I never watch movies that are dubbed. I also don't like it when Japanese characters speak in English to each other like in Hollywood films (which I think often fail to distinguish between Japan and China).
I mean, obviously, it's impossible to express the fragility, gracefulness, politeness etc. of the Japanese language in English. A Japanese cannot be quite Japanese without speaking in Japanese.
I think when you speak fluently in a foreign language, you lose something of your own culture that is embedded in your mother tongue. When the foreign language takes over your thoughts, it kills all the cultural and non-cultural concepts that are reliant to your native language. At least, that's the only way I can explain how my personality slightly changes when I express myself in English.
Zwick, when talking about DiCaprio's accent in Blood Diamond, said dialect had an effect over a creation of a character. It apparently allows an actor to be as different from himself as he could be based on the fact that he sounds utterly different. It's a freedom someone often gets from speaking in a foreign language. There's a French expression that says"to possess another language is to possess another soul (複数の言語を所有するものは複数の魂を所有する)". Zwick thought that happened to actors acting in dialect.
So if you can't possess two souls at the same time, you lose a soul while your other soul takes over. That's what I used to think. But Woody Allen makes one of his characters in Vicky Christina Barcelona explain that his father refuses to speak any other language than Spanish. He's a poet and he writes the most beautiful sentences in the Spanish language but doesn't believe that a poet should pollute his words by any other tongue. I never thought my Japanese soul and English soul polluted each other, but maybe they do. My English character probably does show sometimes when I'm speaking in Japanese and vice versa.
As a related topic, works by Haruki Murakami sound great to me when translated, not because it still sounds Japanese but because the western flavor of English goes well with his works. Murakami's quirky humor is not quite Japanese in the first place, and his characters' speeches sometimes even sound like they're translated from English when I read the original piece in Japanese. They're simple, witty, and sarcastic - the impression I get from the English language.
It intrigues me how languages can effect or even define a character. In the end, we're made of our thoughts and our thoughts are made of our language.
2013年4月28日日曜日
the family stone
I liked the last scene where the framed photo of Sybil appears behind the Christmas tree. She has already passed away, but in the picture, she has Amy in her stomach. And when you look at it closely, the cover glass reflects the figure of Amy kissing her boyfriend. It exactly overlaps Sybil's stomach where Amy was, and I thought it was a very nice ending.
Another thing that sort of stuck in my mind was what Meredith said during dinner. I think she has a point when she says she doesn't think anyone wishes for their children to be gay. I don't think gay people are "challenged", but as she says, life is already hard enough as it is and most people wouldn't want to make it anymore difficult for their child.
On a side note, there are lots of transgendered TV personalities in Japan and they always look cheerful, but I sometimes imagine the pain behind their smile. Of course it's not only them; everyone has something. And we get used to it. But when I see their passion towards life, I sort of think the suffering they've gone through is at the root of it.
2013年4月27日土曜日
ordinary life
Last term, I had a classmate named C. We worked in the same group for four months during anatomy. He had failed the class more than twice and apparently, last year had been his last chance. No one really knew why he had failed.
He knew a lot about bones and he was good at peeling human skin. He knew exactly where to find the nerves; it was as though he was wearing special glasses that showed him where they were. We all respected him.
But then around the time we started dissecting the brain, we began to realize that he didn't necessarily know everything. He seemed to pretend he knew things he didn't. When he was asked to do a sketch, he would submit the same thing over and over, no matter what the professor said. The title would say nerves but the main thing in his picture would be muscles colored in pink and purple. Soon, he missed a class. One of the professors came to tell us that he was "delicate" and that we should support him.
He didn't miss too many classes after that, but he would come to the lab sometimes to just sit there. He would hold a pen instead of a knife and check off his list of must-remember muscles or organs while other members of the group bent over the corpse for hours and did their tasks.
Once when I was in line to wash the knives and tweezers and whatnot, he came and stood in line with me to wash a container. When our turn came, we started washing side by side. He finished in five seconds while it took me five minutes. He didn't offer help; he just walked away and went back to the table to wait. But I knew he wasn't being mean or anything. It just didn't occur to him that I would be happy if he had helped me.
On another occasion we dissected the digestive organs together (he actually came out of nowhere to help me, only because he had been in charge of them for the past couple years). He stood next to me with a hose in his hand and watched while I cut the intestines. He would kindly tell me once in a while that I should wash my hands because I had poop on them. I asked him if he could make more water come out of the hose so I could wash the intestines rather than my hands. It took him ages. He kept instructing me to put all the organs into one container so I wouldn't mess the table. Soon, I realized the whole group of organs had stool all over so asked him if everything looked alright. He didn't mind the organs getting messy (as long as the table was safe). After all, it had been his third time to wash intestines.
When a guy asked how many meters of intestines that amounted to, he laughed and answered maybe as long as the earth's equator. Really? So all you do is poop washing? C just laughed again. It seemed to me like he never really saw what was behind people's words.
But he had a girlfriend of seven years who apparently called him Darling (kind of cheesy and mushy in Japanese). He told us about her during Christmas dinner after catch-up anatomy; he had actually come in late because of a date he had had the night before. He even told us where he was planning to propose to her and how he was almost ready if only he could pass anatomy. He dreamed of living an ordinary life with her. They would have kids and when they grew up, he would retire and enjoy his life a couple of years and die. He was already in med school but becoming a doctor was still his "dream". Everything he said, he was serious about.
When I found out that he had passed anatomy, I was thrilled. Maybe I feel kind of sorry for his future patients but when I remembered what he had told us about his life on Christmas, I felt happy for him. Lately, I heard he had failed another test and was repeating another year, but every time I see him walking alone by the library or eating alone in the canteen hunching over his tray, I still hope he will find a good life - the ordinary life he dreams of.
He knew a lot about bones and he was good at peeling human skin. He knew exactly where to find the nerves; it was as though he was wearing special glasses that showed him where they were. We all respected him.
But then around the time we started dissecting the brain, we began to realize that he didn't necessarily know everything. He seemed to pretend he knew things he didn't. When he was asked to do a sketch, he would submit the same thing over and over, no matter what the professor said. The title would say nerves but the main thing in his picture would be muscles colored in pink and purple. Soon, he missed a class. One of the professors came to tell us that he was "delicate" and that we should support him.
He didn't miss too many classes after that, but he would come to the lab sometimes to just sit there. He would hold a pen instead of a knife and check off his list of must-remember muscles or organs while other members of the group bent over the corpse for hours and did their tasks.
Once when I was in line to wash the knives and tweezers and whatnot, he came and stood in line with me to wash a container. When our turn came, we started washing side by side. He finished in five seconds while it took me five minutes. He didn't offer help; he just walked away and went back to the table to wait. But I knew he wasn't being mean or anything. It just didn't occur to him that I would be happy if he had helped me.
On another occasion we dissected the digestive organs together (he actually came out of nowhere to help me, only because he had been in charge of them for the past couple years). He stood next to me with a hose in his hand and watched while I cut the intestines. He would kindly tell me once in a while that I should wash my hands because I had poop on them. I asked him if he could make more water come out of the hose so I could wash the intestines rather than my hands. It took him ages. He kept instructing me to put all the organs into one container so I wouldn't mess the table. Soon, I realized the whole group of organs had stool all over so asked him if everything looked alright. He didn't mind the organs getting messy (as long as the table was safe). After all, it had been his third time to wash intestines.
When a guy asked how many meters of intestines that amounted to, he laughed and answered maybe as long as the earth's equator. Really? So all you do is poop washing? C just laughed again. It seemed to me like he never really saw what was behind people's words.
But he had a girlfriend of seven years who apparently called him Darling (kind of cheesy and mushy in Japanese). He told us about her during Christmas dinner after catch-up anatomy; he had actually come in late because of a date he had had the night before. He even told us where he was planning to propose to her and how he was almost ready if only he could pass anatomy. He dreamed of living an ordinary life with her. They would have kids and when they grew up, he would retire and enjoy his life a couple of years and die. He was already in med school but becoming a doctor was still his "dream". Everything he said, he was serious about.
When I found out that he had passed anatomy, I was thrilled. Maybe I feel kind of sorry for his future patients but when I remembered what he had told us about his life on Christmas, I felt happy for him. Lately, I heard he had failed another test and was repeating another year, but every time I see him walking alone by the library or eating alone in the canteen hunching over his tray, I still hope he will find a good life - the ordinary life he dreams of.
2013年4月26日金曜日
working in the third world
I used to dream of working in a field that helped poor people in the third world. I wanted to save these unlucky people who had to live a tough life just because they were born in an underdeveloped part of the world.
Fastforward ten years and I'm still interested in working in a developing country, but it's not because I want to save anybody. It's more about myself. People are never really desperate to live in an advanced country like Japan, unless they're suffering a fatal disease or something of that kind. In a place where you have to walk 10km a day to get clean water, people are desperate regardless of whether they are aware of it or not. They have the strength and patience all humans used to have. I think it's something primitive yet fundamental about being a human, and I want to observe and feel that desperateness I would probably never encounter in Japan.
I happened to have a conversation about this with a couple of friends today, and we were all a bit hesitant about working in a developing country especially after all the microbe classes.
The thought sort of reminded me of what Edward Zwick had said when he explained about Blood Diamond - how they had actually lived in Africa for two years to make the film. He had interviewed many people and had done a lot of research to make the film as realistic as possible. He said it was great that actors from all over the world all came together to find there was actually one common language for actors and "that had to do with telling the truth".
I understand they know more about Africa than people who have never been there. I know he just meant they all had the passion to learn the truth and express what they interpreted as the truth. That itself is very impressive. But at the same time, I thought it was impossible for them to tell the truth. And the reason is pretty much what Leonardo DiCaprio says to Jennifer Connelly in the film:
You come here with your laptop computer and your malaria medicine and your little bottles of hand sanitizer. Think you're gonna change the outcome, huh? Let me tell you something. You sell blood diamonds too.
I don't want to be too cynical; I don't think that the film makers were selling/exploiting tragedy, but I couldn't help imagining Zwick living in a safe nice apartment building, and DiCaprio relaxing in a jacuzzi after shooting in the jungles.
"It's a world where life is lived down the street. In America, you see nothing around, you don't see old people or babies, you don't see death or sexuality, and there (in Africa), it's all in front of you, every step of the way. The experience of being in the midst of it and being so confronted by poverty and disease found its way out on to the film. It's in the performances."
I thought it was the opposite. They might've witnessed everything, but I don't think they were quite "in the midst" of it. And it showed in the lukewarmness of fiction.
When a doctor decides to work in a place like Africa, she will still be just a foreigner with her malaria medicine and hand sanitizer; she might be not that different from Zwick, but in the end, I think she has to be ready to die in that country. I don't mean to make it sound over dramatic, I just guess it's pretty obvious that actually getting into the picture more or less takes more courage than making a sketch of the scene from the outside.
Fastforward ten years and I'm still interested in working in a developing country, but it's not because I want to save anybody. It's more about myself. People are never really desperate to live in an advanced country like Japan, unless they're suffering a fatal disease or something of that kind. In a place where you have to walk 10km a day to get clean water, people are desperate regardless of whether they are aware of it or not. They have the strength and patience all humans used to have. I think it's something primitive yet fundamental about being a human, and I want to observe and feel that desperateness I would probably never encounter in Japan.
I happened to have a conversation about this with a couple of friends today, and we were all a bit hesitant about working in a developing country especially after all the microbe classes.
The thought sort of reminded me of what Edward Zwick had said when he explained about Blood Diamond - how they had actually lived in Africa for two years to make the film. He had interviewed many people and had done a lot of research to make the film as realistic as possible. He said it was great that actors from all over the world all came together to find there was actually one common language for actors and "that had to do with telling the truth".
I understand they know more about Africa than people who have never been there. I know he just meant they all had the passion to learn the truth and express what they interpreted as the truth. That itself is very impressive. But at the same time, I thought it was impossible for them to tell the truth. And the reason is pretty much what Leonardo DiCaprio says to Jennifer Connelly in the film:
You come here with your laptop computer and your malaria medicine and your little bottles of hand sanitizer. Think you're gonna change the outcome, huh? Let me tell you something. You sell blood diamonds too.
I don't want to be too cynical; I don't think that the film makers were selling/exploiting tragedy, but I couldn't help imagining Zwick living in a safe nice apartment building, and DiCaprio relaxing in a jacuzzi after shooting in the jungles.
"It's a world where life is lived down the street. In America, you see nothing around, you don't see old people or babies, you don't see death or sexuality, and there (in Africa), it's all in front of you, every step of the way. The experience of being in the midst of it and being so confronted by poverty and disease found its way out on to the film. It's in the performances."
I thought it was the opposite. They might've witnessed everything, but I don't think they were quite "in the midst" of it. And it showed in the lukewarmness of fiction.
When a doctor decides to work in a place like Africa, she will still be just a foreigner with her malaria medicine and hand sanitizer; she might be not that different from Zwick, but in the end, I think she has to be ready to die in that country. I don't mean to make it sound over dramatic, I just guess it's pretty obvious that actually getting into the picture more or less takes more courage than making a sketch of the scene from the outside.
2013年4月25日木曜日
bad luck
Some illnesses can be caused by your own fault. But there are some that you get out of sheer bad luck. Epilepsy can be one of them.
A couple of years ago, there were two car accidents, one after another, caused by young men with epilepsy, and epileptics became a sudden danger to the society. One of the accidents was caused by a professional crane driver in his early twenties who happened to have a seizure during work. He killed a couple of children heading for school early in the morning. Today, the court demanded the former driver and his mother (who had paid for her son's driving school and whatnot knowing that he had epilepsy and was thus at risk of causing accidents) to pay 120 million yen to the victims and their family.
I definitely feel sorry for the victims. The driver should've chosen a different job. He must've had other options. Many other.
But what if he hadn't? It's not like the country has special support for people with epilepsy. Epileptics also need a job. And it's not even their fault that they have epilepsy. It was just bad luck.
So I think the judgement was pretty bitter for the driver and his mother. I wouldn't say the children were killed as an inevitable social sacrifice to support this young man with epilepsy, but I sometimes think it's unfair that patients who have no reason to be blamed for their illness have to bear their expenses. Of course it's not only epileptics that suffer bad luck. Everyone learns to cope and live with their own problems.
Still, I kind of dream of a society that distributes personal burdens that come from bad luck. There are already some systems that enables that, but the two car accidents maybe showed that it's not enough. Punishing epileptic drivers might not take us anywhere until we learn to support each other.
A couple of years ago, there were two car accidents, one after another, caused by young men with epilepsy, and epileptics became a sudden danger to the society. One of the accidents was caused by a professional crane driver in his early twenties who happened to have a seizure during work. He killed a couple of children heading for school early in the morning. Today, the court demanded the former driver and his mother (who had paid for her son's driving school and whatnot knowing that he had epilepsy and was thus at risk of causing accidents) to pay 120 million yen to the victims and their family.
I definitely feel sorry for the victims. The driver should've chosen a different job. He must've had other options. Many other.
But what if he hadn't? It's not like the country has special support for people with epilepsy. Epileptics also need a job. And it's not even their fault that they have epilepsy. It was just bad luck.
So I think the judgement was pretty bitter for the driver and his mother. I wouldn't say the children were killed as an inevitable social sacrifice to support this young man with epilepsy, but I sometimes think it's unfair that patients who have no reason to be blamed for their illness have to bear their expenses. Of course it's not only epileptics that suffer bad luck. Everyone learns to cope and live with their own problems.
Still, I kind of dream of a society that distributes personal burdens that come from bad luck. There are already some systems that enables that, but the two car accidents maybe showed that it's not enough. Punishing epileptic drivers might not take us anywhere until we learn to support each other.
2013年4月24日水曜日
still not asking for it
I just read a blog post about the rape issue in India. A lot of demonstrations have been held in Delhi, including one with scarcely dressed women with placards saying "still not asking for it". It reminded me of what I wrote back in March about molestations in Japan: here.
Of course they're not asking for it. Who on earth asks anyone to rape them and throw them out of a bus naked? No one. But when girls dress like they're naked, they're definitely increasing the risk of being raped. We all know that men are not necessarily good at controlling themselves. We're not living in a fantastic wonderland with only good people.
Of course everyone has the right to dress (or not dress) the way they prefer. If any guy rapes a girl, HE is the one to be blamed, even if the girl had been naked.
But let's be realistic. It takes tremendous will power for guys to control themselves in front of a naked girl. Most of them manage; some of them find no problem. But some will fail. This is an unchanging fact unless we decide to castrate all men and kill their sex drive. No demonstration, no law, no punishment can change that. Shouting out naked that you're still not asking for it will not change this reality. We all know that.
So why don't we make it obvious that we're not asking for it? Being naked does not help these poor guys with poor self-control. Girls, when they're naked, can be naked because they're asking for it.
I personally don't think insisting that being naked doesn't necessarily mean you're asking for it is an effective way to fight against rape. THEY ALREADY KNOW. Men who sympathize with this kind of demonstration wouldn't rape anyone in the first place. The only effective way, if there's any, to fight against rapists, is not to dress like you're naked.
On a side note, I actually find it interesting that India has had powerful female political leaders and yet still has many problems regarding women's rights.
Of course they're not asking for it. Who on earth asks anyone to rape them and throw them out of a bus naked? No one. But when girls dress like they're naked, they're definitely increasing the risk of being raped. We all know that men are not necessarily good at controlling themselves. We're not living in a fantastic wonderland with only good people.
Of course everyone has the right to dress (or not dress) the way they prefer. If any guy rapes a girl, HE is the one to be blamed, even if the girl had been naked.
But let's be realistic. It takes tremendous will power for guys to control themselves in front of a naked girl. Most of them manage; some of them find no problem. But some will fail. This is an unchanging fact unless we decide to castrate all men and kill their sex drive. No demonstration, no law, no punishment can change that. Shouting out naked that you're still not asking for it will not change this reality. We all know that.
So why don't we make it obvious that we're not asking for it? Being naked does not help these poor guys with poor self-control. Girls, when they're naked, can be naked because they're asking for it.
I personally don't think insisting that being naked doesn't necessarily mean you're asking for it is an effective way to fight against rape. THEY ALREADY KNOW. Men who sympathize with this kind of demonstration wouldn't rape anyone in the first place. The only effective way, if there's any, to fight against rapists, is not to dress like you're naked.
On a side note, I actually find it interesting that India has had powerful female political leaders and yet still has many problems regarding women's rights.
2013年4月22日月曜日
silenced
Togani
"We didn't fight to change the world. We fought not to be changed by the world."
A story of accusation against school teachers who sexually abused children with auditory difficulties. Based on a true story.
If everything was true, Korean judiciary is rotten to the core. Everyone, even the prosecutor became an accomplice in the end - money and promotion all smothered up the truth. We do need money to protect our own family, we can't always live for justice, but there are certain things you can't pretend you didn't see. I couldn't believe anyone on earth could be so nasty and rotten. If the judiciary was bribed, who protects the rights of the people?
A fair judiciary without corruption is one of the most important elements of a civilized country. If Korea is not yet quite an "advanced country", their judiciary system is definitely one reason. If I were ever caught up in a crime, I hope it wouldn't be while visiting Korea.
Update: Apparently, the film turned out to be a great hit and eventually led to revisions and enactments of the law to protect disabled people and women. The teachers were sentenced to 12 years in prison and the school was closed.
"We didn't fight to change the world. We fought not to be changed by the world."
A story of accusation against school teachers who sexually abused children with auditory difficulties. Based on a true story.
If everything was true, Korean judiciary is rotten to the core. Everyone, even the prosecutor became an accomplice in the end - money and promotion all smothered up the truth. We do need money to protect our own family, we can't always live for justice, but there are certain things you can't pretend you didn't see. I couldn't believe anyone on earth could be so nasty and rotten. If the judiciary was bribed, who protects the rights of the people?
A fair judiciary without corruption is one of the most important elements of a civilized country. If Korea is not yet quite an "advanced country", their judiciary system is definitely one reason. If I were ever caught up in a crime, I hope it wouldn't be while visiting Korea.
Update: Apparently, the film turned out to be a great hit and eventually led to revisions and enactments of the law to protect disabled people and women. The teachers were sentenced to 12 years in prison and the school was closed.
2013年4月21日日曜日
brokeback mountain
"...there was another shirt inside it, the sleeves carefully worked down inside Jack's sleeves. It was his own plaid shirt, lost, he'd thought, long ago in some damn laundry... ...stolen by Jack and hidden here inside Jack's own shirt, the pair like two skins, one inside the other, two in one. He pressed his face into the fabric and breathed in... ...but there was no real scent, only the memory of it, the imagined power of Brokeback Mountain of which nothing was left but what he held in his hands."
It was amazing that so little words could convey so much. Borrowed the book from a friend. She recommended the film too, but it was a bit surprising to me that this story was one of her favorites. She's a nice person with a great sense of humor but I sometimes have a hard time understanding her.
Like the other day, she said she'd never experienced regret. I just kept the conversation going, but the remark stuck with me for days. I mean, she's more than ten years older than me and she has never experienced regret. If that was true, I feel kind of sorry for her in a way. A life without regret is like a chocolate without cacao. White chocolate is good too, but the cacao is what makes the other ingredients tastier. If she hadn't really meant what she'd said, I feel sorry for her either way.
"Brokeback Mountain is the sad chronology of a love affair between two men who can't afford to call it that. They know what they're not - not queer, not gay - but have no idea what they are."
There is a obvious smell of regret especially towards the end. I don't know how my friend could've liked this story without knowing regret. But for some reason, I can sort of picture her doing what Alma did to confirm her doubts - the part where she tied a note on the fishing rod she found with the price tag still on after five years. That part was pretty hearbreaking actually. Hello Ennis, bring some fish home, love, Alma. She knew what exactly he was fishing.
It really was a sad story.
"There was some open space between what he knew and what he tried to believe, but nothing could be done about it, and if you can't fix it you've got to stand it."
It was amazing that so little words could convey so much. Borrowed the book from a friend. She recommended the film too, but it was a bit surprising to me that this story was one of her favorites. She's a nice person with a great sense of humor but I sometimes have a hard time understanding her.
Like the other day, she said she'd never experienced regret. I just kept the conversation going, but the remark stuck with me for days. I mean, she's more than ten years older than me and she has never experienced regret. If that was true, I feel kind of sorry for her in a way. A life without regret is like a chocolate without cacao. White chocolate is good too, but the cacao is what makes the other ingredients tastier. If she hadn't really meant what she'd said, I feel sorry for her either way.
"Brokeback Mountain is the sad chronology of a love affair between two men who can't afford to call it that. They know what they're not - not queer, not gay - but have no idea what they are."
There is a obvious smell of regret especially towards the end. I don't know how my friend could've liked this story without knowing regret. But for some reason, I can sort of picture her doing what Alma did to confirm her doubts - the part where she tied a note on the fishing rod she found with the price tag still on after five years. That part was pretty hearbreaking actually. Hello Ennis, bring some fish home, love, Alma. She knew what exactly he was fishing.
It really was a sad story.
"There was some open space between what he knew and what he tried to believe, but nothing could be done about it, and if you can't fix it you've got to stand it."
2013年4月20日土曜日
intouchables
"Doesn't it make you feel bad to have to be supported?"
This is what Phillipe, paralyzed below the neck asks Driss who is in need of unemployment insurance. Phillipe has more than enough money to help Driss, Driss has a strong body to help Phillipe. The two become great buddies.
The story was American-ish but the seasoning was French, if that makes sense. Maybe the taste of music was what made it distinctly "French" - smart and sophisticated with a tinge of sadness.
But Driss's vulgarity was pretty funny - his lines that wouldn't have been that bad in English sounded really vulgar in French for some reason. In one of the less vulgar scenes where Phillipe asks Driss to give him a chocolate, Driss says no. "These are for ordinary people. Disabled people can't have this." He says it's just a joke when Phillipe stares back at him. He jokes around some more before finally giving Phillipe the chocolate. It was nasty; I wouldn't have laughed if it hadn't been for the conversation that sort of led to the joke, but Phillipe likes Driss. "He doesn't feel sorry for me. He always forgets I'm paralyzed. Like when he tries to hand me the phone." When Driss says he would die if he were ever paralyzed below the neck, Phillipe simply replies that it's pretty difficult for people like him to even die.
When Mr. Ototake, a limbless school teacher was once asked about "leg-chopping" (in Japan, each university has its own entrance exam but you're required to take the center exam (which is sort of like the SAT) and score more than a certain level to be qualified to take exams for top universities. We say you're "leg-chopped" when a university doesn't accept your application because your center exam score isn't enough), he laughed and said, "Well, I was born leg-chopped in the first place." Many parents with disabled children criticized this joke. Mr. Ototake said comedians joked about their weight, their baldness, their pimpled faces. Why couldn't he joke about his nonexistent leg? "Why is it a taboo? The fact that people consider it a taboo - that is what you call discrimination."
There are things in life you just shouldn't joke about. Anyone has wounds they don't want other people to touch. But maybe it's sometimes the worst when we feel too sorry for someone, or find him/his situation too "untouchable" that we can't even laugh when he himself is making a joke about it.
2013年4月18日木曜日
democracy
Aung San Suu Kyi is visiting Japan right now:
"I am soon turning 68 years old, but I have never fought in a free or fair election. There are places in the world where you have to fight for it for decades. Please do not be indifferent to elections just because they come regularly."
"I am soon turning 68 years old, but I have never fought in a free or fair election. There are places in the world where you have to fight for it for decades. Please do not be indifferent to elections just because they come regularly."
2013年4月17日水曜日
prejudice
HIV is no longer a fatal disease as long as you have access to proper medicine. I thought all Japanese patients were treated before they progressed to AIDS but found out today during class that that was not true. Many people in the province who think they are infected are hesitant to get checked because they are afraid that they would be ostracized. If they go to the health center, they would most likely meet someone they know, and everything will spread over night. They try to keep it a secret until things are too late. It's really sad that there are so many medicines to save them and yet they can't get access because of prejudice.
On a side note, it is said that there are around 100,000 HIV patients in Japan. It costs 200 million yen to treat a patient a lifetime. They're all probably going to be able to afford it because Japan has medical insurance for the whole nation, but I wonder if the country can afford it, or even if it's fair... I guess it's not only HIV; it's difficult to evaluate whether it was an individual's fault that he got a certain illness, and I'm not against the idea of insurance - everyone should have equal access to medicine, but I guess there's always that problem - moral hazard. When it comes to health issues, I guess people already have the incentive to take care of themselves with or without insurance, but it does seem kind of odd to picture a workaholic who has no time for sex supporting a treatment of someone who got HIV because of a wild love life.
Now I realize this is exactly the kind of prejudice that has to be abolished. Not everyone gets HIV because of repeated risky behavior. It might've been me or my friend if we'd been unfortunate. Some people may say they never ever take risks, but I personally prefer to live in a society tolerant to mistakes.
On a side note, it is said that there are around 100,000 HIV patients in Japan. It costs 200 million yen to treat a patient a lifetime. They're all probably going to be able to afford it because Japan has medical insurance for the whole nation, but I wonder if the country can afford it, or even if it's fair... I guess it's not only HIV; it's difficult to evaluate whether it was an individual's fault that he got a certain illness, and I'm not against the idea of insurance - everyone should have equal access to medicine, but I guess there's always that problem - moral hazard. When it comes to health issues, I guess people already have the incentive to take care of themselves with or without insurance, but it does seem kind of odd to picture a workaholic who has no time for sex supporting a treatment of someone who got HIV because of a wild love life.
Now I realize this is exactly the kind of prejudice that has to be abolished. Not everyone gets HIV because of repeated risky behavior. It might've been me or my friend if we'd been unfortunate. Some people may say they never ever take risks, but I personally prefer to live in a society tolerant to mistakes.
2013年4月15日月曜日
letting go
I started taking piano lessons when I was four. I used to play the white piano in the living room (the previous owner had painted it white) maybe not every day, but often enough to impress friendly guests. My mom was pretty strict; she sat by my side and watched me practice. It was only a couple of times, but she hit me when I lost my temper and started crying during our practice sessions.
When we moved back to Japan, my parents bought me a brand new piano. A black one with a silent mode so I could practice whenever I wanted. My mom no longer sat beside me. She came with me for lessons but eventually, I learned to get on the train by myself. I don't know how many pieces I practiced. Burgmuller, Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Chopin... I sat in front of the piano and practiced until I graduated high school.
I stopped playing when I got in college. The guitar I had started in high school had become my new mate. A couple of years later, my dad asked if he could sell the piano. "Do you realize how much space it's taking? You don't even play it anymore."
I asked him to wait. My mom said he was cold-hearted. "How could you say such a thing; it's full of memories!"
"Memories? But she doesn't play it anymore." You could see he didn't give a damn about our memories.
I read a book about 断捨離(dan-sha-ri) yesterday, and the above incident suddenly came back to me. As far as I know, my piano is still lying in the living room back at home. But according to the dan-sha-ri spirit, my dad's suggestion of selling it seems like a very good idea.
The kanji in dan-sha-ri all represent similar concepts: 断(to stop), 捨(to throw away), 離(to part). When put together, they mean "letting go". It's a way of life that helps you accept yourself the way you are. All you have to do is throw away everything that you don't need. The things that surround you all represent your thoughts and feelings as well as concepts you acquire over time. We usually don't realize it but there are many things that are actually unnecessary to us.
When you have something (or some concept, or some kind of connection) you want to throw away but still feel like you can't, it's important to think about why you don't want to throw it away, because when you see the reason, the meaning of keeping that certain thing can disappear. You might see yourself being obsessed with your past glories/regrets or what other people think.
Dan-sha-ri is a process of getting yourself back. Abundance spoils your ability to sense what you truly value. When you practice dan-sha-ri, you realize who you really are. The focus is not on the thing you're about to throw away (or keep) but your current self. It's about what you want/need now.
One of the common reasons why it can be hard to throw an item away is because the standard is your past/future self. You want to throw it away but you can't either because it was something that meant so much to you *in the past*, or because you might really need it *in the future* (in which case you might be even choosing a future that requires that item - and no, the writer was not just talking about her deceased father's portable toilet her mother was obsessed about).
It's important to focus on the present because you're not living the past or the future. A pretty obvious fact. But there's always the anxiety that you may never be able to get that item again once you let it go (be it materials/data you use at work, pictures of your ex, or a stamp collection you started when you were a kid). That's because we unconsciously paint our future with anxiety. When an item reminds us of happy moments, we think we might forget them once we throw it away, or that we may never encounter that kind of moment again. In the future, you might never have the same energy to gather the materials you're about to throw away. The past seems like the best because we don't trust our future.
But trusting our future is not the same as having high expectations. Your future is always something neutral. It's just a blank canvas that can turn into any color
Then how can you trust that blank canvas? The key is to trust yourself. Then how do you do that? Dan-sha-ri says one way is to surround yourself with what you feel comfortable. If something makes you feel uncomfortable, accept that negative feeling and let it go. Through dan-sha-ri, you will realize what is really valuable to you, and by surrounding yourself with what is left, you will find a sense of confidence.
When you make decisions, you must be true to yourself. We all tend to think what is good, what it bad, what is right, what is wrong - our brain gets in the way. But it's always best to listen to what your heart says.
By practicing dan-sha-ri, you let go of things and in turn get yourself back. You become free. Free from all the human ties, concepts and expectations. It will help you live yourself in the moment, and eventually enable you to accept things the way they are. You will be okay no matter what happens.
So... what should I do about my piano? Let my dad throw it away? My dad probably doesn't even know the word dan-sha-ri, but his whole character is sort of dan-sha-ri-ish. He knows what he likes and what he wants. He is ready to accept any consequence once he makes a choice.
I might try dan-sha-ri for a while and see what happens.
When we moved back to Japan, my parents bought me a brand new piano. A black one with a silent mode so I could practice whenever I wanted. My mom no longer sat beside me. She came with me for lessons but eventually, I learned to get on the train by myself. I don't know how many pieces I practiced. Burgmuller, Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Chopin... I sat in front of the piano and practiced until I graduated high school.
I stopped playing when I got in college. The guitar I had started in high school had become my new mate. A couple of years later, my dad asked if he could sell the piano. "Do you realize how much space it's taking? You don't even play it anymore."
I asked him to wait. My mom said he was cold-hearted. "How could you say such a thing; it's full of memories!"
"Memories? But she doesn't play it anymore." You could see he didn't give a damn about our memories.
I read a book about 断捨離(dan-sha-ri) yesterday, and the above incident suddenly came back to me. As far as I know, my piano is still lying in the living room back at home. But according to the dan-sha-ri spirit, my dad's suggestion of selling it seems like a very good idea.
The kanji in dan-sha-ri all represent similar concepts: 断(to stop), 捨(to throw away), 離(to part). When put together, they mean "letting go". It's a way of life that helps you accept yourself the way you are. All you have to do is throw away everything that you don't need. The things that surround you all represent your thoughts and feelings as well as concepts you acquire over time. We usually don't realize it but there are many things that are actually unnecessary to us.
When you have something (or some concept, or some kind of connection) you want to throw away but still feel like you can't, it's important to think about why you don't want to throw it away, because when you see the reason, the meaning of keeping that certain thing can disappear. You might see yourself being obsessed with your past glories/regrets or what other people think.
Dan-sha-ri is a process of getting yourself back. Abundance spoils your ability to sense what you truly value. When you practice dan-sha-ri, you realize who you really are. The focus is not on the thing you're about to throw away (or keep) but your current self. It's about what you want/need now.
One of the common reasons why it can be hard to throw an item away is because the standard is your past/future self. You want to throw it away but you can't either because it was something that meant so much to you *in the past*, or because you might really need it *in the future* (in which case you might be even choosing a future that requires that item - and no, the writer was not just talking about her deceased father's portable toilet her mother was obsessed about).
It's important to focus on the present because you're not living the past or the future. A pretty obvious fact. But there's always the anxiety that you may never be able to get that item again once you let it go (be it materials/data you use at work, pictures of your ex, or a stamp collection you started when you were a kid). That's because we unconsciously paint our future with anxiety. When an item reminds us of happy moments, we think we might forget them once we throw it away, or that we may never encounter that kind of moment again. In the future, you might never have the same energy to gather the materials you're about to throw away. The past seems like the best because we don't trust our future.
But trusting our future is not the same as having high expectations. Your future is always something neutral. It's just a blank canvas that can turn into any color
Then how can you trust that blank canvas? The key is to trust yourself. Then how do you do that? Dan-sha-ri says one way is to surround yourself with what you feel comfortable. If something makes you feel uncomfortable, accept that negative feeling and let it go. Through dan-sha-ri, you will realize what is really valuable to you, and by surrounding yourself with what is left, you will find a sense of confidence.
When you make decisions, you must be true to yourself. We all tend to think what is good, what it bad, what is right, what is wrong - our brain gets in the way. But it's always best to listen to what your heart says.
By practicing dan-sha-ri, you let go of things and in turn get yourself back. You become free. Free from all the human ties, concepts and expectations. It will help you live yourself in the moment, and eventually enable you to accept things the way they are. You will be okay no matter what happens.
So... what should I do about my piano? Let my dad throw it away? My dad probably doesn't even know the word dan-sha-ri, but his whole character is sort of dan-sha-ri-ish. He knows what he likes and what he wants. He is ready to accept any consequence once he makes a choice.
I might try dan-sha-ri for a while and see what happens.
2013年4月14日日曜日
diaphragm
I just came back from a concert. I actually didn't know the singer very well; there were only two songs that I knew. One of them was this: アイ(Ai=love) To me, it was probably the highlight of the whole concert, not because it was one of his most famous songs but because my diaphragm fell into a fit of convulsions. That's what happens when you try to hold back a cough. The thing is, I caught a cold last Thursday and although I'm recovering, I still sometimes have to cough. And it came when he was almost half way through the song - it was a very quiet song, so it was obvious that a cough would annoy the audiences around me. I didn't know if I would be able to stop it once I started coughing, so I just tried to hold it back, and soon, my diaphragm went into a sort of spasm - or so it felt like. At one point, I thought I was going to throw up or something. Towards the end of the song, all I was thinking was, just hurry up and finish that verse so I can cough. The concert was great nonetheless. And it was a fantastic cough when I was finally able to let it out.
2013年4月13日土曜日
2013年4月12日金曜日
blood diamond
"In America, it's bling-bling, but out here, it's bling-bang, huh?"
A great film with a big message. And not preachy at all.
It was heartwrenching when Archer, injured, took out the diamond from his pocket and looked at it before giving it back to Solomon. It was just a stone. It was so small. He laughs as he realizes what it had cost him. I felt sorry that he had to give up when he was so close - he had gone through so much; the wear was evident in his lines - but at the same time, I thought it was kind of absurd that a mere stone could even be a ticket out of Africa. It was absurd how obssessed people were. But who exactly is obssessed? For them, it was just the money (or weapons) the stone brought to them. Who pays so much for the "bling bling"?
Of course not all diamonds are blood-drenched; they say conflict stones account for only 15% of the market, but how do we know the diamonds we buy are conflict-free? Maybe there is a way to know for sure.
Relating to exploitation, a friend at school was wondering why black people had historically been exploited by white people and not the other way around. Genetically speaking, black people are apparently better than white people. The answer I came up with was that maybe white people worked harder, or more precisely, was forced to do so. The Africans just laid back in the sun and grabbed a fruit that was just there waiting to be eaten while the Europeans thought of ways not to starve during winter. They went out on expeditions to find better land. "Then why do you think the Indians are smart? What was their motivation?"
I'm going to have to look this up!
2013年4月7日日曜日
the reader
"...Have you spent a lot of time thinking about the past?"
"You mean with you?"
"No, I didn't mean with me."
"Before the trial I never thought about the past. I never had to."
"Now. What do you feel now?"
"It doesn't matter what I feel. It doesn't matter what I think. The dead are still dead."
"I wasn't sure what you'd learned."
"Well, I have learned, kid. I've learned to read."
It's actually a pretty heavy combination when you look at each element of the story: a dark secret, the holocaust, a forbidden affair, and an inevitable suicide. The gloomy air of German landscape blends well with the haunting shadows found in the characters. I read the English translation of the novel a couple of years ago. After watching the movie, I still think it's one of the saddest stories I've ever known, yet one of my favorites.
The holocaust is too much of a cruel historical episode to be "used" to describe something, but I felt it was almost like a prop used to depict the complexity of human nature. I think I felt a bit differently when I read the novel. The impression I got was maybe a bit more holocaust centered; it had a stronger color of atonement - something that was to be passed on from generation to generation. And overall, it was a story that offered an explanation (rather than an excuse) of how ordinary people were able to do extraordinarily dreadful things.
In the film, however, the theme of shame/humiliation and moral sense, and maybe dignity stood out more. It reflected the emotions that lies within us all, and the character of Hanna (or Kate Winslet's performance) grasped my heart. No one could justfy what she did. And yet I was moved with sympathy, perhaps because her secret she found so shameful explained it all.
If Michael had revealed the fact that she was illiterate, that would've saved her from a life sentence but would've destroyed her dignity. And he couldn't do that to a woman who had taken his innocence and in turn had given him the most passionate summer in his life. I wonder how much his life would've changed if that memory had stayed as a memory - Hanna always being the capricious thirty year old who took him in her arms.
The part where Michael sends tapes to the imprisoned Hanna is just... overwhelming. But there's also something hopeless about the "reading", and it's not at all a simple heart-lifting moment when Hanna, with the tapes and a book, finally learns to read her first word. It's even almost heartbreaking when Michael recieves a handwritten letter from her.
Had there been a way for Hanna to be forgiven? To me, it seemed like she was looking for some kind of chance to be saved when she met Michael at the canteen - as if she expected that he would not define her by her mistake. It looked like she still had things to say when he left her, except that she didn't know what or how to say it. She almost looked like a child at loss, abandoned by her father.
In the end, I guess it's sometimes the smallest things like a single secret or a summer's first love that become the biggest things in our life.
On a side note, the Japanese title of this film/novel is 愛を読む人 which literally means "the person who reads love". It sounds kind of sentimental in English, but I like the depth it has in Japanese.
"You mean with you?"
"No, I didn't mean with me."
"Before the trial I never thought about the past. I never had to."
"Now. What do you feel now?"
"It doesn't matter what I feel. It doesn't matter what I think. The dead are still dead."
"I wasn't sure what you'd learned."
"Well, I have learned, kid. I've learned to read."
It's actually a pretty heavy combination when you look at each element of the story: a dark secret, the holocaust, a forbidden affair, and an inevitable suicide. The gloomy air of German landscape blends well with the haunting shadows found in the characters. I read the English translation of the novel a couple of years ago. After watching the movie, I still think it's one of the saddest stories I've ever known, yet one of my favorites.
The holocaust is too much of a cruel historical episode to be "used" to describe something, but I felt it was almost like a prop used to depict the complexity of human nature. I think I felt a bit differently when I read the novel. The impression I got was maybe a bit more holocaust centered; it had a stronger color of atonement - something that was to be passed on from generation to generation. And overall, it was a story that offered an explanation (rather than an excuse) of how ordinary people were able to do extraordinarily dreadful things.
In the film, however, the theme of shame/humiliation and moral sense, and maybe dignity stood out more. It reflected the emotions that lies within us all, and the character of Hanna (or Kate Winslet's performance) grasped my heart. No one could justfy what she did. And yet I was moved with sympathy, perhaps because her secret she found so shameful explained it all.
If Michael had revealed the fact that she was illiterate, that would've saved her from a life sentence but would've destroyed her dignity. And he couldn't do that to a woman who had taken his innocence and in turn had given him the most passionate summer in his life. I wonder how much his life would've changed if that memory had stayed as a memory - Hanna always being the capricious thirty year old who took him in her arms.
The part where Michael sends tapes to the imprisoned Hanna is just... overwhelming. But there's also something hopeless about the "reading", and it's not at all a simple heart-lifting moment when Hanna, with the tapes and a book, finally learns to read her first word. It's even almost heartbreaking when Michael recieves a handwritten letter from her.
Had there been a way for Hanna to be forgiven? To me, it seemed like she was looking for some kind of chance to be saved when she met Michael at the canteen - as if she expected that he would not define her by her mistake. It looked like she still had things to say when he left her, except that she didn't know what or how to say it. She almost looked like a child at loss, abandoned by her father.
In the end, I guess it's sometimes the smallest things like a single secret or a summer's first love that become the biggest things in our life.
On a side note, the Japanese title of this film/novel is 愛を読む人 which literally means "the person who reads love". It sounds kind of sentimental in English, but I like the depth it has in Japanese.
2013年4月5日金曜日
american beauty
I'd always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second is not a second at all. It stretches on forever like an ocean of time.
For me, it was lying on my back at boyscout camp watching falling stars.
And yellow leaves from the maple trees that lined our street.
Or my grandmother's hands and the way her skin seemed like paper.
And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird.
And Janie. And Janie.
And Carolyn.
I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me. But it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once and it's too much my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst. And then I remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.
You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry. You will someday.
"This is a $4,000 sofa, upholstered in Italian silk. This is not just a couch."
"It's just a couch. This isn't life; this is just stuff. And it's become more important to you than living."
Each character is odd in his/her own way, but they all seemed pretty realistic and human. I often times think things get a bit too sentimental when people start talking about "beauty" but it wasn't bad at all. Though I didn't know exactly what to think about the plastic bag to be honest...
Also, that Jane - I understand she needed more attention, but I thought she sort of deserved it when her mother hit her. There were times back when children respected (or at least bothered to pretend they respected) their parents no matter how selfish they were. I don't know which is better; Ricky and his father had their own problems. But Jane's typical teenager attitude made me think. Maybe because I was a bit like her. Or perhaps because this conversation sounded so familiar:
"Mom, do we always have to listen to this elevator music?"
"No. No, we don't. As soon as you've prepared a nutritious yet savory meal that I'm about to eat, you can listen to whatever you like."
For me, it was lying on my back at boyscout camp watching falling stars.
And yellow leaves from the maple trees that lined our street.
Or my grandmother's hands and the way her skin seemed like paper.
And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird.
And Janie. And Janie.
And Carolyn.
I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me. But it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once and it's too much my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst. And then I remember to relax and stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life.
You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry. You will someday.
"This is a $4,000 sofa, upholstered in Italian silk. This is not just a couch."
"It's just a couch. This isn't life; this is just stuff. And it's become more important to you than living."
Each character is odd in his/her own way, but they all seemed pretty realistic and human. I often times think things get a bit too sentimental when people start talking about "beauty" but it wasn't bad at all. Though I didn't know exactly what to think about the plastic bag to be honest...
Also, that Jane - I understand she needed more attention, but I thought she sort of deserved it when her mother hit her. There were times back when children respected (or at least bothered to pretend they respected) their parents no matter how selfish they were. I don't know which is better; Ricky and his father had their own problems. But Jane's typical teenager attitude made me think. Maybe because I was a bit like her. Or perhaps because this conversation sounded so familiar:
"Mom, do we always have to listen to this elevator music?"
"No. No, we don't. As soon as you've prepared a nutritious yet savory meal that I'm about to eat, you can listen to whatever you like."
2013年4月3日水曜日
to surrender
It's not "giving up" if one reaches a point in the illness where the higher good is to surrender to it. This can bring peace to the soul and a happier exit from life, rather than to resist death all the way to the bitter end and everyone suffers and focuses on nothing but loss.
when the time comes
No matter how much medicine advances, people are going to die in the end. I think it's pretty important how you're going to die, or rather how you're going to live your last days. So what if you're unconscious when the time comes?
There are more and more people in Japan who write their will down in some form to tell their family and the medical staff how they want to die. Many people say they don't want to go through life-prolonging treatment, but still, it is difficult for them to die the way they want. It's not always easy to figure if it was their true will; maybe they were worried they would only cause trouble if they asked for treatment. And even if it were the patient's true will, family members may feel obliged to ask for treatment once they actually face the possibility of the patient's death. Life-prolonging treatment, apparently, gives many families a sense of satisfaction.
An interviewed doctor said he wanted to be confident that natural aging and natural death （人間らしい最期）were things to be valued. But he had asked for life-prolonging treatment when his own father had had a stroke. He didn't know what his father wanted. He still wonders if his decision had been right. This incident made him realize how important it was for family members to ask the patient (or future patient) how he wanted to die, and for them to be mentally prepared for the death of the patient.
Another doctor had asked his patients to fill in a form but had noticed that some of them transferred to different hospitals and died there. His new idea was to make a digital data so all hospitals in the area could share the patients' wills and work together to fulfill each patient's wishes. After having a couple of meetings with other doctors, he improved his original form so that it included parts where the patient could write down what he valued and how he viewed life in general. Family members can read it and decide what to do when/if the patient became unconscious. He said it was indeed the way the patient lived his life （生き方） that counted most when they had to decide for the patient.
"It's difficult to figure what the best ending is for each person, but we should always remember that death is an option - it can be the best ending in some scenarios."
Maybe we somtimes place too much emphasis on the state of being alive （生）; I want to say death isn't the end of the world - it's just another part of life. Still, it's the final part and it is the end of the world. A world disappears when a person dies. There's no rehearsing death. But then again, since when could we rehearse life? I guess there's only one thing we can do: live like there's no tomorrow. Then maybe death (either other's or our own) wouldn't be so frightening.
There are more and more people in Japan who write their will down in some form to tell their family and the medical staff how they want to die. Many people say they don't want to go through life-prolonging treatment, but still, it is difficult for them to die the way they want. It's not always easy to figure if it was their true will; maybe they were worried they would only cause trouble if they asked for treatment. And even if it were the patient's true will, family members may feel obliged to ask for treatment once they actually face the possibility of the patient's death. Life-prolonging treatment, apparently, gives many families a sense of satisfaction.
An interviewed doctor said he wanted to be confident that natural aging and natural death （人間らしい最期）were things to be valued. But he had asked for life-prolonging treatment when his own father had had a stroke. He didn't know what his father wanted. He still wonders if his decision had been right. This incident made him realize how important it was for family members to ask the patient (or future patient) how he wanted to die, and for them to be mentally prepared for the death of the patient.
Another doctor had asked his patients to fill in a form but had noticed that some of them transferred to different hospitals and died there. His new idea was to make a digital data so all hospitals in the area could share the patients' wills and work together to fulfill each patient's wishes. After having a couple of meetings with other doctors, he improved his original form so that it included parts where the patient could write down what he valued and how he viewed life in general. Family members can read it and decide what to do when/if the patient became unconscious. He said it was indeed the way the patient lived his life （生き方） that counted most when they had to decide for the patient.
"It's difficult to figure what the best ending is for each person, but we should always remember that death is an option - it can be the best ending in some scenarios."
Maybe we somtimes place too much emphasis on the state of being alive （生）; I want to say death isn't the end of the world - it's just another part of life. Still, it's the final part and it is the end of the world. A world disappears when a person dies. There's no rehearsing death. But then again, since when could we rehearse life? I guess there's only one thing we can do: live like there's no tomorrow. Then maybe death (either other's or our own) wouldn't be so frightening.
2013年4月1日月曜日
to my sons
Last night, I saw a TV show about an old woman dying of cancer (I forget her name so let's just call her Machiko) and her two sons, Takashi and Taku.
When she finds out that she only has a couple of months left, she decides to escape from the hospital to search for Taku, her younger son who has been MIA after not being able to pay off his debt. Takashi, the older son who has been taking care of her, has always felt that his mother liked Taku better, and is slightly emotional about the fact that it is going to be that way until the end.
When they finally find Taku, Machiko says she wants to go on a trip to Matsushima where they visited with their father (her husband) before he died young in an accident. But the trip is actually for Taku -- so he wouldn't have to suffer and regret about not having done anything for his mother before she dies.
On the way to Matsushima, they end up picking up a random girl who Taku decides to marry later on during the trip, and Machiko insists that they should also drop by Takashi's wife's home where she is staying with her son - she had asked for divorce.
The whole story and the conversations were pretty cheesy until the very end when Takashi gets a text after his mother's death. He's shocked to see that it's from his mother:
Dear Takashi,
By the time you read this, I am not there anymore.
This world filled with hope and warmth may be harsh at times. But please remember to appreciate every small encounter in your life. Your "now" is supported by many many people that you encounter every day.
As you know, Taku has always had a lot of troubles. I know you felt lonely because I was always busy taking care of him. So this last message is only for you - my first special treat for you （あなたへの最初のえこひいきです）.
I'm proud to have had two amazing sons.
Your mother
I admit I'm a sucker for epilogues like this and letters from dead people. It's so sad and heartwarming at the same time. I stopped what I was doing and just cried with Takashi. He now finds that his mother is calling - Machiko had given her cell phone to her daughter in law on the way to Matsushima. Takashi's wife comes to see him and he realizes that the the trip was not only for Taku but also for him. She had wanted to go to Matsushima, but more than that, she had wanted to give Takashi and his wife a chance to reconcile.
I realize I wrote a lot during my break. It was fun and a great stress relief, but school is starting tomorrow. I don't know how frequently I would be able to write. I'll miss writing!
When she finds out that she only has a couple of months left, she decides to escape from the hospital to search for Taku, her younger son who has been MIA after not being able to pay off his debt. Takashi, the older son who has been taking care of her, has always felt that his mother liked Taku better, and is slightly emotional about the fact that it is going to be that way until the end.
When they finally find Taku, Machiko says she wants to go on a trip to Matsushima where they visited with their father (her husband) before he died young in an accident. But the trip is actually for Taku -- so he wouldn't have to suffer and regret about not having done anything for his mother before she dies.
On the way to Matsushima, they end up picking up a random girl who Taku decides to marry later on during the trip, and Machiko insists that they should also drop by Takashi's wife's home where she is staying with her son - she had asked for divorce.
The whole story and the conversations were pretty cheesy until the very end when Takashi gets a text after his mother's death. He's shocked to see that it's from his mother:
Dear Takashi,
By the time you read this, I am not there anymore.
This world filled with hope and warmth may be harsh at times. But please remember to appreciate every small encounter in your life. Your "now" is supported by many many people that you encounter every day.
As you know, Taku has always had a lot of troubles. I know you felt lonely because I was always busy taking care of him. So this last message is only for you - my first special treat for you （あなたへの最初のえこひいきです）.
I'm proud to have had two amazing sons.
Your mother
I admit I'm a sucker for epilogues like this and letters from dead people. It's so sad and heartwarming at the same time. I stopped what I was doing and just cried with Takashi. He now finds that his mother is calling - Machiko had given her cell phone to her daughter in law on the way to Matsushima. Takashi's wife comes to see him and he realizes that the the trip was not only for Taku but also for him. She had wanted to go to Matsushima, but more than that, she had wanted to give Takashi and his wife a chance to reconcile.
I realize I wrote a lot during my break. It was fun and a great stress relief, but school is starting tomorrow. I don't know how frequently I would be able to write. I'll miss writing!
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