Suicidality

 I have a lot of personal history with suicide and suicidality. My mother, very likely took her life (can't be confirmed due to no note or witness to her overdose), my uncle killed himself by jumping off a bridge in the town I currently live in, and one of my closest friends Kyle killed himself during a manic episode a couple years ago. Now within the context of these three people, they all had bipolar disorder, and I have been diagnosed with it - a notion that terrifies the hell out of me. With each individual you know personally that has committed suicide, your personal chances of doing it yourself shoot up drastically. 

I have only personally come close to suicide two times within my life. I've been depressed, felt hopeless, have dealt with having a ton of general apathy towards existence; however I have only ever come close to actively taking my own life twice. The first time was a little over a year ago, the night before I had a dream that felt like it had lasted a whole half decade on this earth. I had lived this alternative life where my relationship with the first girl I had truly loved worked out, I had felt each wave of affection, passion, putting together broken pieces that comes with a long term relationship with this girl in that one night. Within that same dream, I was next door to my best friend, Terry, and I was still in good standing with my friend Juan who I had recently had a falling out with and we just lived and enjoyed life together. It was all I wanted at that point, that companionship, that romantic closeness. I was in a relationship at the time that was in hindsight very obviously me attempting to resolve the trauma I had with the girl in that dream, Val, so I was dating this hopelessly codependent person to prove to myself that I could've taken care of Val, as our relationship ended during this time when she was fearful of her mother cutting off the family and I had begun to throw myself in to 50 hour work weeks so that I could support the both of us; and as I reach the point where it seemed to be a reality, she broke up with me. As well during that time I desperately longed for deep connection, some comradery. I wasn't getting it from my partner, I was lying to their face without even realizing it. At work I was very well liked but it was all paper thin, sure everyone liked me, but they didn't know me deeply. They hadn't gazed upon my soul.

So when I woke up from that dream, I cried, I cried a lot. I mourned a life I very literally dreamed of. I loved the lie my brain constructed so much, nothing outside of it felt worth fighting for, a reality that wasn't that which I had lived in that dream was not one I wished to be around for. The ephemeral "what ifs" we distract ourselves when we refuse to accept the past, all those hypotheticals we ponder and consider, they became real for me in a night. Every wish, every desire my soul ached for at that time was given to me and was then taken away from me that day. I hated everything that had become at that moment. A person who had been content and accepting was ripped of those delusions like it was nothing. I wanted nothing more than to stop that, I hated having to grieve that world. I believed myself to not be a person chained by desires of the could have beens, never believed myself to be man with regret. But I felt regret for life that I deeply believed could have been. A life that felt to be all my fault to had not been obtained. "If only had I made better choices" "If I had only understood them more" "If only I had done a better job at keeping in touch" The only thing that kept me over the edge was I instead became insolently angry at others when they tried to get my attention during this state of crippling depression. I focused on that anger and let it distract me until those feeling got repressed, like all my other feelings have been. Another step into the cess-pit of alexithymia. I wasn't emotionally intelligent enough to try and understand  what my brain had begun to try and communicate to me subconsciously. I pushed it down and went forward.

The second bout of suicidality I had was this year. For some reason I had felt compelled to listen to my friend Kyle's favorite album, The Hotelier's "Home, Like NoPlace Is There" I hadn't ever listened to it in full before, never gave it a deep listen. So that time, in mid February of this year I came across two songs on that album.  "Your Deep Rest" and "Among The Wildflowers". Those songs felt like daggers. In their contents were commentaries directed sniper accurate at me. I was called out. I felt I failed that friend, I felt I could've saved them, but I didn't do all that could. All the wasted time cascaded over me, I could've done so much more to keep in touch, make them feel safer, I couldn't accept what kind of friend I had been. "A good friend could've made it not happen" "A good friend could've given them more reason to live, to stay". This time I hadn't distracted myself from the emotions, I didn't cry though. I was numb. I felt a clawing lack of anything. An existential vast nothing. I had no ties to where I was. It could all end and I wouldn't mind, a true nothing would feel better then this nothing full of dread, a nothing that made my throat burn and stomach hurt, made me shake and sweat but freeze and shiver at the same time. I just worked a lot to distract myself from this one. 

I've come to a lust for life recently. For as long as I could remember I have been fighting. I was surrounded by failed adults. I never had an example, a role model. All of the relationships I was exposed to as child, Toxic. They had no discipline, complete slaves to their desires. The people who were supposed to have my best interest in mind had done everything to ensure that I was given the worst of opportunities. I have such a deep love for Terry and his dad, Andy, because these were the only two people I can point at and say were the two positive influences I had. But in all the other adults, I had grown a resentment. I had to prove something to them, prove something to myself. I had to prove it could be done, if you white knuckled it, gritted your teeth, put in the work, had the discipline; IT COULD BE DONE. I wanted to show them that they didn't have to fail me if they just had the will, what they lacked was strength and I was going to show them what real strength looked like. And I did it. I worked my ass off. I reached the top of my workplace. I was the king on his throne, a throne built on the hate filled temper tantrums of a kid that wished he had been able to live. I did it. I proved to myself that with determination and discipline I could make it, but I wasn't happy. While I could prove to myself that success was a possibility, that it was within my abilities; I never even thought to ask myself what I wanted for myself. I was so busy in my pursuit to show up these adults that I never even begun to ask what I wanted. I wasn't living for myself. In a bitter irony, I had come to realize that those adults still ruled and controlled my life, just now it was through trauma instead of their actions. So I started taking steps towards what I wanted. 

I gave up that top position, I couldn't begin making the steps I wanted if I was working 60 hours a week.  I couldn't make the steps I wanted if I kept that position and the weight it carried. I stepped down. Stepping down let me break up with a person I had no love for, let me run from their hold on me. Stepping down gave me the opportunity to spend time with the girl I do love. A girl who was a coworker. I had heard for so very long that you should never date someone you work with and I let those words control my decisions. But now, I was ready to do things for me. I was ready to forgo all that conventional advice. I knew what I wanted. I had been watching her for so long. I felt the chemistry and happiness between us. I knew her for two years. She was at the end of her relationship and I was not going to let this pass me by. I knew if I hadn't taken my chance then this would've become yet another what if, another regret that I didn't want to live with. So I started flirting, hard. I made her fall deeper for me, feelings that we always knew that there, but were too scared to let be revealed. I pursued something I wanted, purely for me, a declaration of the person I was, a person I was hiding away. She's beside me right now, and there isn't a single doubt that it wasn't the right decision. She's the best thing to happen to me since I have become an adult. I am so very happy I listened to myself. I listened to what my soul wanted. And thats what I have started to do, I have begun to listen to my soul. It always had the answers I just chose to ignore them. Always concerned myself for what was optimal, what was going to give me the most gains, I minmaxed life. Never made me happy. But letting my emotions poke through, emotions that weren't anger or bitterness, that led me to some happiness. 

I do think those years of rigorous work helped to get me there however. I gave myself quite the safety net. It became easier to listen to my heart when the next meal became a guarantee. When  I could consider stuff like fasting for the hell of it instead of fasting because all that was for dinner was air. I don't have to worry so much about the stability of my future because I've professionally secured it with my accolades and experience. And those adults? I have truly forgiven them and love them, I don't carry that resentment anymore, but thats for another long spiel. I have learned to forgive. Truly forgive. Learned to accept. Truly accept. Right now I am the  happiest I have ever been. 

Your Anime Looks Bad - "Overlord"

Overlord really looks like shit. I've been watching a fantasy anime from the early 2000s animated by Studio Bones and the outstanding presentation of that compared to a show made a decade later shows the weakness of Overlord's aesthetic. Overlords biggest issue has always been how it looks. The bland, static, sterile backgrounds, the sharp, grotesque character designs, and the over-saturated color scheme that somehow is unable to come across as vibrant really bogs the show down. In the 2000s fantasy anime Scrapped Princess the backgrounds have a great sense of depth and scale and their softness and painted look creates these inviting landscapes. The characters- while very simple from a design standpoint - are very distinguishable and befitting of the world they inhabit. They aren't jarring and goofy looking. While you can argue that Overlords character look that way because they reflect the mindsets of their otaku creators (Momonga's past companions) and their over the top sensibilities that still doesn't doesn't excuse how poorly they are drawn or the characters outside of the Nazarick tomb.

Wonderfully drawn and composed still from Scrapped Princess

Now Overlord is above and beyond Scrapped Princess in the "fun" department and the fantasy world that Overlord does take place in exists for the sole reason of getting the piss taken out of it. However that doesn't mean that the world needs to be so low effort and ugly. Overlord just looks really cheap and honestly that detracts from the appeal and accessibility of the series. Scrapped Princess constantly shows you evocative images of its fantasy world; the wicker like designs of its rice fields, the college art student-esque monolithic figures in its plains, the varied clothing of its inhabitants from the military, church monks and the main cast themselves. Scrapped Princess understands that in order to gain a viewer's investment in a fantasy world they need to provide them with an interesting unique setting worth exploring.

A pretty poor screenshot from Overlord, showing its cheap presentation

As an anime loving idiot I do wish that people cared more about how it looked. This is a largely visual medium and those visuals are a huge part of the appeal. Even in Overlord if it weren't for the hyper-exaggerated expressions its demented characters make the viewer wouldn't get to anywhere close to the effect the show was going for when portraying their outlandish personalities and that why visuals matter: they help with conveyance. This conveyance is absolutely paramount to driving home a show's message, setting, characters, a lot of things okay.

Look at the scale in this frame, the vastness it conveys, and the mood the color palate is bestowing. Scrapped Princess is full of these moments.

"Small Girl Saves Show" "Romance a Shit"

How do I properly access a show that bases its central plot around a romance with no meaning? The show's romantic elements were never its selling point and the characters are never going to progress in any meaningful way and you can kinda get that just from how its framed. Is it okay for me to get angry at the lack of any romantic progress? Should I allow myself to get angry at the lacking progression? I always find myself watching these romantic comedy anime that I know won't deliver on the goods but goddamn it I can't help but want to see some actual romance happen.

Engaged to the Unidentified is another "It's fine" romcom anime that uses the aforementioned pointless romantic set-up to justify the characters being together and while I'm used to this I'm not okay with it. There's a certain kind of anger arises within me when I see a pair of characters experience romantic tension just for the show to almost immediately return to its comedic tone to tease the viewer. Its not that I even find the romance engaging or that I care if it ever progresses in any manner, Its the fact that the narrative thinks it can have it cake and eat it too that makes me livid.

Engaged to the Unidentified has this hilarious conflict of interest within the confines of it narrative where obviously the plot is set up to be this romance between the Female and Male interest but ends up never focusing on them because they are the story's most uninteresting characters and to focus on them is to make the story a boring slog with no energy.

The only thing that keeps Engaged to the Unidentified from being a pain to watch is its actual main character: the character Mashiro and studios Doga Kobo immaculate ability to produce a consistently pleasant atmosphere with their presentation. If not for these factors this show would of went from a 6/10 to a 3/10.

Shiki - Narratives and Catharsis

Shiki seems like an anime hellbent on the idea of never providing the viewer with a traditional sense of structure and release. A show never with a clear central character, rarely clear on providing answers or motives, a show where its apparent that most characters are heavily meditating on the situation they are in but where you are rarely shown that meditation. A narrative that plays out in an unbelievably drawn out fashion, only to be punctuated with a break neck paced ending once everything unfolds that doesn't include many conclusions or ends tied.

The show very much challenges the viewer on why they continue to watch the narrative unfold. The narrative holds no heroics, very little empathetic characters, the villains motives are never very clear or engaging, and no meaningful relationships are on the line, so why continue watching? The intrigue of the show, for me at least, is this question of why and the study on how people react in times of disaster. When the shit hits the fan in this show, the human characters who before were ruminating on the ethic and moral quandaries of the situation they are in, throw that right out the window and become absolutely brutal when the weight of the decision "us or them" is presented to them. However that comes near the very end of the series and up until that point you are left twiddling your thumbs.

You see its not that the show is slow or paced poorly, no on the contrary it is paced excellently and isn't necessarily slow. The story beats of the anime don't come in at a slow pace rather these beats are presented without huge impact or are very similar to others. The snowball doesn't roll down the hill gathering mass and momentum rather this is more akin to the rock slowly gathering moss until somebody comes along and just decides to destroy the rock. Not something very cathartic or in line with the traditional 3 act narrative but is strangely alluring and engaging in a metatextual sense.

The Argument Lies in the Execution Not the Concept

I recently watched the third season of the anime Overlord. Overlord is an asinine isekai that embodies the idea of power fantasy and "fake it till you make it". The show is great fun because of the great unbelievably unhinged lengths it goes to explores these ideas. Its not enough for the protagonist to be bland and an obvious self-insert - no - hes also super powerful (and every character he comes across is just another pawn to show off his awesome power) and every women ends up creaming themselves in awe of him. The power fantasy it is employing is not hidden in anyway; they're not pretending that there is a worthwhile mono-myth narrative here, everything presented is done to further its power fantasy. This aspect of the show isn't the problem with it - its the selling point. This is why I take great issue with the reviews for the show and its subsequent seasons on MAL. Many of these reviews claim that Overlord is no better than a show like SAO because of its power fantasy nature. These claims are idiotic because they state - in essence - that the concept of the power fantasy is the issue not the execution. SAO's issues are not the result of the concepts and ideas it attempts but how it fails to present those concepts in the context of its narrative. Overlord has a lot of leeway and excuses to make up for any plot contrivances in its narrative because the show doesn't take itself seriously at all and doesn't have anything at stake. SAO does take itself seriously and presents itself as something to be taken seriously. Overlord is goofy. Overlord is stupid, but its stupid fun - which makes all the difference.

I don't know where people got the idea that what a series sets out to do is what determines its quality. The themes and messages something attempts to get across should be irrelevant to one's critique of something. They seem to get the first step of critique down at least - identifying intent - but they forget the - how well do they do it - part which is where the actual critique comes in. Maybe this is why people see AnoHana or Your Lie in April as good shows, because they explore themes they deem as worthwhile.

I don't know.