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Watching Your Name, Hetalia: Axis Powers, and Sensōron together brought up a range of reactions for me emotionally, intellectually, and politically. What connects them is how they each deal with memory, whether it is personal, cultural, or national, and how that memory can be preserved, erased, or manipulated.

Your Name stood out the most. As someone who has moved away from where I grew up, I connected with how the film explores the connection between place and identity. It made me reflect on moments I have let fade away, not just people or events, but the feeling of being grounded somewhere. Even though the characters forget each other's names, their emotional connection remains. That idea hit me. Some connections exist beyond memory.

Hetalia was a sharp contrast. It is lighthearted and absurd, but its reliance on national stereotypes felt mixed. Some jokes landed, but others oversimplified complex histories. I have seen firsthand how stereotypes, even when presented as humor, can affect how people view entire cultures. It made me think about how easily we accept simplified versions of reality when they are packaged as comedy.

Sensōron frustrated me the most. It is visually polished and persuasive, but its message is deeply concerning. It denies or downplays real wartime atrocities and reframes Japan as purely a victim. I have studied propaganda before, but seeing it delivered through manga was eye-opening. It reminded me that visual storytelling can be powerful enough to rewrite history, and that is not something unique to Japan. Other countries, including the U.S., have their own ways of dressing up history to avoid accountability.

Together, these three works made me reflect on how anime can do much more than entertain. They shape how we remember our past, define ourselves in the present, and imagine our future. Whether it is a sci-fi romance, a satirical comedy, or a nationalistic narrative, each one challenges us to think critically about the stories we consume and what those stories are trying to tell us.

I just finished my viewings of Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind and Xenoblade Chronicles 2, and I really enjoyed how each of these shows (or cutscenes in Xenoblade) were able to comment on environmentalism and the impact that humans have on the environment. While both take place in a time far in the future where the damage caused by humans to the environment is already so grand and happened so far in the past, these anime are able to comment on our potential futures. As in, they show their audience the grim fate that may await us one day if we continue on our path of ecological destruction.

 Many people view the environment as a tool or resource to be used by humans, and the value of a given ecosystem or environment comes from the value that we as humans can extract from it. Be it logging or drilling for oil, these places are valuable to people because they can extract what is useful to people from them in vast quantities. And over many years of such ideologies, we have arrived at our current time. Where thousands of acres of forest are cut down every day, we lose dozens of species each and every week, and climate change is only ramping up in its impact. The treatment of the environment as something outside of human consideration is so devastating for it that we have arrived at our current situation. And because the ideals of instrumentalism are so ingrained into so many people, trying to open their eyes to the damage they are causing is like trying to teach an old dog a new trick. And I like how Nausicaä was able to comment on this idea, how there are so many who live in opposition to nature. By our stubborn refusal to acknowledge the intrinsic value of our environment, we have led our planet on a march to its destruction. The likes of which, when we do meet our coming fate, will, without a doubt, spell the end of humanity’s reign on our planet.

What’s more, these anime’s brought to attention the fact that many, even when they see that their actions are detrimental to the environment, will still continue to do whatever is in their interests, regardless of the damage. We are so stubborn in our ways and so unwilling to change, especially if it costs any sum of money, that even when the solutions to the environmental problems we face are right in our face, we take no action. Allow me to give a super prevalent example of just this, and that is, how we deal with invasive species. Invasive species are the worst, and a lot of the time, especially when they directly do damage, the best solution is to simply get rid of them. And for things like lionfish and pythons, the mass culling of them is widely supported. As it should be! These species have done so much harm that the only solution is for them to die. However, there is another species that causes so much more harm than either of these, and yet, people are very adamant against it, even though they are so bad for the environment’s health. That is, stray cats, which have caused so much harm all over the world. In fact, cats have been solely responsible for hundreds of species going extinct. They are such a problem, and the harm that they have done has one effective solution, the culling of excess. But, no, people think that this is wrong, and it is that fact that has stopped any meaningful effort to end the harm that these creatures have caused.

To be honest, Neon Genesis Evangelion and The End of Evangelion were more powerful than I had anticipated. I initially believed it to be just another mecha anime with awesome robots and cool battles, but it ended up being a candid examination of loneliness, anxiety, and what it's like to live under continual stress. Fighting yourself is more important than fighting angels.

Shinji's battle with expectations caught my attention the most. Despite its iconic status, the phrase "get in the robot" seems to be a metaphor for real life, where people expect you to do things you're not ready for. This is something that most of us experience, but it also reflects concepts like gaman (endurance) in Japan. It feels similar to the pressure placed on men to "man up," to remain strong and self-sufficient even in the face of adversity. I've definitely felt the weight of the unwritten rule that displaying weakness diminishes one's manhood.

Evangelion's brutal honesty about loneliness is what gives it its power. I was blown away by the Human Instrumentality Project because it raises an important question: would we sacrifice our uniqueness in order to avoid suffering and loneliness? This really resonated with me in this era of social media, where we yearn for connection but are afraid of showing our vulnerability. Evangelion depicts the extreme form of this: merging into one entity to avoid the agony of separation. We present edited versions of ourselves because being authentic feels dangerous.

The last scene on the beach comes next. I was uneasy when Shinji started crying and Asuka said "kimochi warui," which means "disgusting," but I believe that was the intended effect. There is only the messy reality of attempting to connect with someone else without losing yourself; there is no happy ending. It's human, uncomfortable, and awkward.

In my opinion, Evangelion is about what it's like to live when the roles you're assigned don't match who you are, not just about robots or rescuing the world. It got me to thinking about the expectations I've encountered and how difficult it can be to follow your own path when society expects you to be someone else.

There is something electric every time when I walk into a convention and get to experience a sea of fans. The air immediately feels with excitement and knowing we are all here with a shared passion. I hav been to numerous conventions over the years, both big and small, and every time I go, I continue to be reminded why these types of fan gatherings are such an amazing and vital part of fandom. These can feel like more than an event, they can feel like a living expression of pop culture that has a deep connection with a lot of people.

The atmosphere is the greatest. It's this incredible mix of creativity, chaos, and community. You can walk by someone that has this amazing super accurate and crazy detailed cosplay outfit as you walk down an aisle that has a booth featuring hand made art that reimagines one of your favorite characters in some new wild way. I just saw some footage of someone at a con wearing a giant Galactus costume. It was towering above the crowd, had parts that were lit up, and people were amazing as it walked by. It was felt like a page came to life right out of the Fantastic Four comic by Kirby and Lee. That kind of dedication is exactly why I love the con scene as it showcases fan productivity at its finest and it shows how fans take ownership of the stories they love.

By far, cons have provided one of the most meaningful moments in my life when I got to meet Stan Lee. Stan Lee is a cultural icon, a creative forces, and a personal hero. His work, along with Jake Kirby, helped shape the modern mythology I grew up on. I have always admired how created characters that were flawed, human, and real. Peter Parker aka Spider-Man is a great example of that and someone I relate to. Meeting Stan Lee was something I had always dreamed of and I finally got the chance when he came to a con near my home town. I had him sign my copy of Spider-Man #43. One of the few times I was starstruck, but Stan Lee was kind, warm, and appreciative of my admiration. It was a quick moment, but one that meant the world and now feel like I have hold a magical piece of comic history.

Cons bring much more than stars and merchandise. I have met some incredible fans that are filled with passion. I've made friendships and been able to have great conversations about everything from Spider-Man to Star Wars to Ted Lasso and much more. I look forward to always seeing my comic book guy. He continues to find a way to share some sage advice about marriage, life, and love while he recommend comics and graphic novels to add to my collection. That human connection is a big part of what makes these event special.

Now, my daughter is getting into the con scene and that's an amazing new layer that has been added to the experience. She is a huge fan of the show Miraculous Ladybug and is excited to meet the voice actress at the upcoming Tampa Bay Comic Con. Watching her dive into this world that I have loved for a long time is pretty cool. She loves seeing the fan art and enjoys all the spectacles these event bring. I think she appreciates that spaces like this exist that allows everyone to explore who they are and who they want to be while engaging with the fandom.

In class, we've talked about how postmodern culture blurs the line between consumer and greater. Cons are the perfect embodiment of that. Fans aren't just passively watching, they are remixing, reimagining, and recreating at these events. These cons are hubs of cultural expression where identities are formed, challenged, and celebrated.

I came into this week expecting nostalgia, office satire, and quiet teen drama. What I noticed instead was how each title maps the pressure of performing a self, in Japan and everywhere.

Sailor Moon hits first. The glitter, the compact, the tiara. It reads as play, but it is also training. If “girl power” is a reclamation, it still runs through an expectation machine that tells you what a heroine should look like. The Sailor Moon and Girl Power lecture helped me see that flip in value, cute objects turned into tools. But it also made me ask who benefits when femininity is polished into something marketable. Globally, that pattern feels familiar. TikTok aesthetics, pink-coded tech, empowerment that comes with a product barcode.

Aggretsuko felt closest to life. I have worked front line sales, and the smile is armor. Retsuko’s rage metal is funny because it is true. The Aggretsuko and Gender Performance lecture sharpened the idea that “good woman at work” is a script. You do the tone, the nod, the tea. Japan’s seniority systems and after-hours etiquette make the bind very visible, but the bind is not uniquely Japanese. I have swallowed the same “be pleasant, be small” in customer chats to keep the sale alive.

Wandering Son was the one that stayed with me after I closed the laptop. Uniforms, classrooms, the long walk home. The Wandering Son and Transgenderism lecture made me rewatch tiny gestures, how acceptance appears in a stranger’s effortless response, and policing appears in a sibling’s quick disgust. That tension is everywhere. Bathrooms, sports, paperwork. The stakes are not abstract when a hallway is hostile.

Butler’s “Performative Acts and Gender Constitution” gave me language for why these shows feel so precise. Gender is not a secret essence, it is repetition under pressure. When the repetition changes, reality changes. That helps me make sense of Sailor Moon’s sparkle, Retsuko’s scream, and Nitori’s careful hello.

Finally, “Young Females as Super Heroes” pushed me to weigh spectacle against agency. If young heroines sell possibility, they can also sell limits. I left wanting more roles where power is not tied to prettiness, or politeness, or suffering made cute. I want scripts that leave real room to breathe.

Genshiken was funny and surprisingly thought-provoking to watch. It initially seems to be a humorous slice-of-life anime about an otaku-focused college club. However, as the episodes went on, I came to understand that it was providing a nuanced commentary on issues that are relevant well beyond Japan, such as identity, belonging, and the conflict between mainstream society and subcultures.

The way the series depicts the quest for community really got my attention. Sasahara's hesitancy and awkwardness made me think of other occasions when I joined new groups and was anxious about blending in. Finding a place where his interests are valued makes him feel a universal sense of relief. It got me to thinking about how everyone looks for settings where their passions are not only accepted but also honored. Even if it is based on something as specialized as manga or anime, that sense of community is incredibly human.

Genshiken discusses the stigma associated with fandom on a more general level. Being called "otaku" has negative connotations in Japan, where it is associated with being immature, antisocial, and obsessed. Similar dynamics can be observed worldwide in K-pop fans, comic book fans, and gamers. The conflict between "serious" and "pop" cultural capital persists, despite the fact that nerd culture has gained popularity in some regions. As I watched the club members argue over the specifics of the series and show off their collections, I was reminded of Fiske's article's idea of the shadow cultural economy. In their communities, fans establish their own hierarchies, values, and currencies of status, even though they might not acquire prestige in the "real world."

For my part, I could identify with the fervor of those conversations. Although I'm not an otaku, I have experienced a similar level of passion for sports, music, and even some academic subjects. I was reminded of conversations I've had where strangers become friends because of common interests when I saw how fan talk creates bonds.

The way the show handled gender was another thing that caught my attention. What constitutes "normal" interests for men and women is hinted at by Kasukabe's uneasiness with the group. This conflict reflects more general discussions about gender roles and subcultures in the modern era.

In the end, Genshiken is about identity, marginality, and the human need for community, it's not just about anime fans. It made me think about how modern digital fandoms work much like the Genshiken club did, establishing international forums for creation, sharing, and criticism.

Naruto, Wolf Children, and A Silent Voice seem to share the common theme of being isolated and misunderstood while not giving up on trying to find your place in this world.

In many ways, the theme of Naruto reminded me of similar themes with The Joker movie. Both characters are outcasts, rejected by society, and born into pain. They are thrown aside by society. Obviously, these two characters take different routes in the world. The Joker descends into chaos and chooses to lash out causing destruction in his path. Naruto chooses the path of protecting others leading toward the road of empathy and hope. Both character reach a moral fork in the road, as neither feel accepting in their society. However the choices Naruto makes allow his character to ascend to an inspiring figure for the right reasons, as he chooses light over darkness, unlike the Joker who chooses the opposite.

Wolf Children resonated with me in a couple ways. First, I am a parent of two kids. One girl and one boy, similar to the story. True, neither of my children are part wolf, but the dedication the mom has toward giving her children the best life and choices is where I feel similar. I am here to guide my kids and I always want the best for them, but eventually they will choose their path in this world. This movie also reminded me of Edward Scissorhands. Someone that is put into a world, due to circumstances out of their control, where they don't quite fit in. Sadly, Edward's creator passes away, same as the children, which would have been the best guide for them. So, they are given love and support through other methods that ultimately guide them toward their final decisions of where they fit into society.

Lastly, there is A Silent Voice. I found the title quite fiting as it works on multiple levels. There is the literal silent voice that lies in the main character being deaf. However, there is also the silent voice we all might experience of dealing with inner pain. In this case, it deals with consequences with choices we make centered around bullying. Which leads to characters having guilt and depression that can be just as isolating.

Once again I wrote my blog post before watching the lecture (keeps my thoughts original and fresh IMO), so apologies if it is too similar!(=ↀωↀ=)

This anime initially bored me, and I didn't want to finish the last four episodes assigned for this module. However, I ended up enjoying them. It was an exciting idea to explore, especially given the knowledge that technologies like Psycho-Pass already exist, as seen in the technology used in the Machine Bias reading and the SpotterEDU app mentioned in the Washington Post article. It wouldn't be far-fetched for something like the Sibyl system to exist in real life, with how fast our technology is advancing. The anime effectively highlights how technology, when used for good intentions, can be counterproductive and lead to injustices within the established system. Akane represents those who want to change the system, but unquestioningly trust their authoritative figures too much to act against it. In contrast, Makishima went to great lengths to defy the system, going so far as to use violence to make a point. There are countless Akane's in the world, but not many Makishima's, which is why our government and many around the world stay the same. I can see myself in Akane, but there were many times while watching where I felt frustrated with her character because she trusted too easily, which is where I relate to Makishima. A society where no one questions law enforcement and unquestioningly trusts is a scary one, because it discourages free thinking and can keep many people living in fear. This anime depicted a panoptimistic world, or perhaps a country, and highlighted the flaws inherent in that idea. I disagree with that type of punishment, but I can see why someone who enforces it sees the positives to the idea.

I liked the later episodes more than the early ones, so I might keep watching because I am curious to see what happens to Makishima next and if their society will get to see the Sibyl system for what it is. ^.ᆽ.^= ∫