This is an essay on science I found interesting written by Junichiro Hashimoto（橋元淳一郎）:
Science obviously has a practical side. It has brought material wealth into human civilization. The true purpose of science, however, is not the pursuit of material wealth. It is to seek what truly exists, and it derives from the ancient Greek philosophy.
Plato tells us a very intriguing story in his book The Republic: In a long narrow cave, there are some prisoners who have been locked in a pillory since birth. Because of the pillory, they can only see the wall of the cave; they have never seen the world behind their back. Behind them, there is a little stage where a puppet show goes on. Even further behind the stage near the entrance of the cave is a bonfire. The shadows of the puppet reflect on the walls.
The prisoners who have only seen the walls their entire life, believe that the moving shadows are the only existence in the world. To them, the only reality is the shadows. However, if one of the prisoners were unlocked from the pillory and was allowed to look behind, he will see the puppets on the stage and probably be astonished. The scene would be unbelievable to him, but if he hasn't lost his reason, he would realize that what he had believed was reality had only been the shadows of the puppets. He will know that the puppets they could not see up until then was true existence, and that what they always saw had only been an illusion.
After telling us the story, Plato says that the prisoners are nothing but us humans, and that what we see in everyday life is only the shadows of what truly exists.
Plato called this true existence 'idea（イデア）'. He says that idea is never to be seen, but without it, this world (which is its shadows) will not exist. This can never be proved and thus, Plato's idea is nothing but an armchair theory. If you can not prove it, it is not science.
However, to regard that only perceptible or verifiable things are the truth only brings us down to being one of the prisoners locked in a pillory. This universe is not as simple as it seems. It is natural to think that the truth lies beyond human experience and comprehension.
Lately it is said that this world is not three but ten dimentional, which means we can not "see" seven dimentions. It is also said that 96% of space is an unknown existence, namely dark matter and dark energy.
The true purpose of science is not only to explain the mechanism of what we can see, but to unlock the pillory we tend to lock oursleves in without knowing it.
(Translated and edited by me)
2014年1月12日日曜日
because everyone says
世の中で事実とされていることは、反証されていない仮説の集まりに過ぎない。
What are regarded as facts in this world are merely a collection of hypothesises that haven't been proved wrong.
When I was a child, I used to use the word "everyone" to explain a lot of things: "Because everyone has it." "Because everyone says so." "Because everyone's going." Every time, my mother asked me who "everyone" was, why "everyone" mattered so much, and finally, not what "everyone" thought but what I thought.
When I met up with my best friend O from high school on Christmas Day, we took a couple of pictures in front of some pretty decorations. O led me to a popular shooting spot where we found many people standing in line. I chose a decorated tree right next to us instead and said it looked pretty enough for a picture. After we were done with our selfie, O asked if I really didn't care for a shot at the popular shooting spot. I said I didn't want a picture that so many people had. "Everyone has it; look at that line."
"You're going to be a difficult customer if you ever came to our store." O sells TVs as a living (though her dream is to work with people in the screens). She explained that there was a line that worked magic when she said it at the right timing, namely when a customer was just one step away from deciding to actually buy the product. "Everyone buys this."
I looked around at the people swarming on the streets and at the department store we went into. The Japanese economy is surely on the rise but I assumed that some of the people shopping there probably hadn't gotten a raise themselves but shopped nonetheless just because "everyone" shopped.
Because everyone's wallet was getting heavier, so were theirs. Because everyone wants it, so do they. It's the same with stocks; "everyone" buys and then everyone buys. Until the bubble pops.
What are regarded as facts in this world are merely a collection of hypothesises that haven't been proved wrong.
When I was a child, I used to use the word "everyone" to explain a lot of things: "Because everyone has it." "Because everyone says so." "Because everyone's going." Every time, my mother asked me who "everyone" was, why "everyone" mattered so much, and finally, not what "everyone" thought but what I thought.
When I met up with my best friend O from high school on Christmas Day, we took a couple of pictures in front of some pretty decorations. O led me to a popular shooting spot where we found many people standing in line. I chose a decorated tree right next to us instead and said it looked pretty enough for a picture. After we were done with our selfie, O asked if I really didn't care for a shot at the popular shooting spot. I said I didn't want a picture that so many people had. "Everyone has it; look at that line."
"You're going to be a difficult customer if you ever came to our store." O sells TVs as a living (though her dream is to work with people in the screens). She explained that there was a line that worked magic when she said it at the right timing, namely when a customer was just one step away from deciding to actually buy the product. "Everyone buys this."
I looked around at the people swarming on the streets and at the department store we went into. The Japanese economy is surely on the rise but I assumed that some of the people shopping there probably hadn't gotten a raise themselves but shopped nonetheless just because "everyone" shopped.
Because everyone's wallet was getting heavier, so were theirs. Because everyone wants it, so do they. It's the same with stocks; "everyone" buys and then everyone buys. Until the bubble pops.
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18日水曜日
vannamei shrimps
Since the year is about to end, some news programs seem to be bringing up old news that caught the public attention this year.
A couple of months ago, it caused a flutter when it turned out that a famous hotel in Osaka (was it Ritz?) had "decieved" the customers who had come to the restaurant. They had used vannamei shrimps instead of shiba shrimps, and normal leek instead of kujo leek.
People were furious. I found it hilarious. I mean, who cares if you can't tell the difference anyway? The hotel manager ended up apologizing for the "misunderstanding" in the kitchen, but I thought he should've told everyone to tell them something was wrong with the shrimps and leeks the moment they noticed -- which would be while the customers are actually eating them at the restaurant. Not when an insider leaks the info.
I do see the potential problem. They shouldn't use rotten food just because we wouldn't notice (though I hope we would in that case). Doctors shouldn't "decieve" patients just because patients don't have enough knowledge to notice the doctor's error.
But in this case, it's just a shrimp. And we found out that vannamei shrimps were cheap and good!
A couple of months ago, it caused a flutter when it turned out that a famous hotel in Osaka (was it Ritz?) had "decieved" the customers who had come to the restaurant. They had used vannamei shrimps instead of shiba shrimps, and normal leek instead of kujo leek.
People were furious. I found it hilarious. I mean, who cares if you can't tell the difference anyway? The hotel manager ended up apologizing for the "misunderstanding" in the kitchen, but I thought he should've told everyone to tell them something was wrong with the shrimps and leeks the moment they noticed -- which would be while the customers are actually eating them at the restaurant. Not when an insider leaks the info.
I do see the potential problem. They shouldn't use rotten food just because we wouldn't notice (though I hope we would in that case). Doctors shouldn't "decieve" patients just because patients don't have enough knowledge to notice the doctor's error.
But in this case, it's just a shrimp. And we found out that vannamei shrimps were cheap and good!
2013年6月8日土曜日
prof and porn
I might be too naive or something but is it only me who finds it uncomfortable talking about sex and porn with a professor? I mean, I don't think it's wrong at all to talk about sex, but at the same time, I think there are more appropriate topics when a student talks with a prof even outside school.
But curious S (I had dinner yesterday with her and a professor; S is ten years older than me btw) suddenly asked if it was okay for a brilliant doctor who could save 10,000 lives to have an affair in return. I didn't get what was in return of what. But that conversation expanded and expanded and led to the prof talking about when he went to a conference in Austria where he watched porn at the hotel. He was amazed with the Austrian "culture" of "strong women who turned aggressive towards the end". Sara seemed to enjoy it a lot but I wanted to go home. (It was pretty ironic how the next topic was how to react when you didn't find funny what the other person found funny. Oh, but was it me who brought it up?)
Don't get me wrong; I usually like the prof and we did have some interesting conversations too. Like the three principles of life,
1. 精神を壊すほど大したことは、人生においてほとんどない There are very few things that are worth sacrificing our mental health for.
2. 自分は大したことのある人間だとは思わない方がいい Don't expect too much of yourself -- always keep in mind there's little we can do
3. 放り投げる勇気が大事 Be brave enough to give up
We also talked about even more serious stuff like how when a doctor faces a patient, it's only one body out of a hundred other for him, while it's very different for the patient -- it's the only body he has. If the doctor makes a mistake, he has another chance, but the patient?
I'm not saying I *only* enjoy talking about life principles and answer-less philosophical questions; I don't go around forcing my friends a debate on "how to be happy". I enjoy meaningless conversations. And I probably can enjoy talking about sex. But with certain kind of people. Definitely not my professor!
But curious S (I had dinner yesterday with her and a professor; S is ten years older than me btw) suddenly asked if it was okay for a brilliant doctor who could save 10,000 lives to have an affair in return. I didn't get what was in return of what. But that conversation expanded and expanded and led to the prof talking about when he went to a conference in Austria where he watched porn at the hotel. He was amazed with the Austrian "culture" of "strong women who turned aggressive towards the end". Sara seemed to enjoy it a lot but I wanted to go home. (It was pretty ironic how the next topic was how to react when you didn't find funny what the other person found funny. Oh, but was it me who brought it up?)
Don't get me wrong; I usually like the prof and we did have some interesting conversations too. Like the three principles of life,
1. 精神を壊すほど大したことは、人生においてほとんどない There are very few things that are worth sacrificing our mental health for.
2. 自分は大したことのある人間だとは思わない方がいい Don't expect too much of yourself -- always keep in mind there's little we can do
3. 放り投げる勇気が大事 Be brave enough to give up
We also talked about even more serious stuff like how when a doctor faces a patient, it's only one body out of a hundred other for him, while it's very different for the patient -- it's the only body he has. If the doctor makes a mistake, he has another chance, but the patient?
I'm not saying I *only* enjoy talking about life principles and answer-less philosophical questions; I don't go around forcing my friends a debate on "how to be happy". I enjoy meaningless conversations. And I probably can enjoy talking about sex. But with certain kind of people. Definitely not my professor!
2013年6月6日木曜日
pseudo-experiences
We're not immortal. We can't transport ourselves through time. There's a limit to what we can experience. I used to think fiction did the trick to help us with that sad reality. By reading a novel and jumping into the imaginary world, we can experience anything.
But I realized at some point that fiction was fiction. It can grab our hearts and make us cry but still, when I face the vividness of reality, I think it's almost always better than fiction. Maybe it's because I haven't read fiction in a long time. But even when I did, I was pretty lazy. I never read Dostoevsky or Goethe or Hemingway; I only read works of writers who most likely had read their works. And because I was not only lazy but also arrogant, I believed that you didn't necessarily have to read Hemingway to get a Hemingway-ish insight. After all, he's everywhere. I understood enough about what he had to say by reading other people's works that were easier to read. Sort of like the food chain: cows eat corn, we eat cows, and the corn as a result becomes part of our body. Or maybe like having soup with some beef extract instead of beef itself.
Which I now understand are two very different things. The soup can always be just water without no beef extract whatsoever. And of course the chewing is what counts if you want to grow your brain muscle. No matter how many times I come across the transformed version of the world's greatest works, it will never be equal to reading the original work, just like eating cow is different from eating corn. What's worse, when you're at the top of the food chain, the foods you eat can be densely polluted. Something that was very thin at the bottom of the pyramid can be condensed at the top.
On a side note, there might come a day when 'fiction' could become 'reality' in our minds. Like I've probably written before, everything happens in our brain. I hear that there is a research going on that would enable people to experience a 100 year life in a couple of weeks. So maybe when you're diagnosed with an incurable disease that would kill you in a month, you could experience the rest of your life in your head before you die. And maybe we could all have a happy ending. Doesn't sound bad, does it?
But I realized at some point that fiction was fiction. It can grab our hearts and make us cry but still, when I face the vividness of reality, I think it's almost always better than fiction. Maybe it's because I haven't read fiction in a long time. But even when I did, I was pretty lazy. I never read Dostoevsky or Goethe or Hemingway; I only read works of writers who most likely had read their works. And because I was not only lazy but also arrogant, I believed that you didn't necessarily have to read Hemingway to get a Hemingway-ish insight. After all, he's everywhere. I understood enough about what he had to say by reading other people's works that were easier to read. Sort of like the food chain: cows eat corn, we eat cows, and the corn as a result becomes part of our body. Or maybe like having soup with some beef extract instead of beef itself.
Which I now understand are two very different things. The soup can always be just water without no beef extract whatsoever. And of course the chewing is what counts if you want to grow your brain muscle. No matter how many times I come across the transformed version of the world's greatest works, it will never be equal to reading the original work, just like eating cow is different from eating corn. What's worse, when you're at the top of the food chain, the foods you eat can be densely polluted. Something that was very thin at the bottom of the pyramid can be condensed at the top.
But after all, I still think it's a very efficient way of getting
nutrients. I am so lazy!
On a side note, there might come a day when 'fiction' could become 'reality' in our minds. Like I've probably written before, everything happens in our brain. I hear that there is a research going on that would enable people to experience a 100 year life in a couple of weeks. So maybe when you're diagnosed with an incurable disease that would kill you in a month, you could experience the rest of your life in your head before you die. And maybe we could all have a happy ending. Doesn't sound bad, does it?
2013年5月16日木曜日
red!
Aunt Flo came and gave me a surprise attack during microbe experiment today. Guess what happened to my white coat.
Goe (a male classmate): Let's go get our coat sterilized.
Me: Hm...
Goe: Let's go.
Me: I'll go after you.
Goe: Huh? What's up?
Yu (a female classmate who knows what's going on under my butt): Leave her alone, Goe. Let's go.
Goe: What is it? I'm not going until you tell me.
Me: ...I think I have something on my coat.
Goe: What?
Me: *looks behind at my own butt*
Goe: Oh... THAT...
Me: What, you see it?
Goe: No, you're fine. Uh... I guess I'll go.
The girls helped me out of trouble after that. It was so embarrassing...
Goe (a male classmate): Let's go get our coat sterilized.
Me: Hm...
Goe: Let's go.
Me: I'll go after you.
Goe: Huh? What's up?
Yu (a female classmate who knows what's going on under my butt): Leave her alone, Goe. Let's go.
Goe: What is it? I'm not going until you tell me.
Me: ...I think I have something on my coat.
Goe: What?
Me: *looks behind at my own butt*
Goe: Oh... THAT...
Me: What, you see it?
Goe: No, you're fine. Uh... I guess I'll go.
The girls helped me out of trouble after that. It was so embarrassing...
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3月31日日曜日
beansprout
In Japan, there are two ways to get into med school: 1. get in right after high school, 2. get in after graduating a university with a different major. The latter is sort of a special route; the applicants are something like thirty times as many as the fixed number, and most universities only take up to 10 students. It's a pretty competitive exam and the majority of the applicants go to this certain cram school for preparation. They either take classes or watch the classes recorded on DVDs. The cram school is located in three cities: Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya. The story I'm going to write about today is about a guy who went to the school in Osaka. My classmate, Ryoji happened to have been in the same class and told me about him non stop while we drove back from a park where we enjoyed hanami (花見 = when people sit under cherry trees and drink, except that we didn't drink; we ate under the cherry tree and played badminton later - exactly why my muscles are hurting).
He was white and thin with drooping eyes and slender fingers. Ryoji called him Beansprout. He would look what people were watching in the DVD room to check who was studying to get into med school (the school had programs for other exams too), and he would give his number to every girl who was studying to get into med school (-- he always carried cards with his number on to give out to girls walking on the streets and whatnot). Soon, girls started swarming around him. He had graduated from one of the most prestigious universities with a major in agriculture.
But he wasted his intelligence to lead an "easy life". When he heard that T university was the easiest to get in as long as you were from T prefecture, he used his smart head to think of ways to become a T prefecture inhabitant. Was it enough to make a girlfriend from T prefecture? Did he have to have a couple from T prefecture adopt him? His thoughts were always somewhat beside the point and immature - the reason Ryoji called him Peter Pan (as in Peter Pan from Peter Pan Syndrome).
One day, Beansprout aka Peter Pan lost one of his textbooks. When Ryoji asked what happened, he said it was going to be a long story, but he told Ryoji anyway - he had met a new girl with big boobs and heavy makeup and had started studying with her. The girl turned out to be a daughter of a rich med school professor, and he went to her house occasionally to "teach her" and had left some of his textbooks at hers. He got locked out and could no longer ask her to give him back the textbook.
I didn't quite feel sorry for the guy yet, but the story went on: His initial purpose of coming to the cram school was to flirt with girls but he soon had another purpose; he got acquainted with some bad classmates and started to plan bad stuff, i.e. he secretly/illegally recorded the class DVDs and planned to sell them. He was awfully serious about this business, and he would arrive at the DVD room early in the morning even before Ryoji. But the school eventually found out what he was doing and started posting notices saying not to use personal computers in the DVD room. When that didn't stop Beansprout, they posted more and more notices until he had nothing left to do but to read a tabloid in the DVD room.
But smart Beansprout still had plan B. He decided to go to the school in Nagoya and record DVDs there. The bad guys all agreed and Beansprout, burdened with all their expectations went off to Nagoya, cheating on the fare. (He loved cheating on the fare.) When he sneaked into the school, it was unexpectedly small and the staffs soon noticed Beansprout and asked what he was doing. He said he was a student going to the school in Osaka. He said he had wanted to see the DVDs of the classes held in Tokyo. He complained to the executive that it was unfair that the students in Nagoya got to see what the students in Osaka couldn't. In the end, the executive agreed to send him the DVDs.
When Beansprout got them, he soon had another plan. He asked his female classmates if they wanted to buy/rent the DVDs, which sort of backfired - they got mad that he had personally gotten the DVDs and insisted to the school that they also had the right to watch them. The school accepted their complaint and students in Osaka soon were able to watch the DVDs of classes held in Tokyo.
After this consequently great contribution, Beansprout decided to quit his DVD business. The executive only sent him one course so he had other courses to record but he didn't have the guts to continue. The bad guys started putting pressure on him. They said it was too late to give up. When they saw that Beansprout was reluctant, one of the bad guys suggested Beansprout that he make money in the entertainment/media industry. He said he had good connections and that he could introduce Beansprout to one of the executives. So that motivated Beansprout to continue with his DVD recording. He had never really wanted to be a doctor in the first place. He just wanted to make a lot of money. And he had started to realize that he was somewhat too unprepared for his exam. He hid in the toilet with his PC and kept recording DVD after DVD.
This was where I finally started feeling sorry for this Beansprout guy, and the story only got worse. When the connection guy got into med school, Beansprout asked him to introduce him to the executive in the entertainment industry. The connection guy was annoyed, and eventually cut him off. Left with nothing but the DVDs, Beansprout started working as a tutor. He gave the DVDs to the bad guys out of fear, but he kept one or two classes to himself - the strongest resistance he could manage.
I wouldn't say Beansprout is exactly an endearing character, but I still hope this isn't the end of his story, that he would lead a happy life in some way. Ryoji said I was wasting my wishes but that's the way I feel anyway.
He was white and thin with drooping eyes and slender fingers. Ryoji called him Beansprout. He would look what people were watching in the DVD room to check who was studying to get into med school (the school had programs for other exams too), and he would give his number to every girl who was studying to get into med school (-- he always carried cards with his number on to give out to girls walking on the streets and whatnot). Soon, girls started swarming around him. He had graduated from one of the most prestigious universities with a major in agriculture.
But he wasted his intelligence to lead an "easy life". When he heard that T university was the easiest to get in as long as you were from T prefecture, he used his smart head to think of ways to become a T prefecture inhabitant. Was it enough to make a girlfriend from T prefecture? Did he have to have a couple from T prefecture adopt him? His thoughts were always somewhat beside the point and immature - the reason Ryoji called him Peter Pan (as in Peter Pan from Peter Pan Syndrome).
One day, Beansprout aka Peter Pan lost one of his textbooks. When Ryoji asked what happened, he said it was going to be a long story, but he told Ryoji anyway - he had met a new girl with big boobs and heavy makeup and had started studying with her. The girl turned out to be a daughter of a rich med school professor, and he went to her house occasionally to "teach her" and had left some of his textbooks at hers. He got locked out and could no longer ask her to give him back the textbook.
I didn't quite feel sorry for the guy yet, but the story went on: His initial purpose of coming to the cram school was to flirt with girls but he soon had another purpose; he got acquainted with some bad classmates and started to plan bad stuff, i.e. he secretly/illegally recorded the class DVDs and planned to sell them. He was awfully serious about this business, and he would arrive at the DVD room early in the morning even before Ryoji. But the school eventually found out what he was doing and started posting notices saying not to use personal computers in the DVD room. When that didn't stop Beansprout, they posted more and more notices until he had nothing left to do but to read a tabloid in the DVD room.
But smart Beansprout still had plan B. He decided to go to the school in Nagoya and record DVDs there. The bad guys all agreed and Beansprout, burdened with all their expectations went off to Nagoya, cheating on the fare. (He loved cheating on the fare.) When he sneaked into the school, it was unexpectedly small and the staffs soon noticed Beansprout and asked what he was doing. He said he was a student going to the school in Osaka. He said he had wanted to see the DVDs of the classes held in Tokyo. He complained to the executive that it was unfair that the students in Nagoya got to see what the students in Osaka couldn't. In the end, the executive agreed to send him the DVDs.
When Beansprout got them, he soon had another plan. He asked his female classmates if they wanted to buy/rent the DVDs, which sort of backfired - they got mad that he had personally gotten the DVDs and insisted to the school that they also had the right to watch them. The school accepted their complaint and students in Osaka soon were able to watch the DVDs of classes held in Tokyo.
After this consequently great contribution, Beansprout decided to quit his DVD business. The executive only sent him one course so he had other courses to record but he didn't have the guts to continue. The bad guys started putting pressure on him. They said it was too late to give up. When they saw that Beansprout was reluctant, one of the bad guys suggested Beansprout that he make money in the entertainment/media industry. He said he had good connections and that he could introduce Beansprout to one of the executives. So that motivated Beansprout to continue with his DVD recording. He had never really wanted to be a doctor in the first place. He just wanted to make a lot of money. And he had started to realize that he was somewhat too unprepared for his exam. He hid in the toilet with his PC and kept recording DVD after DVD.
This was where I finally started feeling sorry for this Beansprout guy, and the story only got worse. When the connection guy got into med school, Beansprout asked him to introduce him to the executive in the entertainment industry. The connection guy was annoyed, and eventually cut him off. Left with nothing but the DVDs, Beansprout started working as a tutor. He gave the DVDs to the bad guys out of fear, but he kept one or two classes to himself - the strongest resistance he could manage.
I wouldn't say Beansprout is exactly an endearing character, but I still hope this isn't the end of his story, that he would lead a happy life in some way. Ryoji said I was wasting my wishes but that's the way I feel anyway.
2013年3月29日金曜日
dreams
Another essay I read recently:
After taking the bar exam for ten years, I was suffering to decide whether to continue or not. I had started studying law at 34 and had begun taking the bar from 37. I was already in my mid forties. I was raising a child while working; unlike young examinees, it was impossible for me to study all day. It was becoming harder and harder for me to memorize things.
Was this a reckless challenge after all? Were all my efforts a waste? Was it a mistake that I even started taking this exam? I feared my life ending without ever accomplishing anything. I felt left behind and lonely when I saw my classmates pass. When I faced reality, it seemed wiser to give up.
That year, I decided to sacrifice everything - I quit my job, cut my sleeping time, did everything I could think of. When I took the exam, I thought something must be wrong if I didn't pass.
However, I couldn't find my number when the Ministry of Justice released the results. I cannot remember how I reached home. I tiptoed into the house, went into my room, and cried for the first time. That was when my son peeked into the room. I think he was still in elementary school. I usually left him to take care of himself; all I could do was place the meals on the table. I would not have noticed if he had been bullied at school. He was a victim of my exam-centered life.
"I'm thinking of quitting taking the exam" I said. My son said, "but it's your dream, right?"
Those words made me come back to life. I changed how I viewed my examination. It was indeed my dream. The reason I hated myself and couldn't forgive myself was because I expected myself to pass. I felt miserable because I hated myself. If it was a "dream", it was natural that it didn't come true. If it did, it was an amazing miracle. I began to like myself when I thought I was striving for my dream. I thought I should stop complaining because it was a path I chose.
What I learned through my examination life was to trust my own decisions. It is impossible to obtain everything. You have to decide on your own what to give up. When you make a decision, you have to stick to it. You should never look back. Then you can love yourself and keep smiling.
~ Masako Kamiyama （神山昌子）
She passed the bar after 23 attempts and became a lawyer at 61. "I cried when I passed. That, and the time I almost gave up - those were the only occasions I cried."
After taking the bar exam for ten years, I was suffering to decide whether to continue or not. I had started studying law at 34 and had begun taking the bar from 37. I was already in my mid forties. I was raising a child while working; unlike young examinees, it was impossible for me to study all day. It was becoming harder and harder for me to memorize things.
Was this a reckless challenge after all? Were all my efforts a waste? Was it a mistake that I even started taking this exam? I feared my life ending without ever accomplishing anything. I felt left behind and lonely when I saw my classmates pass. When I faced reality, it seemed wiser to give up.
That year, I decided to sacrifice everything - I quit my job, cut my sleeping time, did everything I could think of. When I took the exam, I thought something must be wrong if I didn't pass.
However, I couldn't find my number when the Ministry of Justice released the results. I cannot remember how I reached home. I tiptoed into the house, went into my room, and cried for the first time. That was when my son peeked into the room. I think he was still in elementary school. I usually left him to take care of himself; all I could do was place the meals on the table. I would not have noticed if he had been bullied at school. He was a victim of my exam-centered life.
"I'm thinking of quitting taking the exam" I said. My son said, "but it's your dream, right?"
Those words made me come back to life. I changed how I viewed my examination. It was indeed my dream. The reason I hated myself and couldn't forgive myself was because I expected myself to pass. I felt miserable because I hated myself. If it was a "dream", it was natural that it didn't come true. If it did, it was an amazing miracle. I began to like myself when I thought I was striving for my dream. I thought I should stop complaining because it was a path I chose.
What I learned through my examination life was to trust my own decisions. It is impossible to obtain everything. You have to decide on your own what to give up. When you make a decision, you have to stick to it. You should never look back. Then you can love yourself and keep smiling.
~ Masako Kamiyama （神山昌子）
She passed the bar after 23 attempts and became a lawyer at 61. "I cried when I passed. That, and the time I almost gave up - those were the only occasions I cried."
2013年3月26日火曜日
Yesterday, I heard that twitter had 200 million users. I've never been interested in twitter though; I've read articles about it, and I've heard about it on the news, and I've seen people tweet in movies and whatnot, but I just don't get it. Why do people bother to write down their every thought or action for the general public to see? I mean, I see the similarities between blogging and tweeting, but when I say tweeting, what I imagine is something like this:
I'm at the supermarket now. Looking for an avocado.
Found it next to the cucumbers, but they're all too soft.
I wonder if they aren't rotten inside.
I admit this might be one of the worst examples, but to me, it seems a bit morbid that someone even feels the need to write this down. It's as if modern people are too lonely that they need to be talking to someone constantly. They need a response for everything, and luckily, the virtual society called the internet enables that. Or maybe it's the other way around: the internet enabled people to get a response anywhere anytime so they feel lonely when they get none, and they end up tweeting more in hopes of getting a response this time. Perhaps a bit like an addiction?
But I guess it sounds a bit too sentimental to say the internet created low tolerance to loneliness, or the state of being alone.
I'm at the supermarket now. Looking for an avocado.
Found it next to the cucumbers, but they're all too soft.
I wonder if they aren't rotten inside.
I admit this might be one of the worst examples, but to me, it seems a bit morbid that someone even feels the need to write this down. It's as if modern people are too lonely that they need to be talking to someone constantly. They need a response for everything, and luckily, the virtual society called the internet enables that. Or maybe it's the other way around: the internet enabled people to get a response anywhere anytime so they feel lonely when they get none, and they end up tweeting more in hopes of getting a response this time. Perhaps a bit like an addiction?
But I guess it sounds a bit too sentimental to say the internet created low tolerance to loneliness, or the state of being alone.
2013年3月24日日曜日
nothing important
So I was trying to put this seal over my ipad today (they recommended I put it on to keep the screen clean) and my dad sort of tried to help me, but we kind of messed up and ended up getting a lot of dust-like particles on the seal, hence a lot of blisters between the seal and the ipad. Now I realize this sounds どうでもいい(nothing important). But we both sort of got upset with the situation. "It looks like my ipad has chicken pox."
"Can't you just push those air out?"
"I can't!"
"Well, look. It says you should only peel 5cm first, and then stick the seal little by little. You peeled too much"
"Yeah, I should've read the directions more carefully... but you were too stubborn about keeping that part in the right place; it doesn't work that way because see? ..."
"I think I should've done it"
I don't care a bit about the chicken pox now, but it seemed like the biggest problem on earth just a couple of hours ago.
And it reminded us both about an incident that occurred 15 years ago: I wanted to put a round sticker on the plastic body of a little measure, and I was wondering how I could stick it right in the middle. Dad came along saying he would do a great job. I trusted him with all my heart and handed him the measure and the sticker. He did it pretty carefully - I still remember. But when he handed it back to me, the sticker was not in the middle. It was stuck slightly to the right (or left). I think I tried to take it off and re-do it but the damage had already been done.
I remembered it as one of the very few incidents my dad disappointed me. He remembered it from the other side: "You looked at me with very sad eyes - it was a traumatic experience. That's why I wasn't confident enough today"
It's funny how we remember these kinds of things that aren't important at all. Well, I guess it's a good example that shows the morbid perfectionism that runs in our blood, but the good part is, it seems like we're both growing up. Like I've noticed that in many cases, it's just a short period of time that you care so much about a certain thing. If you can get over that time, you realize it was nothing important.
"Can't you just push those air out?"
"I can't!"
"Well, look. It says you should only peel 5cm first, and then stick the seal little by little. You peeled too much"
"Yeah, I should've read the directions more carefully... but you were too stubborn about keeping that part in the right place; it doesn't work that way because see? ..."
"I think I should've done it"
I don't care a bit about the chicken pox now, but it seemed like the biggest problem on earth just a couple of hours ago.
And it reminded us both about an incident that occurred 15 years ago: I wanted to put a round sticker on the plastic body of a little measure, and I was wondering how I could stick it right in the middle. Dad came along saying he would do a great job. I trusted him with all my heart and handed him the measure and the sticker. He did it pretty carefully - I still remember. But when he handed it back to me, the sticker was not in the middle. It was stuck slightly to the right (or left). I think I tried to take it off and re-do it but the damage had already been done.
I remembered it as one of the very few incidents my dad disappointed me. He remembered it from the other side: "You looked at me with very sad eyes - it was a traumatic experience. That's why I wasn't confident enough today"
It's funny how we remember these kinds of things that aren't important at all. Well, I guess it's a good example that shows the morbid perfectionism that runs in our blood, but the good part is, it seems like we're both growing up. Like I've noticed that in many cases, it's just a short period of time that you care so much about a certain thing. If you can get over that time, you realize it was nothing important.
diary
I'm such a himajin (ヒマ人 = people who have a lot of time); I found my old homework assignments:
A trip to the moon
I am going to the moon from 8th January with mummy and daddy. The earth is like a blue and green giant ball. In Space there is no air so we have to wear the Space suite all the time. I do not like my Space suit because we don't have any small Space suits and its very big for me. All so the space suit is too heavy and I can't move. I saw a star like an alian. when I saw it I thought that I was an alian too. The trip is all most finished. I don't want to wear a space suit but I want to live on the huge moon. bye bye moon
I wrote this when I was around seven. It was written three months after I returned to Japan. Three years later when I was abroad again (from a diary):
Today, like always I went to school. At school, we have this "Friendship Quiz" (which Paige made up). Everyone makes "Friendship Quiz" and give it to their friends. I'm making one for Paige. I've already made one for Emily and Katie. By the way, Emily gave me a "Friendship Quiz" and I got a 100%.
On a different day:
Good news - I don't have homework today. Well, only French. Bad news - it's about yesterday. In English we have "conprehention" and my friend always asks me the page in the book that gives answers to the questions. I told Sierra the pages and as a result, she got an A and I got an A minus. I think it wasn't fair so from now on, I am not going to tell answers. (The reason I got A minus and Sierra got A is because Sierra had less spelling errors.)
I don't even remember this Sierra, but I can see why I was upset. Though if my child were ever upset because of the same reason, I might tell her not to be too sour. "Give her all the answers if she wants them. You lose nothing." Sierra will. But I think it's Sierra's parent's job to do something about it.
Either way, I'm glad I studied hard. I know my English is still not that good, but if I could go back and talk to my past self, I'll tell her not to cry because her efforts will bear fruit. "It takes time, but I promise you won't regret." I want to hug her and tell her that I really really appreciate her efforts.
A trip to the moon
I am going to the moon from 8th January with mummy and daddy. The earth is like a blue and green giant ball. In Space there is no air so we have to wear the Space suite all the time. I do not like my Space suit because we don't have any small Space suits and its very big for me. All so the space suit is too heavy and I can't move. I saw a star like an alian. when I saw it I thought that I was an alian too. The trip is all most finished. I don't want to wear a space suit but I want to live on the huge moon. bye bye moon
I wrote this when I was around seven. It was written three months after I returned to Japan. Three years later when I was abroad again (from a diary):
Today, like always I went to school. At school, we have this "Friendship Quiz" (which Paige made up). Everyone makes "Friendship Quiz" and give it to their friends. I'm making one for Paige. I've already made one for Emily and Katie. By the way, Emily gave me a "Friendship Quiz" and I got a 100%.
On a different day:
Good news - I don't have homework today. Well, only French. Bad news - it's about yesterday. In English we have "conprehention" and my friend always asks me the page in the book that gives answers to the questions. I told Sierra the pages and as a result, she got an A and I got an A minus. I think it wasn't fair so from now on, I am not going to tell answers. (The reason I got A minus and Sierra got A is because Sierra had less spelling errors.)
I don't even remember this Sierra, but I can see why I was upset. Though if my child were ever upset because of the same reason, I might tell her not to be too sour. "Give her all the answers if she wants them. You lose nothing." Sierra will. But I think it's Sierra's parent's job to do something about it.
Either way, I'm glad I studied hard. I know my English is still not that good, but if I could go back and talk to my past self, I'll tell her not to cry because her efforts will bear fruit. "It takes time, but I promise you won't regret." I want to hug her and tell her that I really really appreciate her efforts.
2013年3月15日金曜日
in reality
Two years ago when the Tohoku earthquake occurred, I watched a debate on whether we should offer high pay to the workers at the nuclear power plant -- so that we could recruit more workers. I think most people were against the idea because it took advantage of poverty -- it was a crime against humanity. "There would be no problem if one chose to risk his health of his own free will, but poor people with no work will reluctantly take the dangerous job for money. It's unfair because they're practically forced to jeopardize their health. They have no choice."
Of course they have no choice. Not many want to be homeless and worthless. I agree that no one should have to face the difficult choice of whether to die on the streets as a homeless man or to work near a broken down nuclear power plant with leaking radioactivity. But in reality, under today's social system, there are people who live on the streets. I assume that not a few of them would rather bear some radiation and work for the people and get some money to rebuild a new life.
And that's what the comment above is actually saying: having a risky job is better than dying in a ditch so "they have no choice" but to take the job. By being paternalistic and insisting no one should be "forced" to earn money by risking their health, we're denying the chance of a homeless man to survive and to have a better life.
I think the same applies to the surrogate mother industry in India, and the prostitution industry prevailing all over the world, and many other jobs that requires workers to "use" their body.
And another related topic: buying and selling of organs. It's prohibited. But giving your organ to your loving child is considered a right thing to do. Why? What if you have ten children to support and the only way to earn enough money is to sell one of your kidneys? I know most people are fooled and never get the money they were offered, but if you really could save your starving children by selling your organ, isn't that the same as giving your organ to your loving child?
The only reason I can think of to my own question - why regulations are necessary in certain areas - is that in most cases, earning money by risking your body/health is NOT the only choice. When your eyes are clouded with poverty and desperateness, the option of using your body becomes a great temptation - it might seem like the only choice. But there are other options as long as you can open your eyes and clear the mist in front of you. I believe paternalistic regulation might be necessary in these kinds of situations to clear the mist.
We become sensitive when it comes to issues relating to our body but we actually take risks of all kind all the time; it's impossible to live without taking risks. No one should have to sacrifice their body/health but if that is truly the only way to survive, I think no one is entitled to take that chance away. After all, the principal condition to live a better life is to survive.
Of course they have no choice. Not many want to be homeless and worthless. I agree that no one should have to face the difficult choice of whether to die on the streets as a homeless man or to work near a broken down nuclear power plant with leaking radioactivity. But in reality, under today's social system, there are people who live on the streets. I assume that not a few of them would rather bear some radiation and work for the people and get some money to rebuild a new life.
And that's what the comment above is actually saying: having a risky job is better than dying in a ditch so "they have no choice" but to take the job. By being paternalistic and insisting no one should be "forced" to earn money by risking their health, we're denying the chance of a homeless man to survive and to have a better life.
I think the same applies to the surrogate mother industry in India, and the prostitution industry prevailing all over the world, and many other jobs that requires workers to "use" their body.
And another related topic: buying and selling of organs. It's prohibited. But giving your organ to your loving child is considered a right thing to do. Why? What if you have ten children to support and the only way to earn enough money is to sell one of your kidneys? I know most people are fooled and never get the money they were offered, but if you really could save your starving children by selling your organ, isn't that the same as giving your organ to your loving child?
The only reason I can think of to my own question - why regulations are necessary in certain areas - is that in most cases, earning money by risking your body/health is NOT the only choice. When your eyes are clouded with poverty and desperateness, the option of using your body becomes a great temptation - it might seem like the only choice. But there are other options as long as you can open your eyes and clear the mist in front of you. I believe paternalistic regulation might be necessary in these kinds of situations to clear the mist.
We become sensitive when it comes to issues relating to our body but we actually take risks of all kind all the time; it's impossible to live without taking risks. No one should have to sacrifice their body/health but if that is truly the only way to survive, I think no one is entitled to take that chance away. After all, the principal condition to live a better life is to survive.
2013年3月12日火曜日
looking too young
So I walked two stations with my mom today to a movie rental shop. On our way back, we walked by a lingerie shop that was having a sale and I suddenly remembered I needed to buy a new bra. I actually don't know how long you can use a bra if you're wearing it every other day, but I usually know it has outlived its usefulness if I've worn it more than two years.
Either way, I walked into the store with my mom and asked the clerk if she could measure my size (because it seems like my breasts have shrunk lately). She kindly selected a couple of products that were my size and came into the fitting room to see how my breasts had "settled" into the cups, only to find out none of the bras she had picked fit me. So she selected another couple of bras and asked me to try them on. I didn't like the designs but I put them on anyway and while I was trying to fit my breasts into the cups, I heard the clerk telling my mom that it might be a "difficult time" for me: "I think she's still not used to gathering her breasts into the cups. And she's probably still growing." Well, my high school days have almost sunk into oblivion, but I guess if I walked into a lingerie shop on a Monday afternoon in my sweats with my mom without make up on, I still look like a high school student. Or maybe younger - who knows? My mom, by the way, played along and said nothing about my actual age.
On a side note, I was making 豚汁 (ton-jiru = pig soup = miso soup with a lot of vegetables and a bit of sliced pork) with my mom this evening and she looked into the freezer to find a small bag of pork. She saw the label and cried: 「これ、平成１２年って書いてある！(OMG, it says best before Heisei* 12!」
Me: ほんとに？(Are you sure?)
Mom: うん、見て。平成12って書いてあるから。(Yeah, look!)
Me: ・・・2012じゃなくて？(I don't think that's Heisei 12 - it looks more like 2012)
*the Japanese dating system; Heisei means "the era of the Heisei emperor", though we only call him by that name after he passes away. Heisei 12 = 13 years ago.
Either way, I walked into the store with my mom and asked the clerk if she could measure my size (because it seems like my breasts have shrunk lately). She kindly selected a couple of products that were my size and came into the fitting room to see how my breasts had "settled" into the cups, only to find out none of the bras she had picked fit me. So she selected another couple of bras and asked me to try them on. I didn't like the designs but I put them on anyway and while I was trying to fit my breasts into the cups, I heard the clerk telling my mom that it might be a "difficult time" for me: "I think she's still not used to gathering her breasts into the cups. And she's probably still growing." Well, my high school days have almost sunk into oblivion, but I guess if I walked into a lingerie shop on a Monday afternoon in my sweats with my mom without make up on, I still look like a high school student. Or maybe younger - who knows? My mom, by the way, played along and said nothing about my actual age.
On a side note, I was making 豚汁 (ton-jiru = pig soup = miso soup with a lot of vegetables and a bit of sliced pork) with my mom this evening and she looked into the freezer to find a small bag of pork. She saw the label and cried: 「これ、平成１２年って書いてある！(OMG, it says best before Heisei* 12!」
Me: ほんとに？(Are you sure?)
Mom: うん、見て。平成12って書いてあるから。(Yeah, look!)
Me: ・・・2012じゃなくて？(I don't think that's Heisei 12 - it looks more like 2012)
*the Japanese dating system; Heisei means "the era of the Heisei emperor", though we only call him by that name after he passes away. Heisei 12 = 13 years ago.
2013年3月11日月曜日
3.11
It's been exactly two years since the Tohoku earthquake. I feel bad that I haven't done anything for the victims over the past two years. When the earthquake ocurred, I was busy trying to figure out where my own future was heading. After a year, I was busy studying to get into school. And now, I'm still busy doing my own stuff.
When I see people suffering, it reminds me of why I decided to become a doctor. I want to be able to help them (probably because it feeds my ego but I'll think about that later). It's sometimes frustration that I'm too busy preparing to help people that I can't help them now.
I wonder which is better - helping 10 people now, or helping 1000 peopple in the future. It's sort of like comparing the value of today's 100 yen and tomorrow's 10000 yen. It's not an all-or-nothing question; I could probably help 5 now and 1000 more later. But at the end of the day, I find myself opening a textbook and telling myself I can help them later when I'm more qualified. The lack of motivation makes me tired of myself.
So today, I will do the least I can do: pray.
When I see people suffering, it reminds me of why I decided to become a doctor. I want to be able to help them (probably because it feeds my ego but I'll think about that later). It's sometimes frustration that I'm too busy preparing to help people that I can't help them now.
I wonder which is better - helping 10 people now, or helping 1000 peopple in the future. It's sort of like comparing the value of today's 100 yen and tomorrow's 10000 yen. It's not an all-or-nothing question; I could probably help 5 now and 1000 more later. But at the end of the day, I find myself opening a textbook and telling myself I can help them later when I'm more qualified. The lack of motivation makes me tired of myself.
So today, I will do the least I can do: pray.
2013年3月7日木曜日
2013年3月4日月曜日
challange from 89
Fauja Singha, an Indian man of English nationality started running at age 89 when he lost his wife and son. He ran a full Marathon twice - when he was 100 years old and 101 years old. Apparently, he's a retired runner now but when he was asked how elderlies in Japan could be like him, he answered he walked and jogged 16km every day. Not exactly what every 100 year old can do...
I wouldn't advise my grandma to run 16km but I should tell her about this Sikhist. It's amazing that he turned his sorrow into something positive.
I wouldn't advise my grandma to run 16km but I should tell her about this Sikhist. It's amazing that he turned his sorrow into something positive.
2013年2月26日火曜日
reading
The other night, I met up with my friends and we talked about novels at one point. One guy said he never read novels - he only reads "parts of textbooks". He said he was never moved by anything, or at least he couldn't remember any moments like that, which sounds horrible, but I didn't feel sorry for him at all. He's always a bit too realistic but he really is a happy nice guy who wouldn't mind driving more than two hours to go see a friend's basketball match the day before a fairly important exam. And he's the kind of guy who comes to school late because of bad hangovers and still gets As all the time.
He's good at drawing and likes wasting money on "UFO catcher" games. He used to be a pharmacist and used to study drugs for breast cancer. He isn't "into breasts" anymore because he saw too many of them. He takes home fried chickens in his pocket when he's drunk and lies down on the school bench when he has a horrible hangover. He doesn't have a father but has a black cat called Moon. His nose bleeds every few months, and he can't wash dishes without gloves on because he's allergic to dish washing liquid. He's skinny and tall and has a funny haircut that sort of makes him look like a mushroom.
If you remember the Right Arm Peel Incident when A decided to peel the right arm with K and asked me to do the left arm - the side which was sort of twisted - the guy who tried to help me was him. He came over and said he was a "professional" when it came to holding arms in the right position, but I was almost finished and was really tired so I ended up telling him it was too late. But he really is a decent guy. He can be super lazy but he's a really warm and kind person. And of course there's nothing wrong with being lazy (as long as it's not when he's operating on me).
Either way, reading means so much in my life. I couldn't really imagine a life without reading but I guess my friend proves that life can still go on without reading.
He's good at drawing and likes wasting money on "UFO catcher" games. He used to be a pharmacist and used to study drugs for breast cancer. He isn't "into breasts" anymore because he saw too many of them. He takes home fried chickens in his pocket when he's drunk and lies down on the school bench when he has a horrible hangover. He doesn't have a father but has a black cat called Moon. His nose bleeds every few months, and he can't wash dishes without gloves on because he's allergic to dish washing liquid. He's skinny and tall and has a funny haircut that sort of makes him look like a mushroom.
If you remember the Right Arm Peel Incident when A decided to peel the right arm with K and asked me to do the left arm - the side which was sort of twisted - the guy who tried to help me was him. He came over and said he was a "professional" when it came to holding arms in the right position, but I was almost finished and was really tired so I ended up telling him it was too late. But he really is a decent guy. He can be super lazy but he's a really warm and kind person. And of course there's nothing wrong with being lazy (as long as it's not when he's operating on me).
Either way, reading means so much in my life. I couldn't really imagine a life without reading but I guess my friend proves that life can still go on without reading.
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