You Can (Not) Grow Up: 20 Years of Evangelion (Part 1)

Twenty years ago, Neon Genesis Evangelion was introduced to the world. Since its inception, the series has spawned various movies, spinoffs, figures, theme park attractions, underwear, and even buckets. It’s a phenomenon that changed the anime industry and inspired many creators in the process. For those of you who either aren’t anime nerds, born too late, or have lived under a rock for the past twenty years, the series revolves around three teenagers who must pilot giant robots in order to save humanity from creatures called Angels. The series has a modest start, focusing purely on a story of a boy trying to save the world, but grows much deeper as the show goes on.

I haven’t been with the series since day one (I would have been six years old), but I have been a diehard fan for well over a decade now. I originally watched the show at the age of 14, the same age as the protagonist of the series, Shinji Ikari. I was in middle school (as mentioned in one of my other blogs as the worst time in my life), so I would say around the same time I got into the Xenosaga video game series (a blog for another time…). My older sister worked at the public library, so, from time to time, she would check out something for my brother and me. Our anime kick was in full swing around this time, what with Toonami and Adult Swim introducing us to the world. One fateful day, our sister just so happened to check out the Neon Genesis Evangelion boxset for us, changing my life forever.

You might wonder why I am so obsessed with this show. Do I simply like it because of its popularity? For the giant robot action? For the random religious references? To be fair, a few of those questions have a bit of truth to them (except the popular part, since I didn’t know what it was and I didn’t have internet at home until a few years later), but the real reason I love the series so much is because of the characters. From the fiery attitude of Asuka to the immense self-hatred surrounding Shinji, I fell in love with these kids who were the exact same age as me. There were so many characters I related to, and even now I feel myself relating to more of the cast as I grow older. Today I will focus primarily on a single character, but I intend to elaborate on more in future installments. Otherwise, I will write a 20 page essay that will bore the crap out of you.

**Warning: Spoilers ahead!**

In the case of Asuka Langley Sohryu

Asuka, the fiery red head of the series, is a character I was surprised by how much I could relate to her. A part German and Japanese Eva pilot, Asuka is introduced a little later than the other characters of the series. However, her late introduction does nothing to impair her character. She’s sassy, self-confident, and a college graduate at the age of fourteen. She sounds like she has everything going on with her life.

But behind her bravado is a damaged girl looking for acceptance. She wants to prove herself not only on the battlefield but as a human being. Her inferiority complex is only exasperated by Shinji Ikari, who not only defeated an Angel the first time he piloted but also became an overall better pilot than Asuka. Kaji denies her advances, as he is a man much, much older than her, but Asuka still sees herself as this strong adult.

During her childhood, her mother took part in the Evangelion experiments, causing her to go insane. She started to ignore her daughter’s existence, putting all of her love and attention on a doll instead. Before Asuka could prove herself, she walked in on her mother’s suicide. Asuka’s desperate need to be strong, self-sufficient, and the best stem from this very moment.

 

(Probably one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite episodes)

Yeesh, you might say. How do I resonate with such a character? I don’t have a tragic backstory like her nor a flamboyant and strong personality. But I do feel for her.

As a twin, as I’ve mentioned before, I had my fair share of insecurities. In comparison to my brother, I felt inferior, unnecessary. Unlike Asuka, I didn’t strive to prove myself. But, like Asuka, I hid my feelings from everyone. Like her, I was too proud to talk about my feelings or even come to an understanding with the one person that I felt inferior to. I have since overcome these feelings (granted, clarity didn’t come in a giant robot fight against nine other robots ala Asuka), but I will always remember that time in my life. If anything, watching Evangelion at that critical time in middle school made me realize those feelings and deal with them a lot quicker than I would have without it.

To be honest, I didn’t really like Asuka that much when I originally watched the show. I felt she was too cocky, too mean, especially to Shinji. Her relationship with Kaji seemed awkward and sadly one-sided. However, after finishing the show and letting the years pass, I realize how much I sympathized with Asuka. She was like me, a teenager thrown in to the arms of puberty. It’s a confusing and hectic time, and throwing other people into the mix can either help or damage you. At my worst, I hated everyone, the people I went to school with, society, and most of all, myself. Asuka made me realize that other people can feel the same way, but also that it can be overcome.

So, to you, Asuka, you red-haired demon, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for realizing my own insecurities.

To be continued

I'm an Introvert, and That's Okay

As a child, I’ve been told I was quite wild. I was outgoing and joked a lot. I’m not sure what happened to that kid. Maybe my parents are confusing me with some long lost triplet I used to have. Maybe that kid died.

If you remotely know me, you probably have an inkling that I am an introvert. I’ve been an introvert as long as I can remember. I’m the kid who, in sixth grade, almost had a panic attack while reading a story in front of his English class. I was the kid who never liked to raise his hand and ask questions in front of the class; I always waited until after the lesson had ended to ask my questions privately. I was the kid bullies targeted because I wouldn’t talk back.

Being an introvert sometimes means you are susceptible to bullies, or at least I was in middle school. My worst bully once said the reason I didn’t talk to people was because I thought I was better than everyone else, that I didn’t want to stoop to everyone’s level. I never thought that. Heck, in middle school, I felt the exact opposite, my self-hatred making me believe that I was human scum. Bullies only exasperated my angst. I think the real reason I was targeted was because I was seen as meek, easy prey. I was too polite and bashful to stand up for myself, and, at the time, I didn’t have very many friends to help me. Even then, I would have been mortified to ask for assistance. But, still remaining an introvert, I overcame my bully issues in high school; I no longer gave them the satisfaction of demeaning me. The funny thing was, as soon as I stood up for myself, I became invisible to them, like I had outrun the predator to the point where he wasn’t interested anymore. It felt good, empowering even. It was a tough thing to do, so I don’t throw it out there lightly for other introverts to try, but if you do find the courage to stand up to your bully, you won’t regret it.

Another misconception about introverts is that we hate people. I wouldn’t say I hate people (to counter, I wouldn’t say I like everyone either, ex. my bullies, but that’s not the point). College introduced me to a world of student organizations and classes with peers of similar mindsets; suddenly, I became a social butterfly. I may be shy and uncomfortable around people I don’t know, but I enjoy talking with my friends and hanging out. Sometimes hanging out can just be a friend and me sitting in the same room, playing two separate video games than each other and barely talking. Furthermore, I was part of a club in college where we did nothing but sit in a quiet room and watch anime every Sunday night. It’s a refreshing experience, being social and not social at the exact same time. But I also don’t mind throwing a party of some sort every once in a while. I value my alone time a lot more than social interaction, but even I get lonely.

The other day at work, I probably said less than five sentences the entire day, and I loved every single minute of it. I wasn’t being rude to my coworkers. I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t afraid to talk. Being quiet made me feel at peace, an almost state of zen. If I have to talk, I will, and if I want to talk, I will. That’s a difference I’ve realized over the years. At first, I was simply afraid to talk to anyone (I still am, but to a lot less of an extent). Now I choose not to talk out of the comfort that being quiet gives me. It almost sounds like the same thing, doesn’t it? Choice is the key difference.

I know humanity is a social species; it’s part of our process of survival. I don’t see personal bubbles as a way of confining people, but merely a different way of interacting with the world. We don’t have to be friends with everyone we meet as much as we don’t have to be enemies. But those few people who we deem worthy to be our friends respect our comfort zones and help us when we’re in trouble. Likewise, I do the same thing for my friends whenever possible. Introverts aren't complete hermits who shun society and everyone in it. I do see how paranoid and untrusting being introverted might appear, but we don’t let just anyone into our personal bubbles.

Being an introvert isn’t something to be cured (“come out of your shell,” as the saying goes). It isn’t something to be hated. You shouldn’t feel bad for the kid who prefers to sit alone during lunch. We just like to be alone to our thoughts. We like the world within ourselves instead of the noise of the outside world. I used to shun this aspect of myself, but I’ve come to fully embrace it and take comfort from it.

Twins Aren't Creepy or Cute; They're People

I'm on the left. The only way I know is because I loved the red Power Ranger.

I am a twin. 

A fraternal twin, mind you, so don’t get too excited. Being a twin isn’t a big deal, but sometimes people have a strange fascination with them. The spectrum ranges from creepy, like the twins from The Shining, to an outright fetish. In between the spectrum, twins are marvels, illusions with physical forms.

Back in the days of yore, my twin brother and I were walking twin stereotypes: same clothes, same haircut, same room, same initials. Even though we weren’t identical, we looked close enough alike that it didn’t really matter to people. “Oh, look at the twins!” I could hear people exclaim, like we were some kind of zoo exhibit.

Being a twin is a gift and a curse, though it has gotten better the older we have gotten and the farther we get from looking the same. On the one hand, you get this partner in crime who goes through the same development as you at the exact same time. Depending on your relationship with your twin, you are either best buds or mortal enemies. The worst part, well, is the world’s reaction to twins.

Who is older?

Do you have a twin language?

Are you two just alike?

Have you ever switched places with each other?

Which one is the evil one and who is good?

Can you talk to each other telepathically?

I wish I had a twin.

Sure, if you want to be made a spectacle. I think I would have felt better as a twin growing up without people gawking and asking asinine questions.

Sure, there were ways we tried to get around the confusion and awkwardness. In elementary school, my brother and I wore shirts with our respective names stitched on them. During school photos, our parents made us wear the same clothes, but if his hair was sticking up, I’d make sure to flatten mine. During recess, we separated from each other, making our own friends.

These changes increased drastically as we grew older, changing our wardrobe from each other along with our body image. If you look at my brother, he is bald and fit, whereas I am overweight and have hair (though it is thinning at a drastic rate, so I might have to copy him sooner rather than later). At our cores, we are very similar, but, at the same time, quite different.

Something we can’t change (well, we can, but it sounds like a huge hassle) is our names. For parents of twins, triplets, quadruplets, and so on who think it’s cute to give your children rhyming names or names starting with the same letter (or worse, the same name but with a different spelling ex. Jon and John), I have to tell you something: it isn’t cute. It will never be cute. It makes being a twin a little bit more complicated.

For example, my brother and I share names beginning with the letter T. Furthermore, we have the exact same initials. Though we look much different these days, people still stumble over our names. They say they can tell who is who, but, because our names begin with the same letter, they trip over it. Go figure. And I can’t say how often my brother or I have gotten an assignment back in school that was meant for the other brother.

Not only is it demeaning, but it reinforces identity issues. Instead of being individuals, twins are seen as two people who share the same identity. Or worse, perhaps more from a fraternal perspective, one of the twins can develop an inferiority complex, feeling like a failed copy. I’ll admit it; I had those feelings while going through middle school and high school. I felt like my brother was better at everything, had more friends than me, and looked better than me, which only led me to wonder why I even existed.

I remember a certain moment with great clarity. I was in biology class in high school. I was working on an assignment when I overheard two people a few seats behind me talking. I can’t remember the exact topic, but I do remember they were talking about my brother and me.

Boy 1: Which Trosper was it?

Boy 2: Does it matter?

I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t. That tiny bit of dialogue hurt me to my core. Are we not individuals? Twins aren’t clones or emotionless robots. We think our own thoughts, emote our own emotions, and speak with our own voices. Twins are their own people, whether you think of them as the same person or not.

Through it all, my brother and I have had each other’s backs. I know, it’s one cliché of many, but I freely admit my brother is my best friend. Though we are alike, our differences help us get along. We’re adults now, and though we live together for the moment, you never know what will happen one of these days. In all honesty, I am a little afraid to think about life without him. As Gene Belcher from Bob's Burgers would say, we live our lives from the womb to the tomb. Besides, the only problem we have to worry about these days is the weird looks we get after having our IDs checked when we purchase alcohol.

In the end, all I ask is, please, if you have twins, know twins, or hope to one day be in the presence of twins, treat them as the individuals they are and not some kind of magic trick.

Being Passive-Aggressive, or Being a Civilized Dick

There is an evil creature lying deep within my subconscious. It lies in wait for the right opportunity to strike those around me. It is cunning, deceptive, manipulative, and its only weakness is direct confrontation. I’m talking about my passive-aggressive behavior, of course.

If you don’t know what it means to be passive-aggressive, the definition can be found here. Or I’ll be direct and tell you that it means being indirect when expressing negative feelings. You might have experienced this when someone asked you to do something you didn’t want to do. Sure, you can make excuses: “The weather looks bad; I don’t think I can go.” You could completely ignore the request until the last minute, saying, “Sorry, I didn’t look at your text in time.” Or you could be like me and add “I guess” to the end of your sentences, hinting at your unwillingness without saying, “No thanks, I don’t want to do it.” Most of the time, my method ended with me…well, doing something I didn’t want to do.

To be frank, being passive-aggressive is terrible behavior. Many people do it in order to get back at people or unleash their frustration. A classic setting for passive-aggressive behavior, sadly, is within the work environment. Coworkers put on their smiling masks among their peers only to remove them at the water cooler to unleash juicy gossip. People backstab, withhold information in order to sabotage others, give false praise, give the silent treatment, or just hide under the “I’m just kidding” sarcasm shield. It’s a way to let out your anger without going on a homicidal rampage, but it hurts emotionally rather than physically.

Take for example an incident that happened at one of my places of employment. Names have been changed for obvious reasons:

Joe and Jill sat by each other during work and enjoyed discussing their favorite TV shows. There is no rule against talking in the work place, otherwise their work would be rather dull. However, their coworker Betty couldn’t stand hearing them talk. Did it distract her from her own work? Maybe. Did she not like the topics they discussed? Maybe. It’s hard to say. The logical thing would be to ask Joe and Jill to lower their voices or to keep their discussions work appropriate, right? Yes, but in a work environment, that isn’t the case. Betty remained quiet, Joe and Jill oblivious to the irritation they caused.

Later that day, Joe and Jill heard through the grapevine (oh that poisonous grapevine) that Betty had been talking about them behind their backs, wishing they would shut up and do their work. Joe and Jill were, of course, frustrated because even though they talked to each other a lot, they were still hard workers. Furthermore, they wished Betty had been direct with them rather than slandering them and spreading false rumors.

So what happened next? Direct confrontation? An epic battle to end all battles? What happened next was…nothing. Joe and Jill took the hint and spoke less. Betty never admitted anything about her frustration, and Joe and Jill never confronted her about it. The situation was somewhat resolved, but the hostility remained. Anti-climactic, no? It’s pretty much an everyday situation in a work environment, and count yourself lucky if you don’t notice events like this (stay away from the grapevine!).

On a personal level, passive-aggressive behavior to me is trying not to be a dick…and failing miserably at it. In my mind, I have used passive-aggressive behavior in order to avoid upsetting people. The word “no” can be devastating given the right context, and that’s why I would take any other route imaginable in order to avoid the pit trap that is “no.” But even if I think I’m using this behavior in the best interest of a friend or family member, I’m only being selfish and avoiding confrontation. Take for an example a very mundane, passive-aggressive argument I shared with my brother the other day:

Bro: I did half of the dishes, but I couldn’t finish the rest. If you want to, you can do the rest. Or I’ll do them later. Or you can just let the water out and leave them.

Me: Oh, well, maybe. I did have plans, but I guess I could.

Bro: You don’t have to.

Me: Oh, no, it’s cool, if I have time.

Painfully awkward, I know, but it was an amusing example (in hindsight) of passive-aggressive behavior in action. Instead of just asking me to do the dishes directly, my brother went in a roundabout fashion to tell me to do them while giving me a ticket to the guilt trip express. I, on the other hand, said I’d do it but threw my guilt trip ticket right back at him by stating I had plans (I honestly did, no lie, but I shouldn’t have used that as an excuse). Here’s how it should have went down:

Bro: I did half of the dishes, but I couldn’t finish the rest. Do you mind doing the rest when you get home?

Me: No problem.

Quick, painless, and to the point.

I feel as though I use passive-aggressive behavior because I don’t want to burden anyone, but the behavior itself is the actual burden. The behavior burdens the recipient with guilt, shame, anger, and a whole slew of negative emotions. You aren’t making them any happier than if you said “no” instead, and sometimes passive-aggressive behavior comes off as manipulative and underhanded.

In the end, being passive-aggressive is dishonest and really a waste of time. But what should I and countless other people do to destroy the behavior completely? Be honest. If you have good friends and family, they will understand if you don’t want to do something. If they don’t, that’s their problem, right? Problems should be handled directly, even in the work environment, that way they can be handled quickly and efficiently. Don’t be afraid to admit your own faults, but also don’t be afraid to point out that you are right. If you see someone else being passive-aggressive, drag them into the light of confrontation, even if they are kicking and screaming (okay, maybe don’t follow this sentence literally). I'm not advocating rudeness or complete aggression; honest, mature discussion is possible, but you have to start it. There are more good examples of strategies here.

I’m not perfect, though. I’ve been trying to follow this advice, but it’s tough. I don’t want to disappoint people, but I know I upset people more when I act passive-aggressively. It’s like I smoke five packs of cigarettes a day and hope beyond hope that it doesn’t affect my health. Every day is another challenge to be better than the person you were yesterday. Sometimes I’m worse; sometimes I kick that old version of me’s ass.