Global Japanese Connect

Living life means experiencing all sorts of things every single day, doesn’t it? As I wrote a bit about in a previous blog post, I’ve been struggling lately with second-hand smoke around our house. Of course, I have no right to dictate whether someone chooses to smoke. But with the second-hand smoke drifting right into

As we hit our late thirties and forties, life seems to demand more of us—in our careers, our families, and our social circles. We often find ourselves in the role of the problem-solver, the mediator, or the one holding it all together. But when was the last time you felt truly heard? And more importantly,

Yesterday, while waiting for the bus, I sat on a bench and was suddenly approached by a woman in her 80s. She began sharing her life story with me. “I don’t use makeup, and I don’t dye my hair,” she said. “How old do you think I am?” (Even though she had already told me

The other day, when I saw that memo that read “Notified, but did not show” at my destination, my heart stung a little, leaving me feeling restless and annoyed. As humans, living life means we inevitably run into moments where things don’t go our way, or situations that just frustrate us. Yet, on another ordinary

The other day, while I was waiting for my turn at a reservation-only place out and about… right at the crucial moment when my name was supposed to be called in just a few minutes, an urgent phone call came in (why do they always happen at times like this?). I had no choice but

Yesterday, my home intercom broke down, so I had a repair technician come over to fix it. Once the repair was safely finished, the technician went out to the gate to test it and called out through the intercom, “Can you hear me?” From inside the house, I cheerfully replied, “I can hear you!” …Or

Reflections on everyday frustrations and the true nature of conflict I may talk a big game about “wishing for world peace,” but lately, I’ve been boiling over with a very local kind of frustration. It’s all about neighborhood cigarette smoke. Whenever someone smokes near my front door, the wind kindly carries second-hand smoke straight into