A Different Kind of Gravitation

Sometime in May, I reverted to thawing my boredom in front of the television watching a lot of OVA’s and DVD’s to serve as a sideline to reading Gothic books (which at that time were depleting in number in the best bookstores I know). The hobby continued until now, and just last night I finished watching the last episode of the latest anime series I found myself drawn to: Gravitation.

I never expected myself to watch this series. By the time I bought the DVD set in Comic Alley I was quite confused why almost everybody in the counter (and some from the customers checking the action figures shelves) were flashing curiously unnerving stares at me. I squinted to yank and check my memory bank if ever I said something wrong upon entering, or if there was something funny with my clothes. My outfit was inconspicuously simple that day—and I’m 101 % sure I was wearing the right pair of socks *elementary days flashed back*. The only thing I said was ‘Do you have the complete ‘Gravitation’ set?” There was nothing wrong with that. Right?

I only realized why they were staring at me when I finally got to watch the series. It’s a shounen-ai anime—boy on boy love anime. *shrinks*. Uh…Well, I was not adverse to such themes but neither I was into it. Scratching my head, I remembered checking the anime in the internet and confirming that it was generally about J-rock music and competitions in the rock music industry of Japan. Since there was nothing I could do, I just shrugged and told myself to at least give the series a chance.

You just don’t know how many times I cupped my cheeks to cover the pink patches flushed over them as I watched the show. Sure, it has a great portion about music. The plot twists around a pink-haired teenager (Shuichi) who established a band with his high school best friend (Hiroshi) and an extremely jumpy producer (Sakano).

They were only budding artists, and our main character was no more than a child, if we were to judge by the looks and how he acts. One night, when he was writing the lyrics of his band’s first song, the paper got blown away from him and was accidentally caught by a good-looking Romance novelist (Eiri). Eiri explicitly remarked that the boy’s writing skills were grade school level. The writer stalked off indifferently, leaving our Shuichi largely embarrassed—and, who would expect—uncontrollably drawn to a different kind of gravitation: love.

That served as the kick-off to a much larger adventure of obstacles and intrigues in the fields of love and career. What I was really (*shrugs* sort of) embarrassed about was the kissing scenes. No, no, it wasn’t like it has extremely adult thing or those violence-tinged snuff movie scenes. Just the unmoving touching of the lips. But still that was a bit awkward, right? (At least for me, one of the ‘first-timers’ for this kind of stuffs) I was just a little relieved that our Shuichi looks a lot like a girl. (And I love effeminate boys!)

It was a good show, and I’m set to hunt for the manga versions of this TV series. I loved it actually, how Shuichi irrationally and determinedly fought for his love for Eiri no matter who he was in the past or who he is now. Ironically, though, the character I loved the most was just a supporting character—the head of the N-G Music Records and former keyboardist of the utterly famous disbanded group Nittle Grasper, Seguchi Tohma. He was a very complicated character—half-villain half-hero, very kind and at the same time merciless; outspokenly obsessive and at the same time secretive; scapegoating and at the same time self-blaming. And hell, he was so cute. An always sweetly smiling blonde who has a really peculiarly cute sense of fashion. He bore a striking resemblance to Quatre Raberba Winner of Gundam Wing (who was my recent favorite).

*shifts uncomfortably in seat* So, okay, let’s stop it here. *laughs* I have the penchant for typing anything about my favorite person, no matter how senseless. In conclusion *scolds myself that I wasn’t in science class but continues anyway*, we should be open-minded in the social context. Oh, love conquers all. *shivers at the corny remark that oozed out my mouth*

Goodnight!

A to Z in AIRIZ

In slivers of minutes in between my overwhelmingly crammed up school schedule, I happened to wonder the mystery behind my name: AIRIZ. Well, it has an "A" in the beginning and a "Z" at the ending. Like the alphabet. Pondering this, I thought of making an alphabet of all the things that have great connections with me. And here's the solid roster:

A is for Androgyny.

I have this weird inclination towards effeminate males—boys that have girlish physical features, that is. Not gays (but don’t get me wrong, I’m not a gay-basher; I love being around them!). So if you have these long eyelashes or if you have these locks curling against the lines of your delicate face, don’t be surprised if I’ll start stalking you *laughs*. Towards females who have masculine physical characteristics, well, I’m not a big fan of them. Nor a big hater. I notice them, but I just don’t mind. But sometimes, I’ll encounter very pretty girls who end up being butches and bisexuals. Naturally, beautiful girls will look good when they dress as boys, better than REAL boys, actually. But I can’t help but feel a pang of regret for them. *sigh*

A is for Astronaut,

too. I’ve dreamed of becoming a space man sometime in my childhood. I’ve not dumped this dream really, but I already pursued the career of being a writer. But if ever I would be given the opportunity to travel in space, well, why not? I love the outer space.

A is also for AIRIZ.

That’s right: my name. I tried researching from the Internet its etymology, and I ended up finding a portmanteau that is nearest my name: “AI”, Japanese word for “love”, and “RIAZ”, Arabic word for “meadows”. My name could have been also derived from “Iris”, Greek goddess of rainbows, or the colored part of the eye—which I think produces some irony. I wasn’t drawn to lively or happy colors: I love black and white. When I asked my mother about where she got my name, she lazily said that it was a brand of a local detergent bar. Wow. Very creative. T.T

B is for Blood.

Bloodbath, bloodshed, blood lust, blood pudding—you name it, I love them all. Amputations, murders, sudden deaths, they all delight me because of blood. I love staring when I got myself wounded and when the red fluid would blob out and roll down my skin; when I gobble blood sausages-in-stick from the street sides of Tondo, I feel like Kate Beckinsale from the blockbuster vampire movie Underworld. This provides still some more irony—I love life. Animals! And humans. Well? It’s sickening to be in between. Sure, blood is life, but I can’t help myself but to feel excited when blood flows out. And blood flowing out means pain, suffering—and death. Death, the extreme opposite of life. I think I need counseling. Right? Or maybe there’s just no cure to this giddy lunacy? GAAAAH.

B is also for Books.

I'm fond of reading and most of the time, I buy the books that I read. It's like they were my...children. I want to keep them in my home after I read them, then take care of them as if they really were alive. They can take me anywhere in places I have never been.

C is for cartooning.

I’ve been a budding editorial cartoonist and illustrator for our high school organ, and my career as one brought me to have several once-in-a-lifetime experiences. I met The Philippine Star’s editorial artist, Mr. Rene Aranda, when I and my teammates advanced towards the regional school paper competition in 2006. I got to befriend cartoonists from other parts of NCR too.

C is for cemetery too,

especially the one I get to see everyday before and after school, a Chinese cemetery. It spreads under the Abad Santos and R. Papa LRT stations. I spend some time staring at the fabulous mausoleums—yeah, yeah, “the rich people’s funny folly”—when I get off at the R. Papa depot and while I wait for the traffic light to turn red before crossing to the other side.

C is also for confection.

Anything that can give me teeth-ache is lovable for me.

D is for Death.

First, the biological death: end of life. Then the disambiguated Death, a fictional character created by Neil Gaiman: the Goth, perky teenage girl that ironically wears the Egyptian ankh (signifying life) as a pendant in her necklace. Next, all the other symbolism of Death: the Grim Reaper, the skull and cross-bones, graveyards. I love Death as much as I love life. Whoa, which proves yet again my dichotomy. I have a great affinity to death, with a reason that until now haunts me.

D is for Destiny, too.

Does the Walker choose the path, or the path choose the Walker? For many times it has been argued if ever destiny really is the reason why the happenings in our lives…well… happen. For me, I know there really is a destiny--set by God. He knows the best for us, and for that matter He drew on our palms the map that would lead us anywhere we can know ourselves better. I believe that whatever happens to me happens for a reason, and that reason, God alone knows. He'll never let us go without any direction. If there's a time in our life when it seems that we have no real directions to start with, maybe the defect is in US--God provides us all, including that destiny. Our role is to realize that and carry on to life with a fact in mind that there's a reason we're here.

E is for endings.

Who could not put importance on them? You cannot start to write a good story without knowing how it will end. More than any part of anything, the ending is the most powerful. Whatever you did in the portions before this will decide your ending. It may be the ending of life, the ending of a dream, the ending of an affair. Or just the ending of a fairy tale. Whatever it is, all will be funneled into this conclusion. Is it worth it? Go figure.

F is for family.

Whew! I don't think I should even explain this. My primary priority in life. They are my first friends, my first teachers, the most important part of my life. I could not imagine myself living without them. Actually, they’re the primary reason WHY I live in the first place. And so they dictate how my pulse swims in the electrocardiogram and I anyone close to me can attest to that.

F is for friends.

My circle, and my second family. And by saying that, they become the extension of my biological family. I love their company; they make me happy, whatever happens. Of course, petty quarrels cannot be avoided, but that’s what makes a colorful friendship. What is important is we are there for each other. XD

F is for flamingoes.

These pink birds are really cute! Haha. I just hope I can keep one here in our house. I like them because their color is naturally pink. I’ve seen pink chicks driven into our community in makeshift carts during the feast of our patron saint, but their color fades off to everywhere they stick—to my palms, to my shirt… *recoils* So maybe I can find a real pink avian creatures. Hahaha. Crazy me.

F is also for fetish.

My abnormalities! *giggles* I fetishize death, blood, earlobes…and many more. Any scientist who’ll get to formulate a cure for all of these hasn’t been born yet—or is already slumbering in his grave.

G is for God.

Bestfriend!! Each and everyone’s guardian. His love is the greatest—it must be a cliché, but it’s an undying truth. I remembered one website that ranked top 10 mysteries that up until now haunt the human race. God topped the list—His existence in particular. I believe God exists, and that will never change. He is always there, even for those who do not believe in Him.

G is for Garth Nix.

My favorite author. I love his ‘Old Kingdom Trilogy’ the best—and its theme? Death. Necromancers were the main protagonists, and Death was yet again disambiguated as a realm of where people go after they breathed their last. The first installment was ‘Sabriel’, followed by “Lirael: Daughter of the Clayr”. “Abhorsen” sequels ‘Lirael’. A spin-off was added, a short story collection entitled “Across the Wall”. In 2010, another book would be released with the title officially confirmed by Nix as “Clariel: The Lost Abhorsen”. An untitled sequel to this would still be produced. I’m waiting. XD

G is also for Gerard Way

the vocalist of my favorite band, My Chemical Romance. He fetishizes vampires and bloody stuffs—I romanticize him. Hahahah!

H is for the heart.

Heart, the fist-sized flesh that pumps out blood to all parts of the body in order to give life. That’s in science. For me, it’s this black meat that was constantly hurting my sternum whenever I’m in high emotions. It’s a vital thing, for it’s the basis whether there is life and there is death. I love the heart for I love Life and I love Death. PS: It’s a greatest criminal, too, for it can kill someone *both literally and figuratively*. Love, love, love.

H is also for hammock.

My best sleeping place. It feels like someone was holding you in his arms, lulling you into dreamland. The best if it would be placed under the night sky, with winds kissing me goodnight. Wow. Pepper constellations to add ecstasy. Hahahah.

I is for irony.

Irony—that’s what my life is all about. My life’s a patchwork of stitched jigsaw contradiction pieces. I think I need no evidence.

I is for ice cream,

too. I remembered gobbling down a half-gallon of chocolate-flavored ice cream while finishing the last five episodes of G.Wing on my dad’s laptop.

J is for Journalism.

For more than half a decade, I've been practicing the ethics of student journalism. I decided to pursue a career in the said field and as of this moment, I'm about to finish the first semester of my second year in college. I know I'm going to do it. XD

J is for Judas Coyne,

the main protagonist of Joe Hill’s debut novel, ‘Heart-Shaped Box’. He’s middle-aged, but he’s as lovable as any of the youngest rockstars around. And I’m very drawn to him because we share one of the weirdest fetishes around: morbidity (severed fingers for chess pieces, a trepanned human skull as pen holder, imagining the chocolate-covered cherry you’re chewing as a choco-coated eyeball, cannibal’s cookbook, etc).

K is for kitchen.

Once I enter this room, its name would change to ‘Hell’. Recklessness plus cooking ignorance equals a freaky kitchen mishap, and the equation fits me well. I could help you clean off some heated left-overs anyway, and that’s my sole sensible role in there.

L is for love.

—well, actually I've run out of things in mind that starts with letter L that I thought deserved to be in this roster, and I thought this abstract noun will fill in the gap somehow. LOVE. The most abused word in the world, used everyday, sometimes meant, sometimes used to inflict pain. Anyhow it was used, one thing's for sure: it's a wonderful thing. Pain is always there, of course, and it's part of love's beauty.

L is also for LIARS.

Of course there were times in my life that I lie, and for some time I hated myself for lying. Over time I came to realize that lying is a part of human nature. But I say, too much lying is unhealthy. Especially for those people who are NEVER the good actors they think they are. White lies count here, of course. Too much of a thing can be really dangerous.

M is for Music, especially that of My Chemical Romance.

Music lulls my heart to a relaxed seventh heaven and I’d die in extreme elation if MCR’s Gerard Way would sing me a lullaby to sleep *hahaha*. My Chemical Romance is the best band the world could ever have--in my view. They really are. Listen behind the violent lyrics. Feel the emotions reeking in every word. Reach out into something invisible that all the time is reaching out to you when MCR's music plays. Then you'd know why I love them so much.

M is for Maki. Maki Horikita.

That cute Japanese girl who played the bullied-mouse-turn-ghostly-murderer in the movie One Missed Call: Final. That’s my first encounter with her. And from the very second I saw her I knew I’d like her. Perhaps there’s something in her eyes that made me magnetized to her.

M is for another Maki, California Maki.

The viscous rice, the deliciously salty nori (seaweed wrappings), the tasty crabmeat and the tart mango—they could all set my mood right. C.Maki in local food-courts were on the verge of being called a disappointment, but most of the time I’ve got no choice but to purchase when I’m short on cash. XD Tokyo-Tokyo C.Maki’s are the best.

N is for naive realism.

I'm not a big fan of perception theories, but I think I should mention one here, intended for all-too-practical people. And I must admit, I'm sometimes one of them. But for a few ways, I know that even the smallest things that exist have their own story to tell, essence to life. Naïve realism states that “what you actually see is the object and not a mental representation of it”. True, but let’s get a little truer here. Ordinary objects tell extraordinary stories. Like when you pass an empty playground. What you see is a vacant sand-box or a lonely swing slightly stirring with the blowing wind. . Who knows if the footprints left engraved in the sand-box is actually from a child who finally took his first baby steps ever? You'll never know, but it would be nice to even just to think about such things.

N is for notes.

Musical notes and the literal notes in schools. I always associate myself with music (I LIVE WITH IT) and no matter how much I want to go away from school stuffs, I just can’t. I live with them as well. Oh well.

O is for Outer Space.

I’m totally fascinated by outer space! The stars urged me to dream high, so high that my childhood mind reached the ambition of being an astronaut someday. My favorite’s stars were Rigel Kent, Spica, and Polaris *smiles at the thought of the tiny jewels*.

P is for Photography.

Photography is a way of life. Photographs are frozen memories, but were warm enough to tell life stories. I'm a shutterbug by heart and I know that my photographs aren't the best--BUT I make them with passion. It's not my number one priority and if I have the enough time and..err, well, money... then maybe I'll have more time with my camera. XD All the same, I love photography!!

P is for palavers.

Talking would be one of the nicest things to exist here, but when I choose to shut up you wouldn’t be able to get me to talk. I seldom indulge in palavers, but I’d gladly idle-talk with you (even I’m not in mood) if you’re that special to me.

Q is for Quatre Raberba Winner.

Perhaps the sweetest thing next to chocolates. He was an anime character and I loved him for thirteen years now *smirks*. Quatre was read as ‘Katt-rah’, the French word for ‘four’. In Japanese, he was called Katoru. When the anime was dubbed in Tagalog, he was called Quattro. I call him my Prince of Fairyland *laughs*. He’s one of the most unique characters in realistic anime, too: he was the only white-skinned, blond-haired Arabian I knew and the only STRAIGHT guy with a bunch of sisters (and I mean 29 sisters).

R is for Revelations.

My favorite book in the Bible. It was entirely hair-raising and I love reading it all over again. Symbolism galore here! And I say Bible is the greatest book to be ever written.

R is also for the rain.

Yes, I love the rain. It might be true that there's not so much to do when it's raining and that a lot of people hate rainy days for various reasons (like, it can make them sad...or bored), but I...just love the rain. For some reason, it makes me nostalgic. I somehow missed the days when I could dance and tumble while water was pouring on my face as a kid, but not in a sad way. The rain make me feel young again, that's it. Getting older is inevitable, but it's not forbidden to make yourself feel that the child in you never really leaves.

S is for static trapeze.

One of the air acts on a traveling circus. I’ve only seen one in YouTube and other local websites. I’d like to try one myself (I’m a FLYING freak!) *laughs loudly*.

S is also for Sleep.

Morpheus’ arms offer me this. I love sleeping, and I could sleep anywhere possible.

T is for teetotalism.

I don’t drink (alcoholic beverages, that is). I’m not a health freak but I think I’d diminish my ‘collection of diseases’ by not drinking alcohol. I’m ready to die, but it would be awkward if I would die young. It wouldn’t hurt me if I wouldn’t drink, anyway. And uhm, I don’t like the bile taste or the smell of it.

U is for umbilical chord.

I have and always will abhor abortion. The umbilical chord for me is a sign of life, because at the very tip of that chord, lives of little angels were connected. When you cut it to KILL an angel, I wouldn’t doubt muttering curses under my breath, with a small silent prayer for BIG castigations. God has His ways.

V is for Vampires.

Hmm. To anyone who knows me very well, what I will put for the letter 'V' is a dead giveaway. I love VAMPIRES! Though, not the typical Dracula-thing. The beautiful Selene (Kate Beckinsale) in Underworld is one of the best vampire roles I could imagine. She's a rebel of sorts, and I think I wish I have the guts to rebel like the way she did. Commendable.

V is for vanilla-flavored milk tea.

Yes: TEA over coffee. A thick mug of vanilla-flavored milk tea begins and ends my day just the way I wanted it to be. They were my mood setters. I occasionally drink coffee, and I swig decaf and chamomile-flavored (Nescafe Relax) if I would want variations in my drinking regime. I only drink black coffee with my father.

W is for wax balls.

Up until now, I loved wax balls—the toys we little creatures mold from the drippings of candles annually during November 1. We would hop from one grave site to another, not to mention sneaking in empty mausoleums to accrete our balls. Later on, we would sell them to the lady outside the cemetery, P5.00 per kilo. T.T That was laborious, but we’re not after the material compensation we would get. It was more on the happy experience.

W is for Wings,

too. I’m obsessed with wings. Almost anything with wings fascinates me intensely (I think except for cockroaches). That’s why I love the archangels, the seraphim and cherubim, the butterflies, the airplanes, eagles… and would I forget Gundam wing? *smirks at the childishness*( I love the aircraft carrier in the movie—it was like a sleeping angel wrapped in his wings!)

X is for the symbol ‘X’—errors.

I’m not perfect—like everyone else around. I made mistakes everyday, and as much as possible I’m struggling not to repeat them. That’s a sign of progress. I apologize if I make mistakes, and that doesn’t degrade me ONE bit.

Y is for yellowed pages of old notebooks.

They suggest age, and they reek off the scent of yesterday that could bring back everything in your head. I love oldness, really.

Z is for zappy.

One of the adjectives that could define me.

Z is also for ZERO HOUR.

In other terms, it’s the time or day when something important is due to happen. Personally, I consider every moment in everyone’s life as zero hour. Breathing in IS an important thing. Your life is an important thing. To get it over with, what I’m saying is that everybody should live like there’s no more tomorrow. Who knows if tomorrow will ever come in someone’s life anyway? Anything can happen. LIVE.

Z is also for ZIRIA.

Guess what it is. No, it’s not a country. It’s my name’s anagram (AIRIZ). Ah, well, just to remind you that I authored this. And just to remind you, dear reader, that you’ve just read how someone like me lives. Congratulations. XD

Widowed for Weeks

There are several moments in my life that I want to freeze into something that I could hold onto forever.


Or, for a three fourths of a lifetime at least.

For instance, I want to bring home a portable box of the raindrops dribbling against the cobblestones of Intramuros; the cotton-candy clouds thawing into a sea of pink sunlight; the ragamuffins leaping in uncontrollable excitement over the steel rails of the local railway; the crimson of the sunset dyeing an abandoned doll on the bench; or even the simplest things that I treasure, like my father’s smile. They were more than precious.
Sure, I could always keep them in my heart for an eternity, but some kind of a material remembrance would be better, right? Especially that I have this irritating sometimes-long-term-and-sometimes-short-term memory loss. Well, I have the answer: photography.

Indeed. And admittedly, this light-drawing thing is something that could make my hair stand on end or stain my cheeks with patches of curiously inconspicuous pink (perhaps due to my ashen caramel pigment, eh?) just by staring at the photos. Wow.

My father finally bought me a Canon F55-F55D just recently and I was beyond grateful for it. I started wreaking havoc with it, clicking here and clicking there until my ecstasy would be cut abruptly when the LCD panel blink to tell me that I’ve ran out of ammo (read: film). It wouldn’t be long when I’d be joining the ‘battle’ (of sorts, in a sense that it eats up a big, JUICY slice of time from my already crammed up schedule) again, because I would do anything to resume….’fighting’.

And just more recently, since we ran short of cash for the payment of the heap of bills that have been pinned up impatiently on our refrigerator door, mother have to pawn the camera to a friend of her. I felt like widowed, really, but I couldn’t do anything. Besides, mother was more important; our supply of water and electricity were important too. I think Kaleido (the name I christened the camera) could wait.

So I stopped the shutterbug-ging for some time. It was a bit timely, since my schedule tightened up a little (just a little) more with a little (just a little yet again) more school bunkums. But as the month of June waved bye-bye, we were able to redeem Kaleido after we paid off the pawnbroker with half my allowance my school provides me monthly.

I wasn’t able to return to the same level I left off the last time I spent with Kaleido, but my love for him didn’t trail off. I didn’t have much spare time, that’s the only problem. Purchasing ammo was out of the question too, because my mother kept on stacking lessons about austerity in my head time and again. (And boy I was conscientious about the bucks I splurged!) Anyway, I’ve bought myself my very first i-mag photography magazine and I think it’s quite practical to study more about photography before running around like a moron with a little black machinery dangling from her neck.

Okay, I’m a self-proclaimed mad schoolgirl but my Kaleido isn’t a machine by any means. He’s my love! I would give him full-time attention this coming October, when the first semester ends.

I’m looking forward to it. XD