My Brief Anime History

In my Formal Introduction I stated that I discovered anime around eleven or twelve.  There’s a possibility that I was a little younger than that, but I don’t exactly remember.  What I do remember is watching Dragon Ball and Dragon Ball Z with my brother and sister in elementary school. I believe I was in the fourth grade when I started watching it, or at least that’s as far back as my memory of it goes.

The three of us would wake up at midnight to catch the show on Toonami.  I believe we either set alarms or one of us would wake up first, then stir the others, but regardless we’d all end up in the living room together watching the epicness that would take place in the episode airing.  I also recall doing something similar when we started watching Cowboy Bebop, but I recall seeing that one specifically with my brother.

From there, I continued watching anime with friends or even my step siblings (I didn’t mention that I have step siblings in my introduction, but I do have them).  My love for it grew and grew as I enjoyed anime such as Outlaw Star, Inuyasha, Fruits Basket, Yuyu Hakusho, Full Metal Alchemist, Sailor Moon, and yes, even Pokemon.

I don’t remember exactly what age I started reading manga at, but once I started that, it became my main fix.  Manga at the time was cheaper and easier for me to collect, so I collected as much of it as I could.  The first series I started collecting was Angel Sanctuary by Kaori Yuki.  I fell in love with its story and artwork, some of it still being some of the most beautiful work I’ve seen.  My collection grew as I got my hands on things like Because I’m a Goddess, Princess Ai, D.N. Angel, Loveless, Fairy Cube, Absolute Boyfriend, After School Nightmare, and (more recently) Judge and Corpse Party.  I haven’t finished collected all of these necessarily, but the majority of what I have in my collection is completed, which I’m pretty proud of.

As I got older, my love for the darker side of anime got stronger and stronger.  The first time I saw Tokyo Ghoul I fell in love.  That became a quick favorite of mine, for reasons I may write about later. I also highly enjoyed shows such as Hellsing, Blood C, Shiki, Parasyte, Another, Future Diary, and (currently) Monster.  At this point in my otaku life, I’m enjoying gory and psychological thriller types of anime/manga to be more and more.

Recently, I got the inspiration to write about the different manga and anime series that I’ve seen or read.  Part of this was sparked by watching YouTubers like Akidearest, Misty Chronexia and The Anime Man (links to their channels will be provided at the end).  The other part of this was sparked by the pure fact that I really love the otaku community and want to be more apart of it.  It’s been in my life for a long time, being something I grew up with, and I think it would be a fun topic to share and explore with others.  I’m much too big of a chicken to ever do YouTube confidently (too much ‘stage fright’), but writing is what I do, so here I am.

Anyway, a little while ago, I wrote my first manga review.  I will be proof reading it soon to post here.  Also, just for fun, I’ll be creating a list of things I’ve seen or read, am currently watching or reading, or that I’ve got on hold.  I also recently started attending local conventions and will be sharing my experiences of those soon too.  I’m excited to be continuing my otaku journey on my blog, and hope to make some fun connections with others by doing so.

©S.T. Feb. 8, 17

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Untitled- Aug. 2016

I may go back and give this poem an official name later, but until then…

Untitled – Aug. 2016

Laying in this dark room corner,
I’m aware of my mental disorder
Of always feeling completely
Alone.

It is a trick, I know of this,
Yet inside my brain there is a tick
Gnawing away at
Reasonability.

So down I spiral deeper in
This depressing hole inside my soul
While I pretend I am not
Shrinking.

Do they see? Those around me,
Can they focus their vision rightly,
In time to save me from this
Enemy?

Laying in this dark room corner,
I am eaten by mental disorder.
Parasites, they nibble on my
Brain.

It is a trick, I know of this,
But still I fail to silence the tick
Gnawing away at
Sensibility.

So here I go, still on the fall
While I pretend that life’s a ball.
Maybe I’ll be ok
After all.

©S.T. Aug. 14, 16

The Heap

I chose this poem for my first post under Lost In Words because I still feel the emotion that went into it. I remember writing it, and the struggle I felt with trying to get out all these things that were buried in me.

The Heap

The rocks in my stomach 
Threaten to come up somehow,
And I know I can't stop the pain.

The pressure builds in my core,
The weight of it crushing my pit,
And I don't know if I can handle all of it.

The rocks, I feel, tare up my throat
The jagged edges making me choke,
And I know I will never speak again.

There's blood rushing out of the tares,
The liquid blocking my air.
I know I won't survive...

This devastation -
This absolute loss of salvation.
I can only see the darkness,
For I am completely blinded by this.

The rocks fall out of my mouth and onto the floor,
There seems to be nothing but more
And I crumble in the pile of my mess.

There is nothing left of me.
Turned inside out by what was buried in me, 
I'm now just a part of the heap.

©S.T. Jun. 26, 13

A Formal Introduction

My name is Sara. My initials spell SAT, and I’ll leave you to guess what the middle and last ones stand for.

I was born June 22, 1989 to JoAnn and Calvin.  I’ll be turning 28 in June. I’m the middle child of three; my brother is turning 31 and my sister will be 24 this year.
I’m the only child my mom labored with. Like my brother before me and my sister after, I was delivered through c-section seventeen hours later. I’ve been told I looked hairy and purple, and I was mad as heck. Soon after, the physical issues did subside, but it would take much longer to heal from the deeply embedded anger that I carried with me into this life. To this day, there are still many deeply rooted things I continue to balance and understand, but all of that is for a future post.

 
I grew up in a house my father built with my great uncle (his side). They built it on a piece of property my grandparents (mom’s side) split with my parents. Our house was a three bed, two bath home. Coming in through front door, there was a small entry way with a small kitchen nook to the left. That nook was later converted into a fourth bedroom. Beyond the entry way was the living room, and a hall way to the right which led to the main bathroom and bedrooms. When you looked down it, you could see the bathroom. The first door the left of the hall way was my parent’s/mom’s room. It had its own full bathroom with a slider door that separated the sink from the toilet and shower. In the back of the room, there was a sliding glass door that led to the back deck. In the back of the living room, double doors led to the same deck. To the left of the living room (when coming into the home) was the kitchen and dinning room. A bar counter separated the kitchen from the living room. I remember sitting at it and watching my mom cook. Going back down the hall way, there was a right turn, and at the end of that were the bed rooms my siblings and I had. For most of my childhood, I shared a pink bedroom with my little sister, and our brother had a blue room right next to ours. The windows looked out into the front yard at the almond trees that were there. We lived in this house until I was about 20 years old. My house and all the memories I have of it, are also a topic of their very own.

 
I’ve been writing little poems for as long as I can remember. My grandpa on my mom’s side had saved a poem about a blond haired and blue eyed girl I wrote when I was five or six, and one of my aunts on the same side of the family has a poem about peace I wrote when I was probably eight or nine. I don’t have full recollection of doing these, but I do remember writing a lot and making up stories and characters. I think that’s why anime turned out to be so appealing to me when I discovered it around eleven or twelve.

I also remember keeping journals. One of the earliest journals I have is one I decided to write upside-down and backwards in. If I recall correctly, I wrote that I did this because I wanted it to be complicated to read in case someone found it. As I grew older, my mom recognized how I was writing and what I was trying to say with it; and when we were having our biggest communication problems, she used writing to close the gaps. I still have letters and cards she wrote to me expressing to me her love and concerns for me.

I had always had a hard time verbalizing my emotions and issues.  When I was in elementary school, I would have tremendous tempers that spanking or punishing never made a difference in. My mom started hugging me and asking me what was wrong instead. That was when I finally admitted that other children were taking lunch money and food from me.

My mom is also a post of her very own, but I will say here that I am internally grateful for her. If she didn’t recognize this need to express the way I did (and still do), I don’t honestly think I’d still be alive. By supporting my writing, art, and personal style, she gave me a place to belong. And that was something I thought I’d never have, and it’s something I still fear I will either loose or only have the illusion of obtaining.

As a child, I role played before I even knew that was what it was called. My mom used to have a red, silk night-gown that I used to play in. I felt like a princess in it, so I ran around my yard as one who escaped from poisonous snakes and hot lava. We had a swing-set that had a slide and teeter-totter on it, and I remember pretending to use it as a escape route or obstacle course.

When I got a little older I started role-playing, writing stories and creating characters by myself or with friends. I created characters when I was little too, but I don’t remember writing like that until I was older. Poetry, on the other hand, was something I always remember doing.

Now that I’m older, I can see where writing has always been, and always will be, a part of my life. I’ve lived through it since birth, it seems, for I can’t think of a time where I wasn’t doing it in some way. I wrote my feeling and events in journals (still do); I write poems (this is really the first time I’ve decided to go through with pursuing it this strongly); I wrote short stories and role-plays in middle and older childhood; and I even used it to communicate and talk to people, writing letters to multiple friends in high school and even to my mom when I couldn’t verbally talk.

I’m grateful for this. I’m thankful that this turned out to be part of the mix that made me the cake I am. Because when I read this and I think about it, I wouldn’t be who I am without it.

©S.T. Jan. 28, 17

About The Author

In Marilyn Manson’s I Want To Disappear, he sings “I’m a million different things, not one you know.”  For a long time, I kept held back on fully expressing myself.  Now, it is my time to share all my million different things.  Welcome to The Book Of Sara, where you will see me for all that I am.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been writing.  I wrote in journals, in forms of poetry, and created role-playing stories with friends in school.  In major times of angst and depression, writing was my savior.  Writing isn’t just apart of my life, it is my life; it’s what I live through.

As my strongest form of communication and expression, I am glad to have finally found a place where my writing and I belong.  Here in this blog, I hope to share my poetry, personal story, and other interests.  I want to share what writing has done for me in my life, in hopes that doing so will do for others what it does for me.

My name is Sara, and I’m finally doing what is really me.

If You’re Expecting Something…

Writing has always been apart of my life.  It’s the shoulder I rest my head on; the thing I share my thoughts, feeling, decisions, and desires with; the creative outlet that helped me express myself; the personal journals I discovered myself in.  It grew up with me, and I with it.

I’m not exactly sure what people should expect from this blog.  My goal is to simply connect to readers on a deeper, more personal level.  I can only hope to achieve that by writing about what I’ve come to love, experience and learn.

P.S.

Check out the welcome page for descriptions of the different categories I created for this blog.

S.T. Jan. 28, 17