Looking back
Unintentionally, I seem to be revisiting my childhood interests more recently. The thought struck me when I decided to read the book “Diary ni Ella: Confessions ng Isang Masahista” again this weekend.
I’ve had the book since its release in 2008, exactly ten years ago, and I remember having quite a difficult time looking for it in book stores. One can’t simply miss the book cover, though: it was in hot pink and black, with an image of a hubadera Barbie doll. The theme was definitely for adults, but I was intent on buying it even if I was only 15 at the time.
It was the book of Ella Ganda, a blogger I’ve known during those years. The content, lifted from her old blog, tells of her story as Number 88, a masseuse that offers a “special” service in massage spas. I bought the book primarily in support of Ella, whose blog I’ve been following then.
During those years, blogs were nearly as sacred as the diary one hides under a pillow. Blog posts weren’t sponsored; the website itself was rarely monetized, if at all. Photos weren’t curated the way Instagram feeds now appear. Headlines and tags didn’t care about SEO. There was no categorization between lifestyle, travel, beauty, tech, food, or any other type of blog contrary to what we know now.
Bloggers only did what they did to share a piece of their lives, eventually forming a community of friends fully accepting of whoever one is.
It’s far from the online community we now build for the sake of branding, one that decides influence based on the number of followers or likes. Then, engagement was more personal: the blog author and his or her readers (who were almost always bloggers themselves) would set a meet-up, talk, and do fun things together. What we call engagement now is defined by the reach of a post, by how many views and shares and comments and replies to comments it has.
I miss the good ol’ days of blogging, back when it wasn’t mainstream. It was more sincere and honest. There were no holds barred, just like Ella’s book.
I distinctly remember telling Ella, through the comments section in her blog, that I’ve read her book and I liked it. She expressed, jokingly, her concern because the book had some discussions about okra, talong, and itlog, which a 15-year-old may be too young to understand. Honestly, I didn’t understand what it all meant at the time. There are some important details that only made sense to me after I re-read the book ten years later, such as why Ella was called Number 88 and why her colleagues had numbers as nicknames, too.
This book definitely isn’t something that would fall under the Pinoy Classics category, alongside the works of Nick Joaquin or F. Sionil Jose, but, as I did then, I appreciate how Ella’s sharp writing juxtaposed humor with the seriousness of her circumstances. The book, as was her now-defunct blog, is unpretentious.
To be honest, though, I managed to re-read and finish Ella’s book this weekend only because I had a faulty internet connection and couldn’t binge-watch Rurouni Kenshin, an anime released in 1996. That was more than two decades ago.
I am glad to have found the series available on Netflix because I never really had the opportunity to finish it back when I was a child. I faintly remember some parts of the story, but I recall that I liked what was more popularly known as Samurai X then because of its strong-willed female lead character Kaoru Kamiya.
When I began watching the anime this time, I just couldn’t stop. I even deleted all my unwatched downloaded Friends episodes so I could make space for the Rurouni Kenshin ones. (I prefer offline viewing than streaming on Netflix.)
Episode after episode, as the storyline progresses and further explores the history of Hitokiri Battousai, the sword-drawing manslayer, I couldn’t help but be in awe of the entire series.
Rurouni Kenshin was anchored on Japanese history so much that not only are its characters loosely based on real-life people but also some events shown in the series actually happened in reality.
I must admit I do not know much about the history of Japan, but my fascination with Rurouni Kenshin drove me to do some research. One interesting instance that proves the anime’s “historical accuracy” is the circumstances surrounding the death of Toshimichi Okubo, one of the most powerful men in the government at the time.
Additional reading: History in Rurouni Kenshin
I admire how the series was grounded on reality that even supernatural occurrences that are embellishments to the story and obviously fictional get a logical explanation, such as how Shishio Makoto’s sword “shoots out” fire: its blade has collected fuel (i.e. human oils) from people he has slain that friction alone can cause flame.
As well, every character has an intricate backstory. No one was doing something bad just because he or she is evil. The writer was aware that life is neither one-dimensional nor simplistic and chose to highlight the ideals and philosophy that motivate a character’s actions instead, regardless if this character is an enemy or a protagonist.
I particularly love how the character of Sojiro Seta developed. He was initially portrayed as an emotionless man who believes that the world operates on a natural “survival of the fittest” law. It was later revealed that he had a traumatic childhood and was forced to repress his emotions as a child to avoid his relatives’ beating or to manage their spite. His belief that only the strongest lives stemmed from Shishio’s crooked ideology, which saved him from death. His battle with Kenshin Himura was intelligently done especially because of the two characters’ contrasting moral principles. Kenshin lives by the ideal of using the sword to protect people, and this deeply troubles Sojiro because he was never protected by anyone when he was weak.
The internal moral dilemma is not ignored. Set 11 years since the Meiji revolution, Rurouni Kenshin explores the confusion that comes with systemic change. The fearless Sanosuke Sagara, for instance, would become superstitious and scared whenever he rides a steam train — that, in the series, was still a young technology brought by Western influences.
Of course, I cannot not discuss how the depth of Kenshin’s past, which is the primary motivation for his atonement and the backbone of the entire story, is ingenious. For someone reputed for being the “strongest” during the revolution, an invincible killer, being a peaceful wanderer who protects the sanctity of life is a 180-degree turn.
The live action adaptation, which I also watched this week, masterfully presented the gravity of Kenshin’s vow to never kill again. What the anime lacked in showing the turmoil that lies deep within Kenshin, the films successfully portrayed. The acting and direction was not over-the-top; in fact, it was in the subtlety of non-verbal cues where we find the trilogy’s strong points. It is also worth mentioning that the superb stunts were done by the actors themselves; there were no special effects and CGI.
Old souls rebel against or just go with the flow of the new era. Some are punished, while others repent. Some sell out their principles for power, while others use their power to uphold their principles. This is the most common conflict in the whole storyworld of Rurouni Kensin.
There was also diligence in showing the characters’ relationships with one another. Viewers are left to speculate the real score between Kenshin and Kaoru. We know that they deeply care for each other, but is this enough to ignite romance or will they stay as mere friends? To deliver details without outright telling the point of a story, making viewers infer on their own, that any outcome is reasonable and, thus, believable — this requires so much control.
The OVA Trust and Betrayal is also a work of art. The contrast of peace and bloodshed were creatively set together. Silence, or lack of dialogue, only strengthened the tension of the times.
Beyond the magnificence of the storytelling though, what ultimately got me hooked to Rurouni Kenshin is no other than the lead character himself.
Weeks ago, before I even knew this anime was on Netflix, I was ruminating about the kind of person I honestly want to be. I wrote the following, unedited:
When I unintentionally read what I’ve written — this very description of my “ideal” self — an hour before I began writing this post, I had only one thought: That’s exactly how Kenshin is.
Kenshin seems to almost always be mindful. He takes pleasure in even the drudgery of doing household chores, such as buying tofu and doing the laundry (which I hate). When asked for advice, he does not preach — he inspires. When praised for his abilities or even feared due to his reputation, he remains modest, not feeling the need to prove himself to anyone.
Before I even knew it, apparently, I’ve wanted to be like him.
Perhaps this is why I’ve been pensive lately, subconsciously looking back into my life and making sense of the things I liked and why I liked them. This may be my past trying to connect to my present and, consequently, my future.
It’s true: I may be trying so hard to derive meaning from small, mundane circumstances such as this, but I see this as the Universe’s way of directing me to the path I should be taking, to the kind of Cherry I better be.
So I just keep wandering. •
(Mood song: Naoki Sato’s Hiten, from the official soundtrack of the Rurouni Kenshin movie adaptation.)
I’ve had the book since its release in 2008, exactly ten years ago, and I remember having quite a difficult time looking for it in book stores. One can’t simply miss the book cover, though: it was in hot pink and black, with an image of a hubadera Barbie doll. The theme was definitely for adults, but I was intent on buying it even if I was only 15 at the time.
It was the book of Ella Ganda, a blogger I’ve known during those years. The content, lifted from her old blog, tells of her story as Number 88, a masseuse that offers a “special” service in massage spas. I bought the book primarily in support of Ella, whose blog I’ve been following then.
During those years, blogs were nearly as sacred as the diary one hides under a pillow. Blog posts weren’t sponsored; the website itself was rarely monetized, if at all. Photos weren’t curated the way Instagram feeds now appear. Headlines and tags didn’t care about SEO. There was no categorization between lifestyle, travel, beauty, tech, food, or any other type of blog contrary to what we know now.
Bloggers only did what they did to share a piece of their lives, eventually forming a community of friends fully accepting of whoever one is.
It’s far from the online community we now build for the sake of branding, one that decides influence based on the number of followers or likes. Then, engagement was more personal: the blog author and his or her readers (who were almost always bloggers themselves) would set a meet-up, talk, and do fun things together. What we call engagement now is defined by the reach of a post, by how many views and shares and comments and replies to comments it has.
I miss the good ol’ days of blogging, back when it wasn’t mainstream. It was more sincere and honest. There were no holds barred, just like Ella’s book.
I distinctly remember telling Ella, through the comments section in her blog, that I’ve read her book and I liked it. She expressed, jokingly, her concern because the book had some discussions about okra, talong, and itlog, which a 15-year-old may be too young to understand. Honestly, I didn’t understand what it all meant at the time. There are some important details that only made sense to me after I re-read the book ten years later, such as why Ella was called Number 88 and why her colleagues had numbers as nicknames, too.
This book definitely isn’t something that would fall under the Pinoy Classics category, alongside the works of Nick Joaquin or F. Sionil Jose, but, as I did then, I appreciate how Ella’s sharp writing juxtaposed humor with the seriousness of her circumstances. The book, as was her now-defunct blog, is unpretentious.
To be honest, though, I managed to re-read and finish Ella’s book this weekend only because I had a faulty internet connection and couldn’t binge-watch Rurouni Kenshin, an anime released in 1996. That was more than two decades ago.
I am glad to have found the series available on Netflix because I never really had the opportunity to finish it back when I was a child. I faintly remember some parts of the story, but I recall that I liked what was more popularly known as Samurai X then because of its strong-willed female lead character Kaoru Kamiya.
When I began watching the anime this time, I just couldn’t stop. I even deleted all my unwatched downloaded Friends episodes so I could make space for the Rurouni Kenshin ones. (I prefer offline viewing than streaming on Netflix.)
Episode after episode, as the storyline progresses and further explores the history of Hitokiri Battousai, the sword-drawing manslayer, I couldn’t help but be in awe of the entire series.
Rurouni Kenshin was anchored on Japanese history so much that not only are its characters loosely based on real-life people but also some events shown in the series actually happened in reality.
I must admit I do not know much about the history of Japan, but my fascination with Rurouni Kenshin drove me to do some research. One interesting instance that proves the anime’s “historical accuracy” is the circumstances surrounding the death of Toshimichi Okubo, one of the most powerful men in the government at the time.
There is also the inclusion of Okubo Toshimichi, one of the main imperialists during the revolution and after the restoration, one of the most powerful men in Japan. Even here with a character that only shown a few minutes in a couple of episodes, X hits a high point. Okubo was murdered on his way to Tokyo on May 14, 1878 by 6 clansmen. In X, on the exact same day Okubo is traveling to Tokyo to meet Kenshin. He is murdered in his carriage by one of Kenshin’s enemies. The 6 clansmen then stop his carriage find his body, and stab it several times to take the credit for his death.
— “An appreciation of Rurouni Kenshin,” Professor Acksman
Additional reading: History in Rurouni Kenshin
I admire how the series was grounded on reality that even supernatural occurrences that are embellishments to the story and obviously fictional get a logical explanation, such as how Shishio Makoto’s sword “shoots out” fire: its blade has collected fuel (i.e. human oils) from people he has slain that friction alone can cause flame.
As well, every character has an intricate backstory. No one was doing something bad just because he or she is evil. The writer was aware that life is neither one-dimensional nor simplistic and chose to highlight the ideals and philosophy that motivate a character’s actions instead, regardless if this character is an enemy or a protagonist.
I particularly love how the character of Sojiro Seta developed. He was initially portrayed as an emotionless man who believes that the world operates on a natural “survival of the fittest” law. It was later revealed that he had a traumatic childhood and was forced to repress his emotions as a child to avoid his relatives’ beating or to manage their spite. His belief that only the strongest lives stemmed from Shishio’s crooked ideology, which saved him from death. His battle with Kenshin Himura was intelligently done especially because of the two characters’ contrasting moral principles. Kenshin lives by the ideal of using the sword to protect people, and this deeply troubles Sojiro because he was never protected by anyone when he was weak.
The internal moral dilemma is not ignored. Set 11 years since the Meiji revolution, Rurouni Kenshin explores the confusion that comes with systemic change. The fearless Sanosuke Sagara, for instance, would become superstitious and scared whenever he rides a steam train — that, in the series, was still a young technology brought by Western influences.
Of course, I cannot not discuss how the depth of Kenshin’s past, which is the primary motivation for his atonement and the backbone of the entire story, is ingenious. For someone reputed for being the “strongest” during the revolution, an invincible killer, being a peaceful wanderer who protects the sanctity of life is a 180-degree turn.
The live action adaptation, which I also watched this week, masterfully presented the gravity of Kenshin’s vow to never kill again. What the anime lacked in showing the turmoil that lies deep within Kenshin, the films successfully portrayed. The acting and direction was not over-the-top; in fact, it was in the subtlety of non-verbal cues where we find the trilogy’s strong points. It is also worth mentioning that the superb stunts were done by the actors themselves; there were no special effects and CGI.
Old souls rebel against or just go with the flow of the new era. Some are punished, while others repent. Some sell out their principles for power, while others use their power to uphold their principles. This is the most common conflict in the whole storyworld of Rurouni Kensin.
There was also diligence in showing the characters’ relationships with one another. Viewers are left to speculate the real score between Kenshin and Kaoru. We know that they deeply care for each other, but is this enough to ignite romance or will they stay as mere friends? To deliver details without outright telling the point of a story, making viewers infer on their own, that any outcome is reasonable and, thus, believable — this requires so much control.
The OVA Trust and Betrayal is also a work of art. The contrast of peace and bloodshed were creatively set together. Silence, or lack of dialogue, only strengthened the tension of the times.
Beyond the magnificence of the storytelling though, what ultimately got me hooked to Rurouni Kenshin is no other than the lead character himself.
Weeks ago, before I even knew this anime was on Netflix, I was ruminating about the kind of person I honestly want to be. I wrote the following, unedited:
The adult I want to become:
Calm, inner peace, lives in the present, no hate, fills the world with love, ray of sunshine when you meet them
When I unintentionally read what I’ve written — this very description of my “ideal” self — an hour before I began writing this post, I had only one thought: That’s exactly how Kenshin is.
Kenshin seems to almost always be mindful. He takes pleasure in even the drudgery of doing household chores, such as buying tofu and doing the laundry (which I hate). When asked for advice, he does not preach — he inspires. When praised for his abilities or even feared due to his reputation, he remains modest, not feeling the need to prove himself to anyone.
Before I even knew it, apparently, I’ve wanted to be like him.
Perhaps this is why I’ve been pensive lately, subconsciously looking back into my life and making sense of the things I liked and why I liked them. This may be my past trying to connect to my present and, consequently, my future.
It’s true: I may be trying so hard to derive meaning from small, mundane circumstances such as this, but I see this as the Universe’s way of directing me to the path I should be taking, to the kind of Cherry I better be.
So I just keep wandering. •
(Mood song: Naoki Sato’s Hiten, from the official soundtrack of the Rurouni Kenshin movie adaptation.)