Ryouko as imagined in Lucky Star.

I'm not entirely sure why I have to try to come up with some sort of theme titling for posts about The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. It's invariably "The Something of Someone", and I am not so creative as to come up with a great many versions (possibly 15,498, or even 15,853) of this. And yet, there is the niggling feeling that this is somehow expected of me.

I picked up the second volume of the Haruhi-chan manga a couple of days ago, possibly in the vague intention of having something concrete and non-transient to remind me of the highly amusing incidents therein. I've not had much time to do anything other than a quick skimming, or indeed much time to do anything. I'd say I'm on the depressive cycle of manic-depression, but since I'm not (formally) diagnosed with such, I won't. It's just plain listlessness.

Haruhi-chan has helped in perking me up a little, and I suspect that it's because if I'm reading it, I'm likely not also reading forums or blogs or such: in other words, I'm not interacting with the fandom. This leaves me free to actually enjoy what I'm doing, rather than having to defend my enjoyment of it from the inevitable complaints, flames, and the other hazards of the Internet.

I have, it appears, gone back to basics.

It's always a pleasure to indulge in my hobbies as hobbies, rather than obligations. I know I'll receive all sorts of comments about Remembering to Do This Blog for Fun, which I'm still not sure how to answer: I tend to want to ramble on about whatever is on my mind at the moment, but this only really works in private. Once I have a public blog, I have to watch what I say, because posting these ramblings count as having published them, and now I have to be able to defend what I say. Invariably, the negative comments will get challenged far more than the positive sort, so I try to remain upbeat.

It's tiring, but it's not a matter of choice: if I say something, I must be able to defend it, or retract it as required. To behave otherwise is to shirk the responsibility I have due to the power of merely having a blog. If I claim to be posting my thoughts, I should be actually doing so; anything else would be at least unintentionally misleading, if not outright dishonest. I don't pretend to have a full grasp on the necessary vocabulary for expressing myself, so misunderstandings are inevitable, but that only means I should try even harder to avoid miscommunication.

I knew this when I started this blog, of course. It's something I've come to accept… which, of course, doesn't mean I don't resent it at times.

But I digress. Reading Haruhi-chan has the bonus of being able to see the miscellaneous illustrations the artist has seen fit to use as space-filler, and these are what reminded me of at least part of my love for MoHS: cute girls.

No, really.

I've never made any secret of my appreciation for the fine female form, presumably since I Do Not Get Any in Real Life. I'm well aware that this is escapist fantasizing, and I would never objectify Real Women like this, entirely because I am fully cognizant of the differences between fiction and reality. (I honestly think I'd gouge my own eyes out before I'd treat Real People in the consequence-free manner I could treat Fictional Characters. Not the consequences for me; the consequences for them.) But I will spend an uncomfortably long time staring at a picture of, say, Ryouko Asakura, divorced from the Truth about her personality as displayed in the canon, and simply admire how good she looks.

The same goes for Emiri Kimidori. It's my side character preferences acting up again, I suspect. This may be why I'm looking forward to new chapters of that Yuki Nagato spin-off manga, which hopefully has more of these characters without the plot portcullis slamming down on any further appearances.

All these characters pale, however, against Sonou Mori, the Organization member disguised as a maid. The illustration on page 37 of the second volume of Haruhi-chan (according to the Taiwanese translation copy, anyway) is a fine example of a sexy, sexy lady.

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