When I promised my wife that I would grow my hair out to Thor length if I was ever allowed to work from home full-time, I was not expecting it to become a tangible reminder of how long I've been weathering a global pandemic. It's been over a year since my office made all its employees fully remote due to COVID concerns, and therefore over a year since my wife and I entered a state of voluntary lockdown to help keep the virus from spreading.

For the sake of future historians, anyone curious about my personal life, and anyone interested in comparing and contrasting their own personal experiences during this extraordinary time, here are some stories and observations about what it's been like to live as a shut-in this past year.

Incidentally, I look less like Thor and more like Grizzly Adams. Part of the reason I've opted to maintain the mountain man look, despite how much I truly hate its logistical and hygienic consequences, is that it makes me more physically intimidating to strangers in public. Social distancing is easier when people naturally want to stay at least six feet away from me. Grrr.

I take social distancing seriously because my wife and I got horrifically sick in March 2020. We experienced 10 of the 11 COVID symptoms that are now listed on the CDC website—and given that I've developed a ringing in my ears and that sour cream has started tasting weird to me in the months since then, I have to believe it was COVID.

We were never tested, however. That would have required exposing ourselves to other people for the sake of being told with partial certainty whether we had a virus that nobody actually knew how to treat. Better just to stay home and get the best care we could via telemedicine. And let me tell you, the two doctors I spoke with were fantastic, and I admired their ability to stay energized and attentive when being bombarded with calls like mine.

At the peak of my illness, I couldn't breathe while lying down, so I slept—or at least tried to, between coughing fits—in the reclining chair in the living room. Simply getting in and out of the chair required all the energy I could muster. Yogurt and pudding were about the only foods my throat could handle. I got a headache from looking at screens or basically having my eyes open at all. I'll spare you the gross details about the symptoms that ruined our favorite beach towel. About the only thing I was able to do was exist, and even that was a challenge. I was in pain, I was exhausted...and I was bored.

Fortunately, my mother is a children's librarian. She started reading to me on a regular basis over the phone, and for that I am so very grateful. I could scarcely do anything else, but I could listen to a chapter or two of Mike Rowe's The Way I Heard It every day. I also listened through my first audio book, Break Shot: My First 21 Years by James Taylor, my favorite music artist. Engaging stuff, and tremendously helpful for keeping my mind off being miserable.

It's funny; when I think about being sick, the first thing I remember is the happiness of people reading to me.

My wife and I took care of each other as best we could, but we were both sick, with my wife's symptom progression being about a day or two ahead of mine. The advice I've given to people who have tested positive for COVID or who think they've gotten it is as follows: Let your past self take care of your future self. While you're still feeling healthy, do everything right now that needs to get done—pay bills, write e-mails, whatever. Do all the laundry, dishes, and cooking you can, and try to save some leftovers. Make sure you've got medicine on hand for everything you can think of. Ask someone you know to drop off a care package with any essentials you can't go out and get. Plan to be incapacitated for the next two weeks; be pleasantly surprised if you're not.

Our bout with Pretty Definitely COVID occurred around the same time as the temporary closure of my office and the start of our self-isolation, both of which are still in effect. On the surface, my life hasn't changed dramatically from the Before Times (as my friends like to call it). I was already working from home twice a week, spending most of my free time indoors staring at a screen, and generally not going places or seeing people unless there was a compelling reason to give up my introvert time. Indeed, I've been handling self-isolation a lot better than most other people I know, to the point where I sometimes feel guilty that my worst breakdowns are just a regular day for everyone else.

To be clear, here's exactly what I mean by self-isolation: Staying inside the house at all times except for essential excursions (eg, checking the mailbox every few days, running to the grocery store every 1-3 weeks) or nonessential excursions where the boost to mental health outweighs the physical risk (eg, going for a walk at dusk, visiting a mostly empty park). We frequently order contactless delivery for lunch or dinner, which allows us to support our local businesses, put off the next grocery run for another day or two, and spend time that would be devoted to cooking and dishwashing on self-care instead. Plus, eating out at restaurants is one of life's greatest pleasures for me, so I'm able to reclaim a little slice of happiness by ordering in.

Food is one of my coping mechanisms, too. Want some feelgood fizz to calm the nerves? There's Coca-Cola chilling in the fridge, and there's grenadine and vanilla syrup in the cupboard. Had a rough work week? Treat yourself to some comfort food from the local barbecue joint. Need someone to hold you after an absolutely horrible day? Ben & Jerry are looking forward to some spooning.

Food works as a coping mechanism not just because it tastes good, but because it's reliable. When I order a Son of Baconator from Wendy's, I know exactly how I'm going to feel when I'm done eating. A deli sandwich with lettuce, onion, mustard, and mayo on a good-quality roll, with a side of chips, is guaranteed to cheer me up—even if it ends up being a mediocre sandwich. Living in such uncertain times, I need all the predictability and emotional control I can get. I fully understand that this is an unhealthy coping mechanism with long-term consequences, but after everything that's happened in this country over the last year, I don't have high expectations that my fellow Americans will let me live long enough for my pandemic eating habits to catch up with me. If the possibility of killing anyone you breathe on isn't enough incentive to pull your mask up over your nose, then I can only assume that my life means nothing to you.

I now have a zero-tolerance policy for businesses where the employees don't wear their masks properly. It's been a year; masks are now as much a part of the dress code as any other article of clothing. I've stopped patronizing or walked right out of shops and delis I used to frequent, and I'm not shy about (politely) complaining to the management or calling employees out. Half a dozen of my personal acquaintances have died from COVID, and I know firsthand what it can do to a person—you'll have to forgive me if I expect you to keep your face covered with a mask the same way I expect you to leave a bathroom with all appropriate body parts back inside your pants.

Half of me wants to have absolutely nothing to do with the outside world anymore. I'm content to spend every day at home with my wife—there's plenty to keep us occupied, we support each other, we make each other laugh, and our differing sleep patterns afford us both some time alone on a regular basis. If I can forget that there's a world beyond these four walls, then I won't be depressed about being cut off from all the people, places, and activities I want in my life.

But the other half of me needs the outside world. I'm an entertainer, a critical reviewer, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, a helping hand—everything that plays to my strengths and gives me purpose in life requires other people. Being an introvert makes this more difficult, because interacting with and performing for other people is draining, and I need ample time to myself to recharge.

One would think that a year of quarantine would offer plenty of time to recharge, but I've also been worrying about the outside world and trying to fend off all the negative feelings that accompany extended self-isolation. It's taken every coping mechanism I have just to get through certain days, and yet I've pushed myself to be social and keep up with side projects such as writing, recording, and game design. I beat myself up for not doing enough for other people during this time, but my wife is quick to remind me that I'm already doing so much, and that I deserve a break.

So maybe that's my cue to cap this post here and go play video games. I've been gravitating toward construction simulators that let me exercise my creativity, easy shooters and beat-em-ups that let me vent my aggression, low-stress strategy games that offer a blend of construction and destruction, intuitive adventure games that make me feel smart, and visual novels where I decide how the story ends. I can't handle pulse-pounding action unless the stakes are low and my odds of success are high. Life is challenging enough right now; I'm craving things that are calm, predictable, and uplifting—which has also informed my television and movie choices to some degree. Thank you, Japan, for the joy of Laid-Back Camp in this stressful time.

Yeah. I think I'm gonna go play video games.

AnimeNEXT 2018 was the first time in years where I was fully able to unwind, relax, and enjoy myself on vacation, and it remains one of my all-time favorite convention experiences. I've seen enough sequels to know that the second time isn't guaranteed to measure up to the first, so I had no illusions that the 2019 convention would be anywhere near as magical. Still, my wife and I secured tickets and spent several months planning and getting psyched for AnimeNEXT 2019.

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Now, then. Convention stories!

LODGING

My wife and I have been staying at bed & breakfasts since our honeymoon. Usually we select a B&B based on some combination of unique character (eg, a castle built from found materials, Halloween decorations out the wazoo), scrumptious breakfast options (eg, a rotating menu prepared by a legit pastry chef), and fun perks (eg, cats on the premises, homemade shortbread at all hours). When my wife booked the Carisbrooke Inn, only three things mattered: it was close to the convention center, reasonably priced, and still available.

Had we not been conventioning, we would've gotten more out of our stay. But the designated breakfast times of either 8:30 or 9:30 AM didn't mesh well with our optimal timing for getting into costume and getting out the door. The paper-thin walls put a damper on coming back from the convention around midnight and discussing our plans for the next day at normal volume levels. And we certainly weren't around to take advantage of the free wine at 5 PM.

Our particular room met our needs: it had a comfortable bed, a full-length mirror for checking costumes, enough space for us to lay out all our stuff and maneuver around each other, and a place to sit. Parking was offsite in a tiny lot around the corner, but the neighborhood seemed safe enough and the weather was nice. Overall, our stay was fine, just not ideal for the weekend we had planned.

One anecdote worth sharing: We were showed to our room by a summer intern, who had some difficulty demonstrating how to turn on the TV. When it finally came on, there was some infomercial about—I swear I'm not making this up—butt surgery. With color diagrams. And either he didn't notice or was unsure how to turn it back off. My wife and I had to hold in our laughter for a good 2-3 minutes while he finished giving us the tour of our room with the TV on at full volume.

FOOD

Our meal planning at last year's convention is best described as "winging it." That is not to say we only ate chicken wings; nay, my vegetarian (now vegan) wife would have protested. Rather, we failed to scope out food options in advance—basically the opposite of how we normally plan our trips.

Last year's impromptu dining decisions took us to Tun Tavern (more my kind of place), where I bumped into the host of the fun voice acting Q&A panel we had just attended; to Cavo Crepe Cafe (more my wife's kind of place), where we hurriedly ate outside as the staff started to close up shop and the wind nearly swept us away; and to one of the many food kiosks at the convention center, where I ate a mediocre pizza. Wait, I wasn't going to tell you that last story.

This year, we identified several restaurants within 10 minutes of the convention center, making note of their business hours. Given that my wife only eats during a convention if (a) she's about to pass out, and (b) there's nothing else of interest on her schedule, I knew I'd be fending for myself a lot of the time.

Still, my wife and I joined up for a hearty Saturday dinner at Los Amigos, a Mexican restaurant that appealed equally to both of us. We also had a supremely enjoyable Thursday dinner at The Continental. I had French onion soup dumplings, which were incredible. We loved the decor: our "outdoor" table (technically indoor, because we were in a mall) was next to a fire pit on a little island surrounded by water, and the rest of the restaurant was some combination of the original Star Trek, original Battlestar Galactica, vintage Doctor Who, and a David Lynch film. Very cool.

We also had breakfast together every morning. The B&B had a set menu of a half-dozen options—pancakes, eggs, bacon; all the usual fare. This was fine for me, but my wife was restricted to avocado toast because she's a filthy Millenn—I mean, uh, vegan. Actually, my wife informs me it was avocados and oatmeal. Either way, our hosts were very accommodating, and the orange juice was on point, so that's what really matters.

I ended up having all my other meals at the convention center, but I was smart this year: instead of sodas and greasy grub, I opted for Powerade and vaguely healthy sandwiches (vaguely healthy in that there was a lettuce leaf on top). Physically, I felt much better this convention, what with being properly hydrated and not traveling everywhere with a lead stomach.

SUMMARY

I think that pretty much covers everything. AnimeNEXT 2019 was—oh, I guess I missed some stuff.

COSTUMES

Well in advance of the convention, I had agreed to doing a couple's cosplay with my wife. She reckoned that we'd have more fun and be more recognizable as two characters from the same series. We both had our demands: I required a costume that was relatively easy and unobtrusive; she wanted something that didn't require a wig. We settled on Dr. Mikhail Cossack and Dr. Noelle Lalinde, two scientists from the Mega Man franchise (the latter from the Archie Comics continuity).

The costume components were easy enough to assemble. I had a pair of brown shoes that looked fairly accurate, and a pair of fake glasses left over from the Lowery Cruthers cosplay I did for a Jurassic Park/World movie marathon some months prior. I don't mean to brag, but I own a pair of khaki pants. I found a perfect tie and shirt at Goodwill. I picked up a lab coat from a uniform store—not the cheapest costume piece I've ever bought, but it opens up numerous future cosplay options. My hair and beard were already the appropriate length and easy to style.

I forget what all my wife had to do to pull together her costume, though I suspect there was some sort of Sailor Moon transformation sequence involved (or maybe just lots of sewing).

Now, my wife's intention was to bleach her hair, cut it to the character's specifications, and dye it the appropriate color. She had hassled with transporting, styling, pinning, and enduring the weight of two different wigs at the last convention, and she simply did not have the patience or energy to go through that again. Unfortunately, there was a mishap when she trimmed her own hair. And then another mishap when she attempted to salvage it for a secondary costume that fell through. Instead of looking like a comic book character, she turned herself into Little Lord Fauntleroy.

With tears in her eyes, she drove off into the sunset looking for a place that would sell her a wig.

Of course, costumes alone wouldn't be enough for anyone but the most diehard Mega Man fans to recognize us on sight. We needed props. So my wife went to work on a plushie (well, a round cat toy strung with wire and covered in fabric) of Beat the robotic bird, laminated fold-out "photos" of my fictional daughter (including official art, manga and comic book panels, and a screenshot from OH JOES!), and name badges for the both of us (complete with fake bar codes made of inverted tiles from Pharaoh Man's stage in Mega Man 4). I think everything turned out pretty darn well.

I don't think I've ever gotten so many requests to have my picture taken at a convention. A few times, people called out, "Hey, Dr. Light!" to me—and though I always set the record straight about who I was, I was happy they at least got the right franchise. My wife pointed out that Mega Man 11 was still fresh in people's minds, and young Dr. Light isn't too far off from Dr. Cossack if you're just going off of memory. Maybe that's a costume for another convention.

​My wife also went to the effort of drafting an essay written from the perspective of her character, and putting it in a binder with robot schematics on the cover. Although she didn't end up doing so, she toyed with the idea of hamming it up and handing out copies of her essay to random conventiongoers to warn them of the dangers of making robots seem too human.

We took a break from cosplaying on Saturday; my wife needed a respite from the wig, and I thought I'd be happier in street clothes for a day. Although my neato Super Metroid shirt got a few comments, I was surprised to find that I missed the recognition (and extra pockets) of the costume. I was also a little chilly at times; the Atlantic City convention center cranked up the air conditioning the appropriate amount for hordes of people in costume in the middle of summer. Good on you, AC. I reprised my role as Dr. Cossack on Sunday, while my wife changed into her alternate costume, "Woman Who Can't Even With This Wig Anymore."

THURSDAY/FRIDAY

After standing in line (a comically long line extending the entire length of the convention center, down the stairs, and back up the same stairs) to pick up our badges on Thursday night, we spent some time poring over the program and schedule. I had already downloaded the Guidebook app (a precaution after last year's scheduling problems), but I was pleased to discover that the print schedule completely matched up with the online one, at least for everything I wanted to attend.

Unfortunately, everything I wanted to attend was distributed in the worst way possible. Either there was absolutely nothing of interest, or 2-6 really compelling programs all happening at the same time. I had wanted to see the film Summer Wars, for example, but it would've required me to give up a panel on Lupin III (my favorite anime franchise), dinner at a reasonable time, and two competing events that I was tossed between. And if I gave up on Summer Wars after a few minutes—which would be consistent with the "not really feeling this" and "can't read the subtitles from my seat" reasons I had for abandoning videos the previous year—the Lupin panel would be half over and probably filled to capacity anyhow.

So, here's how my Friday went:

Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water: I wasn't thrilled about starting my day with random video programming, but the dealers' room wasn't open yet, and most of my other options were introductions to things outside my sphere of interests. So, I watched an early '90s adaptation of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. It filled the time just fine, but I wandered off after two episodes to go find my wife.

Anime Car Show: I think it's cool that there were half a dozen cars on display from Initial D or with anime-themed decals all over. But Doc Brown's DeLorean, KITT, and my personal vehicle when it's carrying newly purchased dessert are about the only cars my wife and I get excited about. The fact that we showed up, even briefly, to look at cars that didn't travel through time, talk to the driver, or contain dessert should indicate how our morning was going.

AnimeNEXT Family Feud: Family Feud is my favorite game show and one of my favorite TV shows in general. There was no way I was missing this. Disappointingly, the organizers were running on little sleep due to unforeseen circumstances, hadn't had a chance to test the technical equipment, and kept forgetting how certain elements of the game were supposed to work. The pace was slow, and most of the questions were either too broad ("Of all the Gen 1 Pokemon, which would you want for a starter?") or too narrow ("Name a Devil May Cry character with white hair"), and the majority were gaming questions instead of anime questions. The high point was playing rock-paper-scissors against our fellow audience members to gain a seat on stage, and tying about a dozen times in a row with the person behind me. Ridiculous. Also, I lost.

Dealers' room and artist alley: With nothing else on the schedule until early evening, I strolled through aisle after aisle of manga, plushies, keychains, tiny boxes from Japan containing models of the Fisher-Price Enterprise from Star Trek (2009), and any other merchandise you can think of. As with last year, I didn't want to bring home much more than a book full of sketches (more on that later), but I allowed myself a few purchases over the course of the weekend—mostly video game art prints for myself, but also a Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai art print for a friend, and a few varieties of Pocky to share at my workplace.

Lupin the 3rd With Various Guests: This panel was hosted by Richard Epcar, Lex Lang, and Ellyn Stern, who had lent their voices to various Lupin III dubs over the years. Now, I've only ever watched Lupin (and most anime, for that matter) with subtitles, but I was hoping that my passing familiarity with these people (who've played bit parts in such favorites as Heroes of Might and Magic III) and our shared interest in Lupin would be sufficient to enjoy the panel. In retrospect, I really should've gone to Summer Wars; there was a lot of discussion about the Blue Jacket series on Cartoon Network that I haven't seen, and it seemed like Ellyn and Richard weren't in sync about how structured or serious the panel was supposed to be.

Companies That Knew Nothing About "ANIME FAN WANTS": This was a treasure trove of hilarious horror stories and unbelievable anecdotes from now-defunct companies in the anime industry. George from Land of Obscusion regaled us with tales about everything from DVD production ("No, we totally didn't charge money for a DVD set that just sloppily ripped a fan translation from the Internet") to subtitles ("Hey, when you translate this anime, could you avoid using words with the letter 'Y'? The keyboard I'm using to type the subtitles doesn't have a functioning 'Y' key"). Tight presentation of interesting material.

AMV Contest Screening: I missed the first half because of the previous program, but my wife saved me a seat. I arrived in time for the beginning of the Dramatic/Serious category, which hit me right in the feels with the likes of "Parallel" (Violet Evergarden + "Restless Soul" by Flor). In the Artistic category, I was captivated by the psychedelic "Pachyderm Panic" (Puella Magi Madoka Magica + "Pink Elephants on Parade" from Dumbo). "The hero we need" (Astro Boy + "Captain Underpants Theme Song" by "Weird Al" Yankovic) was an amusing surprise in Fun/Upbeat, and funnier (to my tastes, anyhow) than anything under Comedy. Shockingly, last year's trend of everyone using the same two songs from The Greatest Showman continued unabated.

AMV Sing-Along AFTER DARK: Our first choice was the too-popular-to-get-into panel on hilariously bad anime, so we settled in for a less restrained version of the family-friendly AMV sing-along that cheerfully capped off last year's convention. Notably, this was not labeled as an 18+ panel, but it was late enough that the hosts felt comfortable with just giving a warning before any video with questionable content. There were gems such as "Clubbin' with Lupin" (Lupin III, One Piece​, and others + "Jack Sparrow" by Lonely Island feat. Michael Bolton), plus a few of the bawdy AMVs you'd expect from an "after dark" panel, but there were also some horrifically gory ones. Like, "how did my child get into this without a wristband" gory. And I am supremely squeamish. I spent what felt like a quarter of the sing-along looking away from the screen.

Richard Epcar's Famous Outtake Panel (18+): I think this is what I wanted out of the Lupin panel earlier in the day. Richard Epcar, accompanied by Lex Lang, showed a multitude of voice acting outtakes (audio paired with the video clips they were trying to dub) from Lupin III and other anime they'd been involved with. I could've done without so much locker room humor; my favorite outtakes were the flat-out silly ones, with actors catastrophically stumbling over their lines, making up random nonsense, or breaking the fourth wall with absurd observations about the show.

Thursday/Friday cosplay photos:

This was hastily taken as my segment of the snaking registration line curved around a corner, briefly matching up with where these cosplayers were. Left to right, we have Rin Hoshizora, Nozomi Tojo, Umi Sonoda, and Maki Nishikino from Love Live!

Serendipitously, our first cosplay encounter of the convention proper was with a character from the same franchise as us. Metal Man from Mega Man 2 is pictured here with two random nerds.

Shizuo Heiwajima and Izaya Orihara from Durarara!! stopped to duke it out.

The crew from Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid was in attendance: Quetzalcoatl, Elma, Fafnir, Tohru, and Kanna.

It's great to see a whole family (or else a bunch of convincingly familial strangers) cosplay together: Ryuko from Kill La Kill; Flynn Rider from Tangled; and Dr. Eggman, Cheese the Chao, and Miles "Tails" Prower from the Sonic games. Eggman's hand gesture summarizes my feelings toward the accuracy of these costumes.

My wife tells me these are Red Blood Cell and Macrophage from Cells at Work. I tell my wife that she can watch shows like this without me because blood is icky.

I was impressed by this superb Brock and Steelix from an obscure series called Pokémon.

I saw more cosplayers from The Seven Deadly Sins than from any other show I recognized, and it was fun scrutinizing the differences in construction and detail between similar costumes. I held out on taking any photos until I found a group, and Meliodas (and Hawk), King, Escanor, and Diane were kind enough to oblige.

Final Fantasy VII's gloriously polygonal Cloud was one of my favorite cosplays of the convention. So clever.

I'm glad to see that good ol' Vash the Stampede remains a convention staple some 20 years after Trigun stopped airing.

Kirby's King DeDeDe would like to ask for your place in line. Best not to argue with that hammer.

SATURDAY

By the time we got back to the B&B, it was technically Saturday. Our biggest mistake was staying up past 2 AM trying to reassess our initial program selections now that we'd been conventioning for a whole day.

Even without getting up early to don a costume, I was exhausted when I woke up. In large part because of that exhaustion, Saturday ended up being the least enjoyable day of the convention, though not without its high points.

Experiences as an Anime Singer Songwriter With Shihori Nakane: Although I was unfamiliar with this person's work, hers was the one and only morning program that wasn't an educational workshop of some sort (tough luck if you're not interested in crafting, cosplay, or putting your brain to work before lunchtime!). I'm glad I tagged along with my wife; I got to hear some fun stories, including one about meeting the legendary Yoko Kanno. Nakane idolized Kanno and was giddy and nervous when meeting with her to collaborate on a song. Kanno introduced herself by offering a bag of snacks to Nakane. Awestruck, she thought to herself, "God gave me snacks!"

AMV Contest Screening: As the arts and crafts programming continued into the lunch hour, I got caught up on the AMVs I had missed the previous day. Trailer/Parody is usually my favorite category, but this crop of AMVs relied on being familiar with a bunch of series I've had minimal exposure to. Romance/Sentimental gave my feels no chance to recover from the previous day, assaulting me with "Happy Little Clouds" (various series + "Bob Ross Remixed" by Melodysheep) and "Chihiro in Wonderland" (Spirited Away + "C'mon" by Panic! at the Disco). Action didn't seem as action-y as usual, but I enjoyed "The Deciding Moment" (Haikyu!!, Ace of Diamond, and Kuroko's Basketball + "Seki-ray" by Gackt). I'll refer you to this playlist for all the AMVs I didn't mention; there were a lot of good ones.

The Girl Who Leapt Through Time: "Slice of life with a sci-fi twist" is one of my favorite anime genres, and my wife and I enjoyed this tale of a girl...well, you read the title. Lots of clever surprises and fun character interactions, and the ending gave us plenty of conversation fodder. Probably the best part of the day for me.

The Anime Bubble of 2008: What We've Learned: We apparently learned nothing, because I have no recollection of this panel, aside from showing up late and taking a photo of some cosplayers on the way out.

Why Visual Novels: Tales from a Beta Tester (18+): I'm not into visual novels, but I play one on TV. I mean, uh, I know people who make visual novels, I have actual beta testing experience, and I'm interested in behind-the-scenes stories from the video game industry. Mike (I think his name was Mike) was an engaging presenter, and his stories were funny and insightful. He described the workload (tens of thousands of words to review), the wide variations in how tester-friendly games might be, and how testing games with naughty content isn't as glamorous as it sounds.

AnimeNEXT Match Game: After Dark (18+): We attended this last year, and it was the highlights of the convention: Match Game but with audience members participating as the characters they were cosplaying. At that time, voice actor Bill Timoney was on the panel and brought a sense of humor and professionalism that elevated the whole thing. This time, I arrived late and missed the introductions, so I had no clue who was on stage. If I hadn't read the description, I wouldn't have recognized the program as a game show; participants were rambling about NSFW topics (and after Epcar's outtakes, blunt sex jokes were wearing thin for me). I left after maybe 5 minutes.

New Cutey Honey OVA '94: Either I got the wrong room or they switched what they were showing, because this OVA about a crime-fighting android looked an awful lot like a grossly underage busty girl undressing before a grossly underage boy. I left after maybe 5 seconds.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Scenes: Regrouping with my wife, I resigned myself to random video clips for the rest of the night. At its best, the panel was a parade of share-worthy videos, such as a very cool animated Star Wars short film called "TIE Fighter" and the supremely absurd "Daffy Duck the Wizard." Just as often, however, it was a prolonged introduction from one of the four hosts, or an uncomfortably gory clip that once again had me closing my eyes. I'll add that this was not labeled as an 18+ panel. We left around midnight; there was another hour to go, but my exhaustion had finally reached its limit.

Saturday cosplay photos:

I appreciated the double dose of Samuel L. Jackson, with Nick Fury from The Avengers and Frozone from The Incredibles.

Princess Daisy is ready for some Mario Tennis. I saw a number of good Mario cosplayers, but I was especially excited to see one of my mains from an underappreciated spinoff series that I love.

Compared with last year, the total population of non-anime cosplayers dropped by half. I suspect Nick Fury had Thanos flashbacks and used his cosmic pager to summon Captain Marvel's Captain Marvel to the convention to help.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS, BUT IT'S AWESOME apparently it's Garuda from Final Fantasy XIV.

With Hunk and Voltron from Voltron: Legendary Defender on hand, I knew the parking garage would be safe.

I ate lunch with All Might and Katsuki Bakugo (as influenced by Best Jeanist). I don't know what those words mean; my wife told me to say them.

Lastly, two characters I could identify unassisted: Little Witch Academia's Atsuko “Akko” Kagari and Diana Cavendish. I also spy Solid Snake from Metal Gear Solid in the corner trying to sneak into or out of this photo.

SUNDAY

I wish we could've started with Sunday's programming; this was the convention I was here to attend. An eclectic assortment of options, timed neatly enough to minimize awkward gaps, gave me the freedom to attend whatever I felt like without agonizing over what I might miss.

How to Panel 101: As a Minor Internet Celebrity™, I've long considered applying to host a panel at a video game convention where people might recognize my work. I've recently been given opportunities to present at small local events, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to brush up on the basics. This presentation was invaluable. A lot of the advice was common sense, but the way the information was organized really helped to emphasize the importance of having someone proofread your application to host a panel, practicing your presentation, and preparing for every worst-case technology scenario.

Creatures in Features with Voice Actors Lex Lang and Sandy Fox: Hands-down the best part of the convention. The first half alone would've been one of the best panels I attended, and accessible even to people with no prior knowledge of these people. The affable hosts discussed how they got into voice acting; some of the roles they've played; and their involvement in loop groups, who fill in all the grunts, gasps, background chatter, and animal noises (you wouldn't believe the training involved for animal noises) needed to flesh out the sound in movies and TV shows. They talked about how Amy Jo Johnson, the original Pink Power Ranger, contributed to getting into that line of work. They played clips from some of the movies they've done and pointed out where you can hear them; Sandy cheered as the candy spectators in Wreck-it-Ralph, and it turns out Lex is my favorite velociraptor in Jurassic World.

The second half is what made this panel truly special: the audience was invited to do the looping for a scene from one of the newer Planet of the Apes movies, with the takes recorded and edited on the spot. A few people were background apes, and Lex coached them on how to grunt and ook convincingly. One person was a more prominent ape who got to shout. I was Breathing Man, as we called him—some poor schmoe who wandered into the jungle for the express purpose of breathing heavily and gasping at apes. I'm plenty comfortable with voiceovers, but I'm definitely not a natural when it comes to nonverbal reactions. Still, between thinking back to my theater days and getting some fantastically supportive coaching from Lex, I eventually produced some usable noises. When everything was spliced together and the music track was added, you could've convinced me that I was watching the actual movie. So, so tremendously cool.

Anime Openings & Endings THE MAN Doesn't Want You to See: I was tossed between this and a workshop on learning to play hanafuda. However, we wanted to wind down with something passive, I recalled how much I enjoyed last year's panel on the best anime openings of the '80s (including one from Kimagure Orange Road that was logistically fascinating), and I saw that George from Land of Obscusion would be hosting. This was an entertaining collection of footage that never made it stateside due to licensing or other issues, such as the Astro Boy opening that doubled as an advertisement for Glico (the Pocky people), or the trio of openings where composer Rui Nagai kept getting in trouble for ripping off other people's songs.

Animation in Anime: After a final run through the dealers' room, where I realized I'd blown my chance at getting a Ridley amiibo, I joined my wife for our final program, already in progress. There were two other panels I was considering attending, but I saw that this was co-hosted by Evan Minto, who ran two of the best-presented panels that we attended last year (one about the evolution of faces in anime, and one about the various appearances of burgers in anime), so that won me over. This was a discussion of the techniques and processes that bring anime to life, and I was especially interested in the part about visual continuity. Apparently, each scene in a show or movie might be done by a completely different animator. My favorite moment was, when discussing the importance of checking for quality and consistency, this image was left up on the screen:

This makes me laugh every time I see it.

Sunday cosplay photos:

We weren't able to get a clear shot of a fantastic Alex Louis Armstrong cosplay from Fullmetal Alchemist, so you get nothing.

ARTWORK

...I'm sorry; I glanced up at that goofy screencap and started laughing again. What am I talking about now? Oh yes. Artwork.

Last year I brought a sketchbook to the artist alley and solicited doodles from anyone who was willing. This year, I brought the same sketchbook (plenty of pages left to fill!) and a pocketful of dollar bills. My wife, herself an artist, said that even though these doodles weren't formally commissions, it'd be only fair to thank the artists with a little financial support. So, until the allotted cash ran out, I went around artist alley asking folks, "If I give you a dollar, would you draw me a doodle? Anything you want; wherever there's a blank spot is fine."

There were still many blank spots among the doodles I got in 2018. To save you the effort of comparing these images against the ones in the previous convention recap, my wife has drawn yellow boxes around any new doodles on old pages.

Most people were receptive to the proposal; a couple were busy or just watching the booth until the artist returned. One artist wanted some time to think and had me come back later; another couldn't decide what to draw, which prompted the first suggestion I've ever made (RWBY, specifically, after looking at what was on display) since making sketch collection a habit.

One girl who was a convention attendee saw me soliciting sketches, and she asked if she could draw something. The woman with her (I'm assuming her mother) apologized and tried to dissuade me, but I was more than happy to give the girl a dollar for the boxy little robot she drew.

Instead of drawing his own doodle, one artist thought it would be fun to add to someone else's doodle. Apparently he does this all the time. I'm still not sure whether to be amused or annoyed that I paid a dollar for a breath puff.

I wasn't choosy about the artists I solicited; I started on one end of artist alley and systematically worked my way across, circling back to a booth later if it was too crowded when I got there. I've found that the sketches I receive often bear no resemblance whatsoever to the art on display, so I even asked the people selling jewelry and sculptures to contribute.

I'll stop yammering for a while and let you get on with looking at sketches.

I like how it looks like the ghost is spooking the doodles to the right.

Important note: these are gay bees. The artist said so.

These last two are best viewed in the sketchbook itself; the scanned images don't give the full "flip book" effect of looking at the first one and then turning the page to see the second one appear directly behind it.

SUMMARY

Overall, I enjoyed AnimeNEXT 2019, but it ranks just below average among my convention experiences. I'm grateful that the convention staff listened to last year's feedback about the print schedule, and the program booklet was organized much better than before. I was pleased that every video I watched had subtitles where I could see them. Any other improvements from last year were ones my wife and I introduced: costumes that were more recognizable and fun to wear, planning out our meals better, downloading the Guidebook app to supplement the print schedule.

I wasn't a fan of how the programming was distributed; awkwardly staggered start times and too many panels appealing to the same audience at once (especially when they dominated an entire hour block) made it hard to be satisfied with my choices. My wife reports that most of the many concerts she attended didn't do the performers justice—too large a stage for just one person to command. I intend to have a word with the convention organizers about how graphic violence doesn't suddenly become appropriate for all ages after 10 PM.

Perhaps the biggest lesson for me was that the presenter is more important than the material being presented. Shihore Nakane was interesting because she's fun to listen to, not because I had any connection to her work. Previous attendance at panels hosted by George, Evan, and Lex swayed my decision to attend panels they hosted on Saturday and Sunday, which ended up being some of my favorites. Of the four game shows I attended between this year and last year, the only one I genuinely liked was largely because of the special guest.

Despite the low points this year, a lot of things we liked about last year's convention remained unchanged: great location, perfect attendance size, interesting events with interesting guests, good-quality cosplay, a dealers' room and artist alley with plenty to see, friendly convention staff, friendly convention center staff (those folks don't get nearly enough credit), and a very reasonable entrance fee. We're excited to try our luck again next year.

AnimeNEXT has become our convention of choice, just like Otakon was over a decade ago. Even when things don't go as well as they could, it's nice to have a place to call home.

My free time in February was primarily devoted to designing my entry for the Make a Good Mega Man Level contest on the Mega Man fansite Sprites INC. Consequently, I'm a bit behind on the writing and recording I wanted to have done by now—but I'm behind for a good cause, and I'm excited to share my finished level with the general public once the judging is done. In the meantime, here's everything I did manage to accomplish that pertains to my online endeavors:

This Website:

With the release of the 3DS Mega Man Legacy Collection, my name now appears in the credits of an official Mega Man game by Capcom. Naturally, there's a story behind this, and it's one of the most significant stories I've written about in quite a while. In keeping with this website's purpose as a base of operations for my creative endeavors, this seemed like a good time to set up a Games page that catalogs my contributions to professional and fan-made video games. I'm more prolific than you might expect, and there's potential for the list to grow in the years to come. I also kept plugging away at my Mega Man Series Opinions, finishing off my review of Mega Man X3 and going back to tidy up some of the Classic games now that I've started to categorize things a little differently.

- Retrospective: January 2016
- The Legacy of a Challenge
- Games

YouTube:

As mentioned above, I was otherwise occupied for most of the month, so I didn't get to start recording the video footage for my playthrough of Mega Man 8 as originally planned. Still, I've got something to show for myself, including a livestream of random SNES games, and a particularly silly installment of The GameCola Podcats. Meow.

Flashman85LIVE:
- Backloggery Choice #3: Mega Man Soccer, Super Mario RPG, Kirby Super Star, Donkey Kong Country 2

GCDotNet:
- The GameCola Podcast #89: When Jeddy's Away the Cats Will Play

The Backloggery:

LEGO Jurassic World got my wife and me back into co-op gaming on a regular basis, and it was the most fun we've had with a LEGO game since way back on the GameCube with LEGO Star Wars. When we went out to pick up the Mega Man Legacy Collection on release day, a couple bargain-price LEGO games came home with us, allowing for many more stay-at-home date nights. In prepping for my SNES livestream, I noticed I'd never updated Kirby Super Star for the SNES after playing through it as part of Kirby's Dream Collection for the Wii, hence the random Completed status for a game I hadn't been playing. And that's all the boring news I have to share about my video game backlog.

New:
LEGO Pirates of the Caribbean  (Wii)
LEGO The Lord of the Rings  (Wii)
Mega Man Legacy Collection  (3DS)

Beat:
LEGO Jurassic World  (WiiU)
 
Completed:
Kirby Super Star  (SNES)
LEGO Jurassic World  (WiiU)

So much Mega Man! More than usual, even. No wonder I've been in such a good mood lately.

Collecting art is a funny thing for me. Geeky memorabilia notwithstanding, there's relatively little in my home that I myself have collected for the sake of putting on display...but I'm my no means an implacable art critic or a hater of the visual arts. I like small souvenirs of the neat places I've visited—a model lighthouse here, a golden trolley there—and I appreciate certain examples of painting and photography as much as anyone. Glass, stone, and metal are materials I find interesting in raw form, let alone crafted into something deliberately for display. There's plenty of art I could collect, but unlike practically anything else I collect, I approach each piece like I'm getting married to it.

Collectables from my favorite fandoms are easy. Do I like it? Can I afford it? Decision made. Putting fictional worlds into tangible form brings my escapist fantasies closer to reality, on top of looking cool. Collecting objects purely for their decorative properties—and perhaps for some sentimental value, depending on the circumstances—is another matter entirely. Art is often an investment. Can I justify spending boo-hah bucks on a painting that fills a space on the wall that could otherwise be covered with a cheap-but-awesome poster? Art is often impractical. I can always pick up my model spaceships and fly them around the house if I want to give them a more practical function as playthings (I'm grown-up enough to admit I still do this sometimes), but swinging around a statue of The Thinker can only end in calamity, if we've learned anything from Phoenix Wright. If all I'm going to do is look at the thing, it's gotta be visually interesting to the point where I can justify paying money to have it in my house and taking up space for the rest of my life.

Suddenly I'm wondering if marriage was the best comparison to use here.

All I'm getting at is that collecting art is, to me, not something I do without careful consideration. I've since turned my attention elsewhere from some of my earlier favorite fandoms, but if you gave me an Inspector Gadget action figure or a Fraggle Rock poster, I'd gladly put them on display—remembering the times when those were big influences makes me happy, and I never really stopped being a fan. I don't know that I'd say the same about some of the more traditional art I've considered over the years; tastes change, and I would be doing myself a disservice to commit to bringing such an investment into my life strictly because I think it's pretty at this particular moment. If I'm going to be serious about collecting art, I want the object of my interest to fascinate me, transform a room by its presence, start compelling conversations, be a suitable companion no matter where my life may lead me, and look nice. But that last part's just a bonus.

Suddenly I think marriage might've been the right comparison after all.

I am an anime fan, but for reasons previously discussed elsewhere, I don't often write about my fondness for this fandom. I've been to a few conventions, dressed up as a few characters, purchased numerous DVDs and a manga or two, received a calendar and a couple figurines as gifts, put up a wall scroll and a small handful of posters in my home, even had (or still have) a minor crush on a few characters who I readily recognize are fictional—that's more than enough for me to have plenty to write about Japanese animation and the surrounding fan culture.

Still, next to anyone else I've ever met who likes anime, I'm a rookie and a casual fan at best. I watch a combination of maybe a half dozen films and series a year, I write up a post if there's one like Fullmetal Alchemist or _Clannad or Gurren Lagann or Black Lagoon that sparks a strong enough reaction, and then I go back to Star Trek and Mega Man and whatever else it is that everyone thinks I exclusively do. I'm neither diehard enough nor well-versed enough to feel inspired or qualified to say very much about the medium most days.

I've got my favorites, though: Blue Seed, the formulaic and often intentionally funny action series that acted as my first formal introduction to anime; Trigun, the slightly sci-fi western with a satisfying balance of goofiness and thought-provoking seriousness; Azumanga Daioh!, the cute, innocent, and hysterical slice-of-life heartwarmer; Neon Genesis Evangelion, the classic mind-bending show that starts off about kids piloting giant robots and ends in buh-wha-huuuuuuuuh!?; and the first seven episodes of the aforementioned Black Lagoon, before everything gets all stabby and uncomfortable. There are plenty of honorable mentions, too: Panda-Z, FLCL, Fruits Basket, Dirty Pair, Read or Die, Spirited Away, Perfect Blue, Onegai Teacher, Poyopoyo Kansatsu Nikki, Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit, Tokyo Godfathers, Crying Freeman, Soul Eater, Doraemon, and Sekirei—and if you know anything about these anime, this is a weird list of honorable mentions.

Not as weird as it could be, though. I have no stomach for graphic violence, little or no interest in the supernatural, no particular attachment to steampunk or traditional fantasy, no patience for series that take five episodes to tell a story that could fit into one, and a slew of other preferences and intolerances that tend to rule out sticking with certain films or series, assuming I bother with them in the first place. Drastically dissimilar as some of my favorites and honorable mentions may be, there are some commonalities between many of them: funny or lighthearted, action-oriented, intellectually challenging, emotionally uplifting, beautifully animated, excessively cute, populated with compelling female characters, family-friendly, and light on censorship. Anything I've mentioned probably meets at least four of these criteria.

Evangelion remains my favorite TV anime, and I've been looking forward to adding the reboot series to the collection, just as soon as I'm positive it's all been released and I have any idea how to decipher installment titles like Evangelion 3.141592: You Will [Not] Figure This Out Anytime Soon. However, there's one series I enjoy even more than Eva, and it's one that holds a special place in my heart: you see, I might not be married if it weren't for Lupin III.

My wife and I went to the same college and ran in many of the same geeky circles. One fateful night, things were slow at the video game club, and we opted to skip out early. We talked on the way back to our respective dorms, decided neither of us was tired, and she invited me to watch anime in her dorm. Enter Lupin III and his merry band of elite and stylish thieves. (Hopefully you have a mental picture of Lupin, Jigen, Goemon, and sometimes Fujiko piling into the dorm room with us, with Zenigata and his army of policemen behind them, because that's exactly how it happened.) I loved everything about it: the characters, the dynamics between them, the sight gags, the over-the-top action sequences ("He cut a plane in half with a sword!")--Lupin III was pure fun. Getting to share that time with someone equally fun made it even better.

We ended up staying awake until 4:30 in the morning just talking after the anime ran out (and I hope you're now picturing Lupin and the gang making a hasty egress through the door and window). We were good acquaintances before, but Lupin III is, for me, the start of where we became good friends and eventually a couple. My wife informs me this actually happened on a different occasion watching Read or Die, which just reinforces my sentiment that I'm not qualified to talk about anime.

Two weeks ago I arrived home from a tour through Austria and the Czech Republic with the current members and numerous alumni of my college chapel choir. What I want to tell you is that I had a thoroughly amazing time and loved every minute of it. Honestly, sincerely, I want that to be the truth, and I've thrown out two different drafts of this post because my feelings about the trip are so mixed that I can't provide a truthful assessment without explaining the entire story, which is something better suited to speaking with me in person. The concise version is this: while I'm glad to have met so many great people, sung in so many memorable venues, and traveled to a few new places—and the last few days truly were as amazing as I'd hoped they'd be—it took me far too long to get my head in the right place for the trip.

Initial preparations for the trip began months and months ago, and as is typical of me, I couldn't start getting excited about the trip until every piece was in place...which didn't happen until a few hours before the flight, thanks to some cashier's failure to remove the big honkin' anti-theft tag on the back of my tuxedo jacket, which had somehow gone noticed until I was packing my bag the day before I left. Up until I got on the plane, it was gotta pay for the trip, gotta get a tuxedo, gotta get time off from work, gotta find a way to and from the airport, gotta pack, gotta budget for meals and souvenirs, gotta brush up on the local languages, gotta...etc. Once I got on the plane, it was don't die on the plane, don't die on the plane. Once we landed, it was ugh, I need a nap, I need a shower, I should've packed differently for this stifling heat wave. Once I had time to rest and freshen up, it was holy cow, I only know, like, eight people on this trip, and there's almost a hundred of us; I want to get to know everyone and swap stories and find the right people to hang out with, but I've got to do the "Hello, my name is..." speech a few dozen times first, and I'm already starting to feel a bit of social overload.

It wasn't until I'd met the majority of the group and started to build a rapport with most of them that the trip really took off for me. Most of the places we visited (primarily Salzburg, Vienna, and Prague) were places I'd been before (which means I'm officially an experienced world traveler somehow), so that initial "ooh, aah" factor was often absent. I'm also extremely self-sufficient after my college semester abroad in Spain, so returning to a tour group mentality—especially a tour group so huge that we cause comical traffic jams in tiny European villages when we cross the street together—felt more restrictive than it would've otherwise. Together, these factors resulted in the quality of the company and the structure of our itinerary—along with the music, of course—being the driving factors in my enjoyment of the trip.

The neat thing, though, is that everybody got along—we all had the university and the choir in common, but there's a certain level of friendliness and respect that nearly all of the members I've ever sung with have shared. We had participants from as far back as the class of 1948 if I heard correctly, yet there was never any sense of an age barrier or any other kind of divide between us. Sure, we frequently broke off into the social groups we knew, but I spent just as much time with my peer group as I did with the young'uns and the retirement crowd. It took a while to feel out which people were similarly minded when it came to going sightseeing or finding a place to eat, but I never had a problem getting along with anyone.

Sightseeing, shopping, and socializing weren't the real draw of the trip, however; getting to sing one last time with my college conductor before his retirement was. Attending this concert tour was never a question; I was resolved to be a part of this from the first time he talked about it, back when I was still in college. This is the kind of man who could invite you to sing at the edge of an active volcano, and your first question would be, "full concert dress, or those silver fire proximity suits?" Singing in the choir under his direction was a remarkable joy and privilege, and it remains one of the most meaningful parts of my college career. I wouldn't miss this for the world.

Again, there were hurdles to my enjoyment: a number of seemingly avoidable logistical issues impacted the length and timing of our rehearsals; I developed a sinus infection halfway through; and one of the masses we sang was brand-new to me, and despite my best efforts to practice at home (aided only by YouTube videos and my wife's electronic keyboard), performing the 30-minute work was extremely strenuous for someone who was still kinda figuring it out as he went. All I wanted to do was show up, run around a foreign country with fun people, and make amazing music. The trip continued to improve as I got to know people better and started putting the "Do Something About It" policy into full effect, and I was genuinely loving tour by the end of it. Being there for our director's emotional final concert in a church with gorgeous acoustics, and spending time with him and half the other participants at the hotel's patio lounge afterwards (with a lovely view of the city of Prague), made the trip for me. The rest was just gravy.

I mean that literally and figuratively. Almost all of our group dinners consisted of meat with sauce. Beef in gravy, pork in gravy, etc. It got to the point where I started calling the first country we visited "Meat With Saucetria." Even our airplane food was in on the joke, both ways.

When I returned from the trip, I had four straight days of unadulterated vacation time. No work, no obligations, no plans of any kind. Even my wife was out of the equation, for she wouldn't be returning from her trip until early the following week. Do you know how rare that is? Since I moved a few years back, most of my time off from work has been spent traveling to see the people I miss. Since my wife left her old job and started an Etsy shop, I've had someone else with me in the apartment at all times—and while it's the woman I love, I'm also more of an introvert than I let on. I get "Me Time," but I seldom get alone time. To use a geeky and awkwardly wordy analogy, being in a different room from my wife is to having the house to myself as calling your mother in EarthBound to cure homesickness is to actually returning home and seeing her in person. For the first time since, I think, 2010, I had an honest-to-goodness vacation—which, to me, means not leaving the house for anything or engaging in any kind of social activity unless I really want to. I returned to work that Monday feeling more relaxed and energized than I had in years.

All things in moderation, however. Despite my enthusiasm for an empty home and an open schedule, that's not how I want to live the rest of my life. I got married for a reason. I go on all these road trips to see friends and family for a reason. It's just that my social time and quiet time are completely out of balance. I always think of The Sims, where my Social meter—the one for me that'd fill up the fastest and deplete the slowest—would be almost constantly maxed out. Fortunately, it's never at the expense of my Hygiene meter, but the time spent keeping Social topped off has to come from somewhere.

This drastic break from my routine—these reminders of what it was like to be in college, to travel the world, to be single—was refreshing and invigorating. It helped me to appreciate again the things I've started taking for granted, and to recognize what's been missing from my life. Spending time with people younger, my age, and older than me renewed my perspective on where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going. Being away from my wife so long drove home just how deeply we care about each other. Singing with a choir again reinforced the growing sentiment that I need to sing—music is an integral part of who I am, though you don't often see me writing about it. When my wife and I moved, we thought of it as only a temporary arrangement; no sense in putting down roots by finding a church, joining a choir, making friends, etc. if we were going to pack up and go in a couple of months. That was three years ago. I'm joining a choir.

As our guide on the trip said, travel changes people. Whatever else the tour and my vacation time at home may have been, I can say unquestionably that they have changed me for the better.

I mention my wife every so often in blog posts and videos, but I seldom talk about being married. I am lucky and blessed to have found someone so compatible with my interests, values, aspirations, and sense of humor. She is the best ever, really really really. [Editor's note: Don't go writing about your wife when she's sitting directly behind you and can swoop in to add her own sentences. Really really.]

::ahem::

The key here is not being identical, but compatible. Our political, social, and religious beliefs, for example, are anything but identical; however, we share enough common ground and are open-minded and articulate enough to have conversations about these topics that don't end in fisticuffs. We also thrive on making each other happy, so when one of us gets grumpy or depressed, the other one instinctively goes into damage control mode until morale improves. It's rare for us both to be in a lousy mood, because we don't share all the same emotional triggers. We're not identical, but we are compatible. Or, as Oblivion would put it, "We are an effective team."

As is to be expected from two people in constant company with each other, some of our mannerisms, idiosyncrasies, tastes, and opinions have rubbed off on each other. Our compatibility makes us malleable, particularly in areas where we have no strong opposition to change. She talks with her hands and listens to James Taylor more often than she used to, she makes video game references from games she's never even played, and she can name all the Mega Man bosses from the main games in the series (and sing most of their theme songs). She's influenced me a great deal as well:

- I routinely overtip at restaurants. Call it a greater appreciation of working in the service industry, as my wife once did...or call it adopted laziness, because 20% is easier to figure out than 15%.

- We meow at each other. Like cats. This is a surprisingly efficient mode of communication, because with the proper inflection we can convey queries about where the other person is going, or annoyance at the other person stealing our last bite of brownie, in a single meow.

- Meow meow meow me—oh, sorry. Forgot I wasn't just writing this for my wife. I've become decidedly more Earth-conscious (and I was already pretty good about switching off lights and recycling) and slightly more sympathetic to the vegetarian cause. I've had a salad for lunch once or twice.

- I listen to David Bowie. Outside of "Space Oddity" and "Changes," I didn't care much for the minimal exposure I'd had to his music before meeting my wife the superfan. Now I can truthfully say I like Bowie's work, but ironically, I prefer his more recent material (circa Reality), which my wife seems to like least. Again: compatible, but not identical.

- I go on regular cleaning sprees. This may merely be a consequence of having twice the number of people in the home, thereby doubling the amount of work and halving the amount of time between cleaning sprees, but I find myself being far more attentive to dishes and laundry than I ever was in my old apartment on my own (as my poor sister, who lived with me for a summer, can attest to).

- Other people don't seem so weird anymore. Trust me, this is a compliment. Her acceptance and understanding of alternate lifestyles has helped me to see beyond the labels people bear. I still don't like or agree with everyone I meet and hear about, but I'm also not as quick to judge.

- I wear cologne. And I've figured out how to apply it without bathing in it. Apparently women like it when you do that.

- The ratio of Asian to American movies I watch has become far less unequal. Netflix has a wide variety of subtitled films from China, Korea, Japan, and elsewhere, and my wife has every one of them on the Instant Queue. Actually, that's an exaggeration; she has every anime on Netflix in the Instant Queue, but I watch more of those, too.

- I know what a philtrum is. The mind boggles at how frequently this term has come up in our relationship.

- I need to consciously restrain myself from making a kissy noise and saying "I love you" every time I'm getting off the phone with anybody at work.

- I let my facial hair have free run of my face. I still shave on occasion, but the pouty face and dejected "meow" I get in return are the driving factors behind why my chiseled jawline primarily stays ensconced in fur year-round.

- I've become more sensitive. I used to be a cold snowman, switching off my emotions as a defense mechanism any time I read a tragic news article, heard about some outrageous inequality, witnessed anything deeply unsettling—I might've gotten emotional about my personal life, but I taught myself to resist feeling anything about things that didn't affect me personally. Too much pain and anger in this life to get worked up about more of it than necessary. My wife weeps for every plane crash, bleeds for every person unfairly denied the same benefits and privileges the rest of us get. I've started to reopen my heart to people in situations beyond my control, praying more earnestly for those I've never met; though it hurts sometimes, it makes me feel more human.

The list goes on. Funny to think about how much the people in a relationship can shape each other. You hardly notice until you take a step back and consider how much you've changed. Extended exposure to anything makes an impact on us, one way or another. Better for compatible people to gradually become more like each other, I think, than to lose your identity trying to conform to someone with whom you're not compatible—unless you don't like the person you are in the first place.

The woman I love brings out the best in me, or at least the silly and innocuously different in me. I know I do the same for her. We may not be identical, but we don't have to be—this relationship works, in no small part, because we naturally compliment and balance each other in our similarities and our differences. Sometimes it just sounds like we're meowing at each other, but that's a sign we're growing toward each other as the years go by.