancer in their 20’s” “Raped” “Infidelity” or “Suicide.” When it came down to it, these past two generations of my moms family were the only ones to get the “living and maintaining a healthy lifestyle” down correctly. And to be honest, my mom doesn’t even know where her real blood line goes. Especially since her real father was never named, and my grandmother took that secret to her grave.
I looked up at her and kind of had a heavy heart. I think we all have this secret wish that our family is compiled of these incredibly awesome people who did incredibly awesome things. I’m sure they all weren’t filled with a sad story, I mean, I found out my great great grandfather was a photographer for the Railroad which was pretty cool. My dads great great great grandfather was a Native American horse trainer for the Army. But still all I really see is sadness and people who i’ll always feel estranged too. Honestly, outside of my brothers, i’m pretty much estranged to everyone.
It was interesting hearing though. Theres a lot of gaps within the generations and last names that probably will never be filled. Questions that never will have an answer and I’ll never be comfortable with ethnicity simply because I will never be able to identify. But now I know my mom feels the same way, I can’t imagine not knowing one half of who you are because its a shameful secret.
This is just one half of me that i learned, and even though it seemed more traumatic than a fairy story i realized what my mom was doing. She didn’t want me to not know where i come from, where she comes from. Though she doesn’t have the same full circle, she at least wanted to outline a heritage for me. As sad as i was within stories of the names, i kind of feel relieved. I’m finally apart of something, apart of a group of people that i share the same genetics with. So even though I am sad to hear their struggles, i’m glad that I was given the opportunity to now be apart of them and i’m happy some of my questions were answered.
“Look, when you come to the house to do your laundry, you’re going to have to fold your own damn clothes. I’m not going to do it anymore. Don’t leave me anymore notes telling me how Jay-Z doesn’t have to fold his own clothes. Until you spit hot fire or date beyonce, you’re folding your own goddamn Batman pajamas.”—Dad via email.