↩[LWC 56]

Yuno-chii’s random thoughts can seem vaguely familiar to the casual viewer – we, the perilous boredom of class or time in between classes, find our thoughts wandering, observing plants rooted in concrete, wondering how they got there, thinking up various solutions to the question at hand. But just as the ideas so capriciously enter our into our meaningless, nomadic deliberations they get pushed back, dissipated for some greater, exigent issue – how homework was forgotten, lunchboxes unprepared, or simply how you shouldn’t be thinking about that random stuff. I enjoy how those meandering, daydreamish thoughts are so very elusive in themselves. You don’t really even notice yourself thinking about the thoughts until you realize you’re daydreaming, then all the enjoyment is lost, you wake up, there’s a sudden surge of adrenaline, an introspective feeling; “what was I doing?” – but then to the next platform above; “why was I doing that?” – and before you know it, you’ve come full circle and begin to think about something totally random once again.

Maybe that’s like the first half of the episode infiltrated by the cat? Fall back to our “you never knew it ‘till you lost it” adage (or what variation have you), but then again, Miyako probably is the most mature character of our quartet of artists as opposed to Hiro’s phobic reactions to hyper-intensified cat snoring. Seems like Miyako is always willing to relocate her vision to the future, hoping that she’ll meet the fat but subtly mysterious shadow of the cat. In the anime I’ve seen, at times the case revolves around the cat being this symbolic thing of coming and returning – without a home, but everywhere as its home. The point to take at heart isn’t whether or not the cat will return (as it probably won’t, given Hiro’s “third day” law) but whether or not the cat made any worthwhile impression on you. I guess that’s usually the case, since if you didn’t want the cat you’d just throw it out immediately, although it seems Hiro didn’t have the audacity to confront Miyako about the abominable snoring?

Random thoughts and wandering cats can inevitably lead to meta-blogging – well, everything on the internet will eventually lead to meta-blogging. I like this “two paragraphs for every picture” rule of thumb TheBigN has [un]intentionally(?) established since it does set forth a definite amount of writing per pause or break in thought by the image. Are limitations good? I don’t think that’s always the case, but protruding into the area of freedom, is that too an inherently good thing? Well, there’s context to consider, and consideration to contextualize within the usage of freedom in relation to, say, sketching, blogging, or even meta-blogging. I wouldn’t say there’s ever a strict case of freedom, and that very oxymoronic use of the word would slightly suggest that the thing is relatively impossible in itself. As Yuno-chii sketches, the omniprescent clock has to take root of the sonority of the entire visual, keeping stern watch over her (it’s, like, looking right at her!). Time is always there – “time waits for no one” – so it’s probably a good thing to have deadlines, definite breaks that micromanage tasks and help with planning and so forth, lest we wait until the very, very last minute to cram.

As for spacing, this twenty minute segment threw me off as there were actually two parts to it – so it was only one episode? – or does it count as two? Probably just one, although we’re usually graced with Yuno-chii’s standard bubble bath, but were entertained by Miyako’s. On that similar note, the end of the first part took place between March 16^th to the 23^rd, while the second one ended in late October. The dating of each episode, call it an “entry” if that’s what you want, kind of turns the title – Hidamari Sketch – into a sort of double entendre, if you will. As if each episode in itself were a sketch of sorts, an organic, moving picture, an imaginative “Hidamari” being the author of each journal entry. Hidamari Sketch, perhaps, but also a sketch of the events of the Hidamari apartments. The audience then being the secret eavesdropper, the one knowing that they shouldn’t be looking at whatever it is they’re looking at, but it’s too delightfully fun to look away or think otherwise. To a slight degree, that can summarize one aspect of why we watch Hidamari Sketch (because it’s fun) or why we [I] watch anime in general?

We’ll at one point or another come across a photographing bystander or someone with a video camera recording their obligatory family vacation, and have to duck and cover as to not dilute the pure family value of their soon-to-be-albumized records, or just run straight through and yell our apologies behind our backs as we sprint in the opposite direction. I guess in Yuno-chii’s case, however, the camera swung to her direction upon chance itself. Having to deal with the guilt of ruining that art (it wasn’t on anyway) Yuno-chii takes the “duck and cover” method – quite literally at that – resplendent with glorious knee-cracking-porn (not a pun, you dirty, dirty thing). Taking Kishi’s advice, however, we notice that (as well as Yuno-chii) opportunity is not a self-directive thing. It’s not entirely a thing you must seek, not entirely to be followed through in the “if you build it, they will come” now-American-maxim. You can, as Kishi puts it, run into opportunity everywhere, and therefore come to realize that opportunity is everywhere – the thing lies in the place – and that everywhere there is opportunity – the place contains the thing, not that there’s much of a stark difference there anyway.

The end of the episode pleases us with a drawing Yuno-chii. Like the remaining trio of artists, we, the viewers, are left to wonder just what she’s drawing. This time we’re not allowed to protrude into the depths of her imagination, we’re just left to, well, imagine her imagination? It puts emphasis on the process, distracting us – or forcibly teasing us – with the prospect of the glossy, finalized product. Maybe that way the end result is more like the icing on the cake, and the continuity of progression measured in pencil shavings and duration of sighs and stretches is the meat of the cake.