In today's result-oriented system, almost everything is conditional. To be worthy, we have to be good at something. With nothing to be proud of, we're called losers. With no contribution to the society, we're worthless. In Japan, we have to be married and have children to be a woman.
About a week ago, a 35 year old female member of the Tokyo assembly was subjected to sexist abuse while she tried to debate support for childrearing (the details are here). It took more than five days for one of the male culprits to come out and admit the inappropriateness of his remark ("You're the one who should get married"). He did not admit his underlying disrespect to single women with no children. We still don't know who did the rest of the heckling ("Are you even able to have children?" etc.)
Many Japanese showed anger towards this incident. But I think the male councillors precisely represent the general Japanese who do think that women should get married and rear children rather than stay single. These kind of people think of marriage and childrearing as what makes women a full human being, and also what gives them "true happiness".
The declining birthrate is a serious problem. Personally, I don't understand the feelings of people who avoid marriage because they don't want to "grow up", or because they might "get tired of their partner". But lack of responsibility is not the only reason why someone is single. It might not even be their choice. If it is their choice, it must be a very important choice to them -- a conclusion they came to after overcoming many difficulties in their lives. Happiness is different to everyone, and we have to respect every shape of happiness as well as every lifestyle.
Apparently, many young people are doing the Shikoku Pilgrimage lately. During the pilgrimage, they are given free meals along the way from local people. It's a tradition from hundreds of years ago when pilgrims were called 稀人(rare person). The local people have welcomed them unconditionally to this day: every pilgrim is welcomed the same way, and as a result, by the time they finish their pilgrimage, they realize that they are worthy just the way they are.
We all want to be accepted unconditionally -- married or unmarried, with or without children.
2014年6月23日月曜日
2014年1月13日月曜日
the enlightenment generation
Today is Coming of Age Day in Japan -- a celebration day for young adults turning twenty (this is the age in Japan when you're given legal rights as an adult), and a nice day off for people who aren't twenty.
Apparently, the generation of the new adults are called 悟り世代 (the enlightenment generation) in that they know what it is to be satisfied with (what they have) now （足るを知る）; they don't ask for much, and they are happy with ordinary lives -- never controlled by desires.
Some people, mainly those who lived the age of economic growth after the war have misgivings about the future of Japan when they see "the enlightenment generation". The older generations think the younger ones lack the motivation to bring further prosperity to Japan.
This might be very true. In a way, it's simply sad that these young people have reached enlightenment at their age -- enlightenments are for old people. Young people are supposed to be ambitious; they should stay hungry and foolish. It's shocking that there are less and less Japanese students willing to study abroad. It's sickening that young people are locking themselves up in a warm cocoon. And it does seem like a big problem if they are really losing interest in the rest of the world. Because a country like Japan with so little natural resource can not live on its own, and it's simply sad (again) to lock yourself away from this beautiful world when there's so much left to see.
But is that really a problem?
When the bubble popped in the early 1990s, the Japanese were forced to change their sense of value. Putting too much emphasis on material wealth soon was something to be criticized. Spiritual richness and health of the mind began to matter more. It is no coincidence that the young generation has reached enlightenment at such a young age.
If the enlightenment generation is happy (they should be by definition), and if each individual is truly happy, what is the problem? At least for the time being? Is it so bad that Japan has given up its position as the second economic power?
I don't know much about Bhutan, but they are by no means counted as an economic power (and they have a high divorce rate), and yet it's said that more than 95% of their people are "happy". It's an enlightenment country. And books with titles like "how to learn the way of happiness from Bhutan" sell like bibles in Japan, only to tell us that the Bhutanese think very much like the Japanese enlightenment generation.
So if national prosperity and individual happiness contradict one another (since happy people apparently lack the motivation to make their country richer), which should come first?
Apparently, the generation of the new adults are called 悟り世代 (the enlightenment generation) in that they know what it is to be satisfied with (what they have) now （足るを知る）; they don't ask for much, and they are happy with ordinary lives -- never controlled by desires.
Some people, mainly those who lived the age of economic growth after the war have misgivings about the future of Japan when they see "the enlightenment generation". The older generations think the younger ones lack the motivation to bring further prosperity to Japan.
This might be very true. In a way, it's simply sad that these young people have reached enlightenment at their age -- enlightenments are for old people. Young people are supposed to be ambitious; they should stay hungry and foolish. It's shocking that there are less and less Japanese students willing to study abroad. It's sickening that young people are locking themselves up in a warm cocoon. And it does seem like a big problem if they are really losing interest in the rest of the world. Because a country like Japan with so little natural resource can not live on its own, and it's simply sad (again) to lock yourself away from this beautiful world when there's so much left to see.
But is that really a problem?
When the bubble popped in the early 1990s, the Japanese were forced to change their sense of value. Putting too much emphasis on material wealth soon was something to be criticized. Spiritual richness and health of the mind began to matter more. It is no coincidence that the young generation has reached enlightenment at such a young age.
If the enlightenment generation is happy (they should be by definition), and if each individual is truly happy, what is the problem? At least for the time being? Is it so bad that Japan has given up its position as the second economic power?
I don't know much about Bhutan, but they are by no means counted as an economic power (and they have a high divorce rate), and yet it's said that more than 95% of their people are "happy". It's an enlightenment country. And books with titles like "how to learn the way of happiness from Bhutan" sell like bibles in Japan, only to tell us that the Bhutanese think very much like the Japanese enlightenment generation.
So if national prosperity and individual happiness contradict one another (since happy people apparently lack the motivation to make their country richer), which should come first?
2014年1月11日土曜日
mom's great ideas
My mother is a great mom. By which I don't mean we always get along well. In fact, we still argue sometimes. But I'm very grateful to her to have always been honest to me. She has always tried her best to be a perfect mom, and yet she has been brave enough to show me that she is just another human being with many flaws and weaknesses. I'll probably get into this deeper some other time -- today, I want to write about some of my mother's great ideas that I recalled lately when I was back home.
☆ My first halloween costume
The second October we spent in New Zealand, I had my first halloween costume parade at school. I actually don't know if it was my mother or my father that first came up with the idea, but they decided to dress me as Momotaro, literally translated as Peachboy. In the famous Japanese fairy tale, he is born from a peach an old couple finds floating down the river, and grows up to go off on an adventure to fight the demons.
He wasn't my hero or anything; I didn't want to dress as a boy in the first place, and I did protest, but my parents were convinced that they had come up with the most awesome idea. My mother picked up a brush and wrote "桃太郎(Momotaro)" proudly on a large white piece of paper so I could hold it as a flag just like Momotaro did in his story. She dressed me in a small kimono I had worn two years before for shichigosan* and said my pink pajama pants would match perfectly.
So that was that. I went to school the next day dressed as Momotaro. Of course, no one knew who he was. I looked around at my female classmates nicely dressed as Snow White, Cinderella, Tinkerbell... They all looked back at me as if to ask "Who are you?" but after all, I think everyone was too busy admiring themselves.
From then on, I never asked for help on halloween costumes. A couple of years later when we were abroad again, I wore another kimono and dressed as something like Kaguyahime (another character in a Japanese fairy tale but not a boy), and when I was out of Japanese fairy tale characters, I chose a vegetable: a carrot. And of course everyone knew what and who a carrot was.
☆ Fart art
When I was back from New Zealand, I once had to write a poem for Japanese class. I didn't enjoy any form of writing back then. Japanese class was a pain. When my mother read what I had written for my homework, she didn't really like it -- it lacked uniqueness. She picked up a collection of poems by Shuntaro Tanikawa, read me a couple of his works, and said I should write a poem about farts. I don't think she said it like that, but that was what I ended up doing anyway. I guess I thought it was a great idea too.
But very few third graders appreciate the art of fart. Not many teachers have poetic sensibility like Tanizaki. And most of all, not many eight-year-olds can be truly confident in what they've created -- especially when it's "controversial art".
At school the next day, a boy sitting next to me glanced at my open notebook and said we weren't allowed to write about dirty stuff like farts. When the teacher asked me to read out my poem, I turned the page over and read a different one -- probably something boring and ordinary, but something that was not about farts.
*Shichigosan（七五三） is a celebration for three, five and seven year olds. Back when the death rate of children was still high in Japan, they started celebrating the health and growth of children who managed to live up to these ages. I guess nowadays in an age when parents expect a lot more from their children, it's a good occasion to remind them that a couple of years ago, before their kids were even born, they only wished they would be born healthy -- just that and nothing more.
☆ My first halloween costume
The second October we spent in New Zealand, I had my first halloween costume parade at school. I actually don't know if it was my mother or my father that first came up with the idea, but they decided to dress me as Momotaro, literally translated as Peachboy. In the famous Japanese fairy tale, he is born from a peach an old couple finds floating down the river, and grows up to go off on an adventure to fight the demons.
He wasn't my hero or anything; I didn't want to dress as a boy in the first place, and I did protest, but my parents were convinced that they had come up with the most awesome idea. My mother picked up a brush and wrote "桃太郎(Momotaro)" proudly on a large white piece of paper so I could hold it as a flag just like Momotaro did in his story. She dressed me in a small kimono I had worn two years before for shichigosan* and said my pink pajama pants would match perfectly.
So that was that. I went to school the next day dressed as Momotaro. Of course, no one knew who he was. I looked around at my female classmates nicely dressed as Snow White, Cinderella, Tinkerbell... They all looked back at me as if to ask "Who are you?" but after all, I think everyone was too busy admiring themselves.
From then on, I never asked for help on halloween costumes. A couple of years later when we were abroad again, I wore another kimono and dressed as something like Kaguyahime (another character in a Japanese fairy tale but not a boy), and when I was out of Japanese fairy tale characters, I chose a vegetable: a carrot. And of course everyone knew what and who a carrot was.
☆ Fart art
When I was back from New Zealand, I once had to write a poem for Japanese class. I didn't enjoy any form of writing back then. Japanese class was a pain. When my mother read what I had written for my homework, she didn't really like it -- it lacked uniqueness. She picked up a collection of poems by Shuntaro Tanikawa, read me a couple of his works, and said I should write a poem about farts. I don't think she said it like that, but that was what I ended up doing anyway. I guess I thought it was a great idea too.
But very few third graders appreciate the art of fart. Not many teachers have poetic sensibility like Tanizaki. And most of all, not many eight-year-olds can be truly confident in what they've created -- especially when it's "controversial art".
At school the next day, a boy sitting next to me glanced at my open notebook and said we weren't allowed to write about dirty stuff like farts. When the teacher asked me to read out my poem, I turned the page over and read a different one -- probably something boring and ordinary, but something that was not about farts.
*Shichigosan（七五三） is a celebration for three, five and seven year olds. Back when the death rate of children was still high in Japan, they started celebrating the health and growth of children who managed to live up to these ages. I guess nowadays in an age when parents expect a lot more from their children, it's a good occasion to remind them that a couple of years ago, before their kids were even born, they only wished they would be born healthy -- just that and nothing more.
2014年1月10日金曜日
missing bike
When Tokyo ran for the 2020 Olympics, the presenters emphasized that Japan was the safest country in the world -- that lost wallets were returned untouched. One of my classmates got her bike "stolen" about a month ago, only to have it found on a random hill a month later. The police called her the other day so she could pick it up. The missing-bike incident reminded me of my own:
It was the summer before the last. When I couldn't find my bike at our apartment building parking lot, I asked my mother if she had used it. She said no. The creepy part was that my bike was super old (unlike my friend's brand new one). There were tons of new good looking bicycles in our parking area so I thought a stranger who was secretly in love with me had decided to take my bike. Detective M (my mother)'s guess was that since my bike was from another area (it said so on the sticker), a group of Chinese men had come to steal it, thinking it would less likely be tracked down. My mother made a big deal out of "the case" and asked the caretaker of the building to be careful about the bikes. She also ended up making my father call the management company.
While the detective took a shower though, my father and I had a calm conversation, and he told me about an embarrassing incident: a few weeks before, he went to the station on his bike, went to work, came back, got on his bike, dropped by Matsuya to have a hamburg steak, and walked back home. The next morning when his bike was missing, he told the caretaker that his bike had been stolen. That was exactly when he remembered he had left it at Matsuya the night before.
So I tried to recall again about the last time I used my bike (which was about a week before). I had gone to sell a bag of old clothes: I had gone up a long slope, walked 15 minutes under the burning sun, arrived at the store sweating like a hippo in heat, and got only 380 yen, which was more of a shock than a disappointment. Of course I didn't forget to pick up my bike because otherwise, I would've had to use that 380yen to buy a train ticket. So I tried to recall if I went anywhere after selling the clothes, and finally remembered that I had gone to the supermarket to buy some bread my mother had asked for.
Since it was around midnight, my father came with me to the supermarket to pick up my bike. He half hoped the bike had really disappeared because he didn't think he could endure the embarrassement. But my bike was surely there, alone under the moonlight. What were we going to tell the caretaker?
Scenario1: just leave the bike where he would notice and have him call us the next morning (and I would keep acting like a victim)
Scenario2: I will say I found it at the supermarket -- that someone must have decided to ride my bike there and left it (and I would never say that was, in fact, me)
Scenario3: just apologize.
I took scenario3, but it wasn't that embarrassing after all. The caretaker, in fact, didn't seem to be all that interested in my bike.
So anyway, "stolen" bikes do get found in Japan, one way or the other.
It was the summer before the last. When I couldn't find my bike at our apartment building parking lot, I asked my mother if she had used it. She said no. The creepy part was that my bike was super old (unlike my friend's brand new one). There were tons of new good looking bicycles in our parking area so I thought a stranger who was secretly in love with me had decided to take my bike. Detective M (my mother)'s guess was that since my bike was from another area (it said so on the sticker), a group of Chinese men had come to steal it, thinking it would less likely be tracked down. My mother made a big deal out of "the case" and asked the caretaker of the building to be careful about the bikes. She also ended up making my father call the management company.
While the detective took a shower though, my father and I had a calm conversation, and he told me about an embarrassing incident: a few weeks before, he went to the station on his bike, went to work, came back, got on his bike, dropped by Matsuya to have a hamburg steak, and walked back home. The next morning when his bike was missing, he told the caretaker that his bike had been stolen. That was exactly when he remembered he had left it at Matsuya the night before.
So I tried to recall again about the last time I used my bike (which was about a week before). I had gone to sell a bag of old clothes: I had gone up a long slope, walked 15 minutes under the burning sun, arrived at the store sweating like a hippo in heat, and got only 380 yen, which was more of a shock than a disappointment. Of course I didn't forget to pick up my bike because otherwise, I would've had to use that 380yen to buy a train ticket. So I tried to recall if I went anywhere after selling the clothes, and finally remembered that I had gone to the supermarket to buy some bread my mother had asked for.
Since it was around midnight, my father came with me to the supermarket to pick up my bike. He half hoped the bike had really disappeared because he didn't think he could endure the embarrassement. But my bike was surely there, alone under the moonlight. What were we going to tell the caretaker?
Scenario1: just leave the bike where he would notice and have him call us the next morning (and I would keep acting like a victim)
Scenario2: I will say I found it at the supermarket -- that someone must have decided to ride my bike there and left it (and I would never say that was, in fact, me)
Scenario3: just apologize.
I took scenario3, but it wasn't that embarrassing after all. The caretaker, in fact, didn't seem to be all that interested in my bike.
So anyway, "stolen" bikes do get found in Japan, one way or the other.
2013年12月19日木曜日
public bath
An interesting article I read while I was on the plane today (edited and translated by me as usual):
When I was a child, there were very few houses in Tokyo that had a bath. Having a bath at home implied a special kind of status. My family actually did have that status, but there were more than ten people living together so some of us ended up going to the sento (=public bath).
Back in those days, the prewar totalitarianism was still strong, and adults scolded children even if they were not their own. All adults were a threat to children. And sento was a place where that kind of totalitarianism appeared especially strongly. There, we learned not only morals but also our rebel spirits -- when someone scolded us, we would later sneak up from behind and grab his crotch before running away.
Campus activism and union activism were supported by these sento generations, and it seemed as though they declined once people started having baths at home.
Sento was a place where we observed adults. Young and old and rich and poor were all equally naked, and the rumors that we usually heard on the streets disappeared once we opened the door to the bath: A good-for-nothing drunkard would look brilliant while the leader of the neighboorhood association would look unhappy and weak. It was their body and their way of treating children that mattered, and we saw something totally different from what we saw beyond the curtains (that divided the sento from the rest of the world).
And there was one thing I wondered: why did all the adults groan when they got into a hot bath? No child groaned. Nor did young men. But they would start groaning as they got older, and yes, this was what we all call ho-etsu (法悦). In the dictionary, it says: the ecstacy you feel when you hear the teachings of Buddhism.
Of course, no one lectures the teachings of Buddhism in a bath, and no children understood the ecstacy the adults found in the mere hot water.
Later on in life, it was when I found myself groaning in the bath that I realized how old I had become. People usually find themselves thinking when they groan. But the ho-etsu groan you let out in a hot bath is totally unrelated to the brain -- it's the voice of your body. So the moment you're groaning, you never even feel embarrassed. My groans have become louder as I've gotten older.
Lately, there are places such as super-sento and healthyland and many people from the sento-generation visit them early in the morning just to groan. And my recent discovery is that young people these days don't hide their crotch with their towels; they don't even have a towel. So have the Japanese forgotten the spirit of shame? I sometimes feel like scolding the young ones but I have no courage. And when I notice the many skin-caring goods they bring like girls, I realize the world has changed. Maybe these young men won't groan when they get older. Maybe my groans make them think: shameless old bastard.
- Jiro Asada
When I was a child, there were very few houses in Tokyo that had a bath. Having a bath at home implied a special kind of status. My family actually did have that status, but there were more than ten people living together so some of us ended up going to the sento (=public bath).
Back in those days, the prewar totalitarianism was still strong, and adults scolded children even if they were not their own. All adults were a threat to children. And sento was a place where that kind of totalitarianism appeared especially strongly. There, we learned not only morals but also our rebel spirits -- when someone scolded us, we would later sneak up from behind and grab his crotch before running away.
Campus activism and union activism were supported by these sento generations, and it seemed as though they declined once people started having baths at home.
Sento was a place where we observed adults. Young and old and rich and poor were all equally naked, and the rumors that we usually heard on the streets disappeared once we opened the door to the bath: A good-for-nothing drunkard would look brilliant while the leader of the neighboorhood association would look unhappy and weak. It was their body and their way of treating children that mattered, and we saw something totally different from what we saw beyond the curtains (that divided the sento from the rest of the world).
And there was one thing I wondered: why did all the adults groan when they got into a hot bath? No child groaned. Nor did young men. But they would start groaning as they got older, and yes, this was what we all call ho-etsu (法悦). In the dictionary, it says: the ecstacy you feel when you hear the teachings of Buddhism.
Of course, no one lectures the teachings of Buddhism in a bath, and no children understood the ecstacy the adults found in the mere hot water.
Later on in life, it was when I found myself groaning in the bath that I realized how old I had become. People usually find themselves thinking when they groan. But the ho-etsu groan you let out in a hot bath is totally unrelated to the brain -- it's the voice of your body. So the moment you're groaning, you never even feel embarrassed. My groans have become louder as I've gotten older.
Lately, there are places such as super-sento and healthyland and many people from the sento-generation visit them early in the morning just to groan. And my recent discovery is that young people these days don't hide their crotch with their towels; they don't even have a towel. So have the Japanese forgotten the spirit of shame? I sometimes feel like scolding the young ones but I have no courage. And when I notice the many skin-caring goods they bring like girls, I realize the world has changed. Maybe these young men won't groan when they get older. Maybe my groans make them think: shameless old bastard.
- Jiro Asada
2013年12月16日月曜日
japanese greeting cards
Instead of sending Christmas cards, we send 年賀状(nengajo) -- a greeting card that is delivered on New Year's Day. I read an article about what you shouldn't do when writing a nengajo and found it pretty interesting.
1. Do not use a red pen.
2. 新年 and あけまして mean the same so don't write both.
3. 謹賀新年 and あけましておめでとうございます mean the same so don't write both.
4. Do not use ominous words such as lose, fall, die. For "last year", use 昨年 instead of 去年 (去る means "to leave")
5. Start with a sentence that shows appreciation and consideration towards the person who receives the card. Do not write about yourself too much.
I think this should come first on the list. It's pretty common to send a nengajo with pictures of our own children/wedding, or an absurdly long discription of how well we are doing. But nengajo is not a place to brag about our cute children/ grandchildren or our every single accomplishment. Close friends and family will appreciate that kind of nengajo, but not everyone is going to find our "family newspaper" adorable.
We don't send nengajo to people who have lost a member of their family (those who lost a family member in the past year write a different kind of greeting card in December to let everyone know that they will spend the season without celebration; it's called 喪中(mochu = be in mourning), and it's thought to be inconsiderate to send a nengajo to people in mochu). But losing a family member is not the only harships we face in life. There are people facing divorce, people who can't have babies, people in unemployment. Maybe we should put that in consideration too?
6. Do not use too many illustrations. They can look childish.
7. If your card is going to be delivered after Jan 7, it is not a nengajo any longer. Make it a 寒中見舞い (a kind of card sent during the winter season; the summer equivalent is 暑中見舞い)
1. Do not use a red pen.
2. 新年 and あけまして mean the same so don't write both.
3. 謹賀新年 and あけましておめでとうございます mean the same so don't write both.
4. Do not use ominous words such as lose, fall, die. For "last year", use 昨年 instead of 去年 (去る means "to leave")
5. Start with a sentence that shows appreciation and consideration towards the person who receives the card. Do not write about yourself too much.
I think this should come first on the list. It's pretty common to send a nengajo with pictures of our own children/wedding, or an absurdly long discription of how well we are doing. But nengajo is not a place to brag about our cute children/ grandchildren or our every single accomplishment. Close friends and family will appreciate that kind of nengajo, but not everyone is going to find our "family newspaper" adorable.
We don't send nengajo to people who have lost a member of their family (those who lost a family member in the past year write a different kind of greeting card in December to let everyone know that they will spend the season without celebration; it's called 喪中(mochu = be in mourning), and it's thought to be inconsiderate to send a nengajo to people in mochu). But losing a family member is not the only harships we face in life. There are people facing divorce, people who can't have babies, people in unemployment. Maybe we should put that in consideration too?
6. Do not use too many illustrations. They can look childish.
7. If your card is going to be delivered after Jan 7, it is not a nengajo any longer. Make it a 寒中見舞い (a kind of card sent during the winter season; the summer equivalent is 暑中見舞い)
2013年7月7日日曜日
double standard
The Bangladeshi father of a twenty-two year old female TV personality is wanted for cheating to get money for unneeded health support. He has run away to his home country, and his daughter has written on her blog that she hopes he will come back to Japan, and that she was sorry for "those who were offended by her father's behavior".
I wasn't really interested in this news until my own father told me what he thought about the reaction of the Japanese public.
A couple of years ago, a successful comedian was criticized when it turned out that his mother had been getting public assistance. I don't remember well about the incident but I think part of the criticism was that the mother had asked for "unneeded public assistance".
There are some similarities between the two cases. They were both about parents. But the comedian ended up being criticized while the female TV personality ended up being sympathized (she has practically become a beautiful heroin who had become a model to support her horrible father and her poor family). Was it because she had been giving money to her father? Was it such a horrible thing that the comedian hadn't sent enough money to his mother? Maybe he had. But since when did children become parents?
Anyway, today is Tanabata -- the only day of the year when the prince and princess separated by the milky way meet each other. If you make a wish, it's supposed to come true!
I wasn't really interested in this news until my own father told me what he thought about the reaction of the Japanese public.
A couple of years ago, a successful comedian was criticized when it turned out that his mother had been getting public assistance. I don't remember well about the incident but I think part of the criticism was that the mother had asked for "unneeded public assistance".
There are some similarities between the two cases. They were both about parents. But the comedian ended up being criticized while the female TV personality ended up being sympathized (she has practically become a beautiful heroin who had become a model to support her horrible father and her poor family). Was it because she had been giving money to her father? Was it such a horrible thing that the comedian hadn't sent enough money to his mother? Maybe he had. But since when did children become parents?
Anyway, today is Tanabata -- the only day of the year when the prince and princess separated by the milky way meet each other. If you make a wish, it's supposed to come true!
2013年7月4日木曜日
laundry
In Japan, there is a baseball tournament called Koshien (named after the stadium where the tournament is held) fought between top high school teams. It's one of the biggest events that take place during the summer, and the whole nation cheers for the students who have dedicated their school life to baseball. Spectators are moved by the intensity and eagerness of the students -- it reminds many people of their adolescent days when they had a big dream and nothing to lose.
Six years ago, a pitcher who happened to lead his team to a grand victory became a hero, not only because of his great pitching and cute looks, but because of the shockingly refined behavior he showed during the games -- he wiped his sweat with a clean blue handkerchief he neatly kept in his pocket. It probably goes without saying that no one expected to see a handkerchief come out of a high school boy's pocket. Not in a baseball stadium where students got covered in dirt and dust and sweat and wiped it all together with their sleeves. The media decided to call him "ハンカチ王子 Prince Handkerchief", and since then, many famous people have been nicknamed Prince something.
Just an hour ago, I was introduced to 洗濯王子(Prince Laundry). He was apparently a "laundry advisor" and was interviewed to tell us how to dry our laundry properly (so it wouldn't stink) during the rainy season. Of course I do think it's important that our laundry smells nice. Being an advisor is a great job. But a "laundry advisor"?? I admit there were *some* useful advices but do we really need Prince Laundry to tell us that we need a fan if the air is too humid?
Six years ago, a pitcher who happened to lead his team to a grand victory became a hero, not only because of his great pitching and cute looks, but because of the shockingly refined behavior he showed during the games -- he wiped his sweat with a clean blue handkerchief he neatly kept in his pocket. It probably goes without saying that no one expected to see a handkerchief come out of a high school boy's pocket. Not in a baseball stadium where students got covered in dirt and dust and sweat and wiped it all together with their sleeves. The media decided to call him "ハンカチ王子 Prince Handkerchief", and since then, many famous people have been nicknamed Prince something.
Just an hour ago, I was introduced to 洗濯王子(Prince Laundry). He was apparently a "laundry advisor" and was interviewed to tell us how to dry our laundry properly (so it wouldn't stink) during the rainy season. Of course I do think it's important that our laundry smells nice. Being an advisor is a great job. But a "laundry advisor"?? I admit there were *some* useful advices but do we really need Prince Laundry to tell us that we need a fan if the air is too humid?
2013年7月1日月曜日
some thoughts
I have a couple of things I want to write about but I don't have much time, so I'm going to see if I can mix them all together and still write an entry that makes sense.
Very recently in Japan, a mother gave the middle lobe of her lung to her three year old son. It was a big news because it's usually the inferior lobe that is used for transplant and it was the first case ever (in the world) that a medical team succeeded in transplanting the middle lobe. The doctor described that when he held the mother's lung to put into the little boy, it felt as though he was "carrying life（命を運んでいる）". He said it was a very touching moment (when he thought about it later).
Around the same time, a famous figure skater disclosed to the media that she had given birth in April. This was a great shock to the public because we all thought she was aiming for the gold medal in Sochi. Now I see that having a baby and winning in the Oympics are compatible (as long as you don't plan to do it at the exact same time). She's still up for the Olympics, and I wish her the best.
But at the same time, I could also understand why some people found the news disappointing. If an athelete wanted to be in best condition she wouldn't choose to give birth less than a year before the Olympics.
Some atheletes say their "goal" in the Olympics is to enjoy. But I don't think the Japanese public are willing to pay to let atheletes merely enjoy themselves. Atheletes should realize that the money invested in them could instead be used to save some sick children with dreams to accomplish -- some might want to compete in the Olympics.
When I told my mother the other day that I thought I might be regareded a bit selfish（自分勝手）, she told me that I wasn't selfish but self-assertive（自己主張が強い） and that those were two very different things that were often mixed up in Japan. Having your own opinion and acting according to what you believe can result in selfish behavior sometimes, but you can still be thoughtful of others while being a "strong" assertive human.
Either way, I don't think it's selfish of anybody to choose what they want. People have every right to be assertive when it comes to making decisions about themselves -- it's their life. But maybe, there's something called responsibility too, especially when we're supported by a lot of people.
Very recently in Japan, a mother gave the middle lobe of her lung to her three year old son. It was a big news because it's usually the inferior lobe that is used for transplant and it was the first case ever (in the world) that a medical team succeeded in transplanting the middle lobe. The doctor described that when he held the mother's lung to put into the little boy, it felt as though he was "carrying life（命を運んでいる）". He said it was a very touching moment (when he thought about it later).
Around the same time, a famous figure skater disclosed to the media that she had given birth in April. This was a great shock to the public because we all thought she was aiming for the gold medal in Sochi. Now I see that having a baby and winning in the Oympics are compatible (as long as you don't plan to do it at the exact same time). She's still up for the Olympics, and I wish her the best.
But at the same time, I could also understand why some people found the news disappointing. If an athelete wanted to be in best condition she wouldn't choose to give birth less than a year before the Olympics.
Some atheletes say their "goal" in the Olympics is to enjoy. But I don't think the Japanese public are willing to pay to let atheletes merely enjoy themselves. Atheletes should realize that the money invested in them could instead be used to save some sick children with dreams to accomplish -- some might want to compete in the Olympics.
When I told my mother the other day that I thought I might be regareded a bit selfish（自分勝手）, she told me that I wasn't selfish but self-assertive（自己主張が強い） and that those were two very different things that were often mixed up in Japan. Having your own opinion and acting according to what you believe can result in selfish behavior sometimes, but you can still be thoughtful of others while being a "strong" assertive human.
Either way, I don't think it's selfish of anybody to choose what they want. People have every right to be assertive when it comes to making decisions about themselves -- it's their life. But maybe, there's something called responsibility too, especially when we're supported by a lot of people.
2013年6月10日月曜日
being different
Kids can be cruel. They have their own way of being cruel. They want to be different, yet they hate kids who are 'different'. I had some problems adapting to schools when I came back to Japan. Before being the "cool kid" who spoke English, I was the "selfish kid" or the "bossy kid" and the "kid who couldn't speak proper Japanese" or the "kid who couldn't run the marathon" or the "kid who couldn't do the long-rope jumping" and dozen other things I couldn't do at gym class.
There's a thing about gym classes in Japanese schools. There are stuff you *must* be able to do and they give you check lists for your 'friend' to check off when they witness that you can really do it. But the worst sports they ever make you do is, in my opinion, long rope jumping. You have to run into the rope (that looks as though it's going to wip you) at the right timing and if you fail, everyone in line groans and you have to feel like you did something as horrible as killing a classmate.
But Japanese teachers just love to make students work on that kind of stuff. It teaches you how you're supposed to act in a group, how to keep the group in harmony, and how not to be 'different'.
Difference is an amazing concept though. Without it, we can't be ourselves obviously. Before babies become themselves, they're part of their mother. There's no concept of you and me. But after spending some months outside mommy's stomach, distinction becomes the key.
But I wonder when kids start regarding difference as a bad thing. A couple of months ago, when I saw a group of six year olds trying to make friends during their first week of school, the last thing I could imagine them doing was bullying someone. They would all go up and say: "Let's be friends!" And they're friends. It's as simple as that. Who cares if they're different? They probably don't even know what friends are.
Then we grow up and we have definitions for everything. You have to go to the same school, or you have to have the same hobby, or you have to have the same religion, or you have to survive the same earthquake, or you have to fight in same war on the same side, or you even have to be of the same nationality. To be a 'true' friend, we have to fulfill many requirements. Well, not always, but in a country like Japan, being the same means a lot.
I'm not saying it's boring to be friends with the same kind of people; it's important to know what fits you and what doesn't. But I sometimes wonder what it was like when I wasn't even conscious of who was white and who was yellow, who was gay and who was straight, who was a friend and who was not; I want to see how I used to see the world and how it used to work back then.
When does difference become a bad thing? I guess it's not necessarily bad -- it's good if everyone likes it -- but since when do we start forgetting to see things beyond differences? Maybe I'm just being cynical and sentimental today.
On a side note, I really appreciate it that my parents took a lot of time to practice long-rope jumping and many other things with me *not* so I could be the same as everyone else and fit in, but so that I wouldn't have to feel worthless in the Japanese education curriculum and instead experience the joy of learning. (The good thing about not being able to do something is that you can relish the joy of learning.) They did pretty much everything to protect me, and I think they never tried to convince me that it wasn't wrong to be different. Maybe they knew I had to learn that by myself.
There's a thing about gym classes in Japanese schools. There are stuff you *must* be able to do and they give you check lists for your 'friend' to check off when they witness that you can really do it. But the worst sports they ever make you do is, in my opinion, long rope jumping. You have to run into the rope (that looks as though it's going to wip you) at the right timing and if you fail, everyone in line groans and you have to feel like you did something as horrible as killing a classmate.
But Japanese teachers just love to make students work on that kind of stuff. It teaches you how you're supposed to act in a group, how to keep the group in harmony, and how not to be 'different'.
Difference is an amazing concept though. Without it, we can't be ourselves obviously. Before babies become themselves, they're part of their mother. There's no concept of you and me. But after spending some months outside mommy's stomach, distinction becomes the key.
But I wonder when kids start regarding difference as a bad thing. A couple of months ago, when I saw a group of six year olds trying to make friends during their first week of school, the last thing I could imagine them doing was bullying someone. They would all go up and say: "Let's be friends!" And they're friends. It's as simple as that. Who cares if they're different? They probably don't even know what friends are.
Then we grow up and we have definitions for everything. You have to go to the same school, or you have to have the same hobby, or you have to have the same religion, or you have to survive the same earthquake, or you have to fight in same war on the same side, or you even have to be of the same nationality. To be a 'true' friend, we have to fulfill many requirements. Well, not always, but in a country like Japan, being the same means a lot.
I'm not saying it's boring to be friends with the same kind of people; it's important to know what fits you and what doesn't. But I sometimes wonder what it was like when I wasn't even conscious of who was white and who was yellow, who was gay and who was straight, who was a friend and who was not; I want to see how I used to see the world and how it used to work back then.
When does difference become a bad thing? I guess it's not necessarily bad -- it's good if everyone likes it -- but since when do we start forgetting to see things beyond differences? Maybe I'm just being cynical and sentimental today.
On a side note, I really appreciate it that my parents took a lot of time to practice long-rope jumping and many other things with me *not* so I could be the same as everyone else and fit in, but so that I wouldn't have to feel worthless in the Japanese education curriculum and instead experience the joy of learning. (The good thing about not being able to do something is that you can relish the joy of learning.) They did pretty much everything to protect me, and I think they never tried to convince me that it wasn't wrong to be different. Maybe they knew I had to learn that by myself.
2013年6月8日土曜日
japanese idols
Japanese idols have general elections.
It's broad casted on TV like a real election.
Analysed and commented by famous scholars and serious newscasters.
Don't ask me why.
Oh, but it's a big deal because we have to decide who we want in the center when we see their pretty performances.
Does anyone else think AKB48 sounds like a name of some kind of gene?
It's broad casted on TV like a real election.
Analysed and commented by famous scholars and serious newscasters.
Don't ask me why.
Oh, but it's a big deal because we have to decide who we want in the center when we see their pretty performances.
Does anyone else think AKB48 sounds like a name of some kind of gene?
2013年6月5日水曜日
soccer
Now that we're done with pathology, we're on to pharmacology, but suddenly, our timetable only consists of two classes in the morning (at least this week). Which means we're required to study on our own in the afternoon. And that was exactly what I was planning to do yesterday when these guys suddenly decided they were coming over to my place to watch a soccer game. It really made no sense at all, because 1. I don't watch soccer, 2. I never said I wanted to watch a game with them, 3. I wasn't planning to watch yesterday's game. That was how much I was NOT interested in yesterday's Japan vs. Australia. Halfway through the game, I asked if anyone thought it was a waste of time.
But now that the game is over, I'm glad they came to indirectly force me to watch it, because it ended up to be one of the best soccer games I've ever seen. We all thought it was going to end 0-0 but Australia scored when there was less than ten minutes left for Japan to score back, and guess what happened -- Japan got a PK. We all cried with joy when this 'monkey' -- Honda -- scored.
And we found out later on the news that some people were more violent when they celebrated -- some climbed on taxis while some dived into rivers. It was absurd, but as I saw all these people in excitement, I thought it was a pretty amazing phenomenon. So many people were happy about the same thing at the same time. I don't think the Japanese are patriotic at all, and I don't necessarily value patriotism anyway, but I thought it was nice to see the people become as one.
But now that the game is over, I'm glad they came to indirectly force me to watch it, because it ended up to be one of the best soccer games I've ever seen. We all thought it was going to end 0-0 but Australia scored when there was less than ten minutes left for Japan to score back, and guess what happened -- Japan got a PK. We all cried with joy when this 'monkey' -- Honda -- scored.
And we found out later on the news that some people were more violent when they celebrated -- some climbed on taxis while some dived into rivers. It was absurd, but as I saw all these people in excitement, I thought it was a pretty amazing phenomenon. So many people were happy about the same thing at the same time. I don't think the Japanese are patriotic at all, and I don't necessarily value patriotism anyway, but I thought it was nice to see the people become as one.
2013年6月1日土曜日
history
When I talked about the comfort-women-incident with a friend today, I insisted that Hashimoto wasn't wrong for saying comfort women were 'necessary', that there were things in society that were wrong but necessary, to which my friend told me that I was self-contradicting. "Being necessary, by definition, means it does more good than harm, which means it's relatively right."
I was still not quite convinced until the conversation moved on to what America did to Japan -- the two atomic bombings. When he said they might've been 'necessary', I belatedly understood that it actually did sound like justifying what was done. Being necessary and being right are slightly different things, but it's the same statement for emotional victims.
According to my friend, around the time of WWII, Japan had one foot in the feudal world and one foot in the modern world (we modernized rapidly and our morality hadn't caught up with our technology). We still had bushido as our backbone, and although it never taught us to disrespect others and be cruel, Japanese soldiers misbehaved in colonies in the way Europeans did several hundred years ago. Prostitution and war went hand in hand not only in Japan, but the way Japan did it was crueler than any other country. (In fact, it was bad to the extent that when Japan finally surrendered, we prepared a 'comfort house' for American soldiers because we didn't want them to 'misbehave'.) The fact that comfort women had been 'necessary' according to the Japanese mindset 'at that time' does not make what Japan did any less cruel.
Talking of moral relativity and bushido, one out of five Okinawans died when America invaded Okinawa, and many of them killed themselves because they were convinced that death with dignity valued more than life with shame. This sense of value stems from bushido, but it does sound pretty extreme according to today's sense of value (in which nothing weighs more than life), and this was what apparently frightened the Americans and made them think it was 'necessary' to drop some atomic bombs. Japan had been debating of surrendering after the first bomb, but the fact that Japan still hadn't surrendered upsetted the Americans. The second bomb may have not been necessary but it was reasonable for them to think it was. And if they hadn't dropped it, Japan may have fought till the last man died.
Now I remember how I felt shocked and angry when I learned in elementary school what America had done, but I don't have any raw feelings about it now. I have very good Americans friends, and I never think about the atomic bomb their grandfathers dropped. History is a story of humans doing wrong things to humans. We shouldn't forget it but we should learn to forgive and move on. It's a waste of energy to be angry, and if we were to like/dislike someone because of her native country's doings, I think it's a sad way to divide the world.
On a side note, my friend (Canadian) knew a lot more than me about what happened in Japan during WWII. One of the things he pointed out was that it was very illogical for us to be so upset about the atomic bomb and not care quite as much about the Tokyo air raid. 200,000 to 80,000 people were killed in the air raid (it was initially underestimated because America didn't want to make it seem like what they did was so cruel while Japan didn't want to admit America was capable of such killing), which means the atomic bomb just did in two seconds what it would take fire-bombing 12 hours -- the damage was the same.
I don't want it to sound like an excuse but in Japanese schools, modern history is taught in a rush because we don't have enough time by the time we get there. Teachers take too much time doing the Jomon era when humans in Japan used to spend their days fishing peacefully. My friend said it might be on purpose. "They don't want to teach history that makes Japan look bad." Maybe he's right.
The reason Kyoto wasn't bombed by the way, was because one of the American officers who were deciding where they should bomb had visited Kyoto thrity years before on his honeymoon and thought it would be a tragedy for all mankind if Kyoto and its art were destroyed. It really is the experience of individuals that change history.
I was still not quite convinced until the conversation moved on to what America did to Japan -- the two atomic bombings. When he said they might've been 'necessary', I belatedly understood that it actually did sound like justifying what was done. Being necessary and being right are slightly different things, but it's the same statement for emotional victims.
According to my friend, around the time of WWII, Japan had one foot in the feudal world and one foot in the modern world (we modernized rapidly and our morality hadn't caught up with our technology). We still had bushido as our backbone, and although it never taught us to disrespect others and be cruel, Japanese soldiers misbehaved in colonies in the way Europeans did several hundred years ago. Prostitution and war went hand in hand not only in Japan, but the way Japan did it was crueler than any other country. (In fact, it was bad to the extent that when Japan finally surrendered, we prepared a 'comfort house' for American soldiers because we didn't want them to 'misbehave'.) The fact that comfort women had been 'necessary' according to the Japanese mindset 'at that time' does not make what Japan did any less cruel.
Talking of moral relativity and bushido, one out of five Okinawans died when America invaded Okinawa, and many of them killed themselves because they were convinced that death with dignity valued more than life with shame. This sense of value stems from bushido, but it does sound pretty extreme according to today's sense of value (in which nothing weighs more than life), and this was what apparently frightened the Americans and made them think it was 'necessary' to drop some atomic bombs. Japan had been debating of surrendering after the first bomb, but the fact that Japan still hadn't surrendered upsetted the Americans. The second bomb may have not been necessary but it was reasonable for them to think it was. And if they hadn't dropped it, Japan may have fought till the last man died.
Now I remember how I felt shocked and angry when I learned in elementary school what America had done, but I don't have any raw feelings about it now. I have very good Americans friends, and I never think about the atomic bomb their grandfathers dropped. History is a story of humans doing wrong things to humans. We shouldn't forget it but we should learn to forgive and move on. It's a waste of energy to be angry, and if we were to like/dislike someone because of her native country's doings, I think it's a sad way to divide the world.
On a side note, my friend (Canadian) knew a lot more than me about what happened in Japan during WWII. One of the things he pointed out was that it was very illogical for us to be so upset about the atomic bomb and not care quite as much about the Tokyo air raid. 200,000 to 80,000 people were killed in the air raid (it was initially underestimated because America didn't want to make it seem like what they did was so cruel while Japan didn't want to admit America was capable of such killing), which means the atomic bomb just did in two seconds what it would take fire-bombing 12 hours -- the damage was the same.
I don't want it to sound like an excuse but in Japanese schools, modern history is taught in a rush because we don't have enough time by the time we get there. Teachers take too much time doing the Jomon era when humans in Japan used to spend their days fishing peacefully. My friend said it might be on purpose. "They don't want to teach history that makes Japan look bad." Maybe he's right.
The reason Kyoto wasn't bombed by the way, was because one of the American officers who were deciding where they should bomb had visited Kyoto thrity years before on his honeymoon and thought it would be a tragedy for all mankind if Kyoto and its art were destroyed. It really is the experience of individuals that change history.
controlling women
A foreign friend once told me that Japanese women were notorious for being controlling. In the beginning, we're quiet and flexible and we don't interfere, but once we start dating, we become controlling. "It's bizzare." He said it probably had something to do with jealousy and insecurity but that it must be something cultural too.
It reminded me of how Japanese women were portrayed in the past. They were called Yamato Nadeshiko, and just like the Nadeshiko flower, they were modest and reserved, but at the same time, had a strong mentality and will power to support their husband with great respect and patience.
There's still an expression that people use when praising the support of one's wife: 内助の功 (naijo no ko = (accomplishment of) one's wife's help). People use it like this:
"I got promoted the other day."
"Congrats! That's naijo no ko."
We're now moving toward gender equality and the concept of Yamato Nadeshiko is kind of out-of-date, but I wonder if this has anything to do with the controlling demeanor of Japanese women.
I mean, being Yamato Nadeshiko can be a double-edged sword. If you're really happy sacrificing your life to support your husband, and if your husband is successful, it's great.
I think the definition of YN is being truly happy and proud being solely on the supporting side.
But when you're constantly judged by your husband's status, you most likely start wishing he did better. And that's where the controlling starts. You become pushy because you've been sacrificing so much for this man, and it's hard to be happy supporting an unsuccessful man.
Nowadays, I think the majority of Japanese women do not seek their "dreams" and "goals" and "futures" in their men; they have their own dream and goals to accomplish, but maybe the well-hidden controlling character of YN might be remaining in the Japanese culture.
Then again, I think real YN were never controlling (regardless of their husbands' situation). They were as patient as the beauty of the flower they were named after.
On a side note, I did pass pathology. Only 11 people did though. I don't think I did that well and I feel almost guilty for passing...
It reminded me of how Japanese women were portrayed in the past. They were called Yamato Nadeshiko, and just like the Nadeshiko flower, they were modest and reserved, but at the same time, had a strong mentality and will power to support their husband with great respect and patience.
There's still an expression that people use when praising the support of one's wife: 内助の功 (naijo no ko = (accomplishment of) one's wife's help). People use it like this:
"I got promoted the other day."
"Congrats! That's naijo no ko."
We're now moving toward gender equality and the concept of Yamato Nadeshiko is kind of out-of-date, but I wonder if this has anything to do with the controlling demeanor of Japanese women.
I mean, being Yamato Nadeshiko can be a double-edged sword. If you're really happy sacrificing your life to support your husband, and if your husband is successful, it's great.
I think the definition of YN is being truly happy and proud being solely on the supporting side.
But when you're constantly judged by your husband's status, you most likely start wishing he did better. And that's where the controlling starts. You become pushy because you've been sacrificing so much for this man, and it's hard to be happy supporting an unsuccessful man.
Nowadays, I think the majority of Japanese women do not seek their "dreams" and "goals" and "futures" in their men; they have their own dream and goals to accomplish, but maybe the well-hidden controlling character of YN might be remaining in the Japanese culture.
Then again, I think real YN were never controlling (regardless of their husbands' situation). They were as patient as the beauty of the flower they were named after.
On a side note, I did pass pathology. Only 11 people did though. I don't think I did that well and I feel almost guilty for passing...
2013年5月28日火曜日
sex culture in japan
I think sex is a pretty interesting topic when we talk about culture. It's something fundamental to humans, to creatures, to life, and yet there are so many interpretations. I wouldn't go too far as to say the essence of culture lies inside the bedroom, but how the people talk about sex can probably tell us a lot about a country/region. It's too bad I'm not a sex culture specialist -- I don't know much about other countries (except that I've read somewhere that in Bhutan, there are tapestries of Gods enjoying sex).
In Japan, there's something we call 風俗(fuzoku = legal sex services?) though I actually didn't know what it exactly was until this morning when I heard someone talking about it on the news. I knew it was a place where men went to when they were 'stressed' but I didn't know what was legal and what wasn't. From what I gathered this morning, it's illegal to do the 'real thing' or 'honban（本番）' but everything else is legal and it's called "passionfruit" if I heard it correctly. I don't get it though. I guess there's no such distinction between what's 'real' and what's not in other countries? I mean, how does it work? What if the 'client' forced it in? Is he going to be sued for a breach of contract, or assault, or what?
Another thing many of my foreign friends have pointed out is the existence of love hotels. The Japanese rarely talk about sex and yet we have these buildings specifically for sex. And it's not even hidden; the walls are sometimes painted with vivid colors and lit up with neon signs. It's pretty amusing if you think about it: people having sex in every single room of the whole building. It's actually a bit disappointing I can't write about the details -- I've never been to one. If I ever do, I *might* report it. If anyone cares to know more.
In Japan, there's something we call 風俗(fuzoku = legal sex services?) though I actually didn't know what it exactly was until this morning when I heard someone talking about it on the news. I knew it was a place where men went to when they were 'stressed' but I didn't know what was legal and what wasn't. From what I gathered this morning, it's illegal to do the 'real thing' or 'honban（本番）' but everything else is legal and it's called "passionfruit" if I heard it correctly. I don't get it though. I guess there's no such distinction between what's 'real' and what's not in other countries? I mean, how does it work? What if the 'client' forced it in? Is he going to be sued for a breach of contract, or assault, or what?
Another thing many of my foreign friends have pointed out is the existence of love hotels. The Japanese rarely talk about sex and yet we have these buildings specifically for sex. And it's not even hidden; the walls are sometimes painted with vivid colors and lit up with neon signs. It's pretty amusing if you think about it: people having sex in every single room of the whole building. It's actually a bit disappointing I can't write about the details -- I've never been to one. If I ever do, I *might* report it. If anyone cares to know more.
2013年5月17日金曜日
protected
Apparently, Japan is still an 'island'. Considering the small immigrant population, I guess it's still true that the Japanese are much less aware of international affairs in general, compared to people in other countries. It's of course obvious that Japan can't live on its own but it seems to me that the situation is sometimes a bit unclear to some people. That is, knowing the fact that your jeans were dyed in Bangladesh might be a bit different from having a Bangladeshi neighbor.
On the other hand, I believe the Japanese are pretty open to foreign cultures -- everything from the west poured into the east after all, and the Japanese took in whatever they could. But they always transferred it into something "Japanese", and we still do: when things land in Japan, people recook it and sometimes make it into something very different and unique, which is pretty cool, but that might also be a sign of some kind of intolerance towards foreign culture. We have to recook things so people can accept them without showing allergies.
Anyway, I get the impression that we're all 'protected' in Japan in a lukewarm nest. We lack stimulation. I think that's why people like me love to watch TV programs that feature 'the only Japanese' living in a strange village in a strange country.
Today, when I told my mother what I was about to watch, she said she hated the program. "They just ran away because things didn't work out in Japan. Now they're so proud to be living in a strange village. They act as if they've accomplished something when they're just living their life -- just like we all are."
She has a point. But it's fun to observe danger from your safe nest.
Anyway, I get the impression that we're all 'protected' in Japan in a lukewarm nest. We lack stimulation. I think that's why people like me love to watch TV programs that feature 'the only Japanese' living in a strange village in a strange country.
Today, when I told my mother what I was about to watch, she said she hated the program. "They just ran away because things didn't work out in Japan. Now they're so proud to be living in a strange village. They act as if they've accomplished something when they're just living their life -- just like we all are."
She has a point. But it's fun to observe danger from your safe nest.
2013年5月15日水曜日
women's notebook
The government is planning to distribute this thing called 'women's notebook' in Japan. It's a notebook that is supposed to remind Japanese women some obvious facts about our body -- that it should be checked regularly and that it's most suited to give birth before we reach our mid thirties. The government thinks it's the best way to encourage women to have babies and save Japan from its declining birth rate.
But since women are not baby-producing machines who are willing to live for the sake of a nation's policy, and since they're not the only ones 'responsible', many women seem to have an unpleasant impression of this government's new great idea.
Some women want to get married. Some women want kids. And they still have difficulty getting what they want. It's not because they are ignorant of the fact that babies are 'best before 35'. This notebook is going to make it even more difficult for women who are over thirty and are still unmarried with no kids. I'm soon going to be one of them. So,
Dear Mr. Prime Minister,
I hope you're not trying to tell us that we're lazy useless citizens who are neglecting social responsibility and that it's embarrassing and wrong to be an unmarried woman without kids.
This post was actually inspired by a Sci-Fi Horror "How to be a woman". It's set in 2050, Japan, where all women are obliged to carry a women's notebook: under the amended constitution, there is a new law that provides that single women above thirty be sent to concentration camps where they are forced to either marry a man the government chooses, or be executed, but a politician suggests it might be better to use them as prostitutes. Abe Jr. (with a small Hitler-like mustache) is criticized from Amnesty, HRW, and countries from all over the world but Japanese men adore him, and Japan starts firing missiles when America intervenes. I actually found it pretty realistic.
But since women are not baby-producing machines who are willing to live for the sake of a nation's policy, and since they're not the only ones 'responsible', many women seem to have an unpleasant impression of this government's new great idea.
Some women want to get married. Some women want kids. And they still have difficulty getting what they want. It's not because they are ignorant of the fact that babies are 'best before 35'. This notebook is going to make it even more difficult for women who are over thirty and are still unmarried with no kids. I'm soon going to be one of them. So,
Dear Mr. Prime Minister,
I hope you're not trying to tell us that we're lazy useless citizens who are neglecting social responsibility and that it's embarrassing and wrong to be an unmarried woman without kids.
This post was actually inspired by a Sci-Fi Horror "How to be a woman". It's set in 2050, Japan, where all women are obliged to carry a women's notebook: under the amended constitution, there is a new law that provides that single women above thirty be sent to concentration camps where they are forced to either marry a man the government chooses, or be executed, but a politician suggests it might be better to use them as prostitutes. Abe Jr. (with a small Hitler-like mustache) is criticized from Amnesty, HRW, and countries from all over the world but Japanese men adore him, and Japan starts firing missiles when America intervenes. I actually found it pretty realistic.
2013年5月3日金曜日
rights
May 3rd is Constitution Day in Japan. Revision to the constitution has been a hot issue lately, but in general, I think the Japanese people are pretty much indifferent about the constitution. Human rights are taken for granted, and people who claim their rights are regarded as selfish, unlike in English speaking countries where the word 'right' means correct. In Japanese, the word right (権利 kenri) includes what stands for 'benefit' -- a character that is sometimes included in words with a negative image (e.g. 利己的=selfish).
Throughout the Japanese history, there has never been a revolution in which the people fought for their rights. The current constitution was 'given' from the GHQ after WWII when Japan was still under America's control. Human rights were always given instead of being fought for. And consequently, people literally just sit on their rights and freedom. I wonder how much of the population even know that the constitution is what protects us from the state power.
But apparently, it wasn't like that when the constitution was first established. Women were counted as humans for the first time. People were excited. New born babies were named after the word 'constitution' (憲法kenpo).
Throughout the Japanese history, there has never been a revolution in which the people fought for their rights. The current constitution was 'given' from the GHQ after WWII when Japan was still under America's control. Human rights were always given instead of being fought for. And consequently, people literally just sit on their rights and freedom. I wonder how much of the population even know that the constitution is what protects us from the state power.
But apparently, it wasn't like that when the constitution was first established. Women were counted as humans for the first time. People were excited. New born babies were named after the word 'constitution' (憲法kenpo).
2013年3月28日木曜日
sakura
When I logged in today, I noticed two comments. It was totally unexpected. Just for the record, the statistics say that this blog has had 262 visits from Japan (though this is probably counting my own visits too), 118 from America, 83 from Germany, 25 from Korea, 24 from Russia, 8 from the Czech Republic, 8 from the UK, 7 from France, 4 from Malaysia, and 2 from the Netherlands. I'm not writing this blog for anyone, but it's still nice to know someone finds my writings worth reading and commenting on.
While I was on the plane today, I was listening to a program featuring "sakura songs". I didn't even know there was such a word, but according to the DJ, it's a relatively new word. In the early 2000s, a song called Sakura written by Naotaro Moriyama （さくら） became a million seller, and since then many singers started writing songs featuring the flower. Up till then, sakura was never a common theme in J-pop.
This is pretty interesting because sakura was the most commonly used flower in Japanese classic literature. People from the Heian era wrote poems after poems featuring sakura. Since it blooms only for a short period of time, it was thought as a symbol of fragility/frailness and transiency of life/beauty/power. It was also commonly associated with manly/graceful behavior from the way the petals fall rather quickly - when the time comes, they die out without lingering attachment.
While I was on the plane today, I was listening to a program featuring "sakura songs". I didn't even know there was such a word, but according to the DJ, it's a relatively new word. In the early 2000s, a song called Sakura written by Naotaro Moriyama （さくら） became a million seller, and since then many singers started writing songs featuring the flower. Up till then, sakura was never a common theme in J-pop.
This is pretty interesting because sakura was the most commonly used flower in Japanese classic literature. People from the Heian era wrote poems after poems featuring sakura. Since it blooms only for a short period of time, it was thought as a symbol of fragility/frailness and transiency of life/beauty/power. It was also commonly associated with manly/graceful behavior from the way the petals fall rather quickly - when the time comes, they die out without lingering attachment.
These are some sakura songs that I like:
河口恭吾(Kyogo Kawaguchi)： 桜(sakura)
アンジェラ・アキ(Angela Aki)： サクラ色（sakura-iro / the color of sakura)
Enjoy!
2013年3月24日日曜日
being stupid
In Japan, being stupid seems something to be loved or appreciated.
As I was making breakfast this morning, my father started talking about "obaka-kyara" (=stupid TV personalities). Their talent is probably that they have no talent (and lately, they seem to be on every channel). I said people liked them because they feel relieved to know there are people who are stupider than them. "It makes them feel good in a way. Having no talent is a talent."
My father said that was exactly why he thought the Japanese ministry of education should ban them. "They deprive the people of their will to progress."
"Well, I don't think they should be banned, but stupidity is only endearing when the person looks good."
"Of course they're good looking. They need something. Otherwise they're just wasting public goods - namely radio waves."
I wonder if this appreciation of stupidity (except on the part of my dad) is something unique to Japan...
As I was making breakfast this morning, my father started talking about "obaka-kyara" (=stupid TV personalities). Their talent is probably that they have no talent (and lately, they seem to be on every channel). I said people liked them because they feel relieved to know there are people who are stupider than them. "It makes them feel good in a way. Having no talent is a talent."
My father said that was exactly why he thought the Japanese ministry of education should ban them. "They deprive the people of their will to progress."
"Well, I don't think they should be banned, but stupidity is only endearing when the person looks good."
"Of course they're good looking. They need something. Otherwise they're just wasting public goods - namely radio waves."
I wonder if this appreciation of stupidity (except on the part of my dad) is something unique to Japan...
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