Hi, everyone!
These days I’ve found new use of my PC while checking my e-mail and some sites. To listen to music on the Internet radio, especially 80’s hit music, is fantastic. (There is a special radio station for only 80’s. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?) When I have to concentrate on some articles, I just turn down the volume on it. My golden days as a high-school and college student are almost 80’s when Western music, yogaku, became very popular among younger people. I used to watch the TV program Best Hit USA every week. There were a lot of music videos on the program, and I enjoyed Madonna, M.Jackson, and others. What a good old days…! I prefer 80’s music to today’s one, because those have dramatic, sensitive, and touchable sense for me.
So, see you tomorrow. Good bye.
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Hi, ladies!!!
How are you doing? Is everything OK with you? I sincerely hope so.
I was planning to attend today’s Jonathan’s discussion meeting and looking forward to it, but I had something to do very urgently and thus could not make it. I am sure that everyone who attended the meeting had a fascinating time as usual.
I read an interesting medical book for the general public recently and the doctor author stated that Japanese women made more complaints about stiff shoulders than Western counterparts probably because that female Japanese had more slope than women Westerners. It may be so…I really don’t know about it, but this reference reminded me of the sight of a middle-aged couple (man and woman, by the way) I had at Victoria Station in London while I was waiting for my bus. The man, probably a husband, was massaging the shoulders of the woman, probably his wife. Yes, he was doing that in public, and I just smiled to myself.
Have you ever asked your husband to massage your shoulders? I, myself, rarely do that. My father was massaging my mother’s shoulders almost every night when I was a middle school student, and I felt so sorry for him and even sympathized with him for that. That’s the reason I seldom ask my husband to massage me. Normally I massage myself, and sometimes with a little massage machine, which I bought several months ago for 5000 yen or so.
Well, I think I have to go back to my work, my dear friends. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye, bye…
Hello, Cherry and friends
Today we had Jonathan’s class. We talked about a relationship between seniors and juniors in Japanese society. Jonathan said it shows vertical relationships existing in Japanese society. We treat seniors with respect, using polite language. If we have learned that we shouldn’t speak seniors in casual way. If we do so, we are considered impolite and rude. That might lead to bad relations and bullying. High-school students learn such wisdom about hierarchical society through club activities, where there are strict tacit rules to obey. Anyway, how to behave is “culture” and language itself is “culture”. Jonathan said that westerners speak more casually and equally even their bosses, teachers or seniors.
Well, we have a guest today. She is a friend of Jonathan. This is her first attending, but she talked a lot her opinion briskly with vivid expression. Wow, I was very overwhelmed with her positive frank manner and fluent clear English.
Please join the next Jonathan’s class, friends. Now, I’ll say “bye!”.
My dearest friends,
It is April 16. Midnight. It will be sunny. I sometimes ask my DT to give me a massage. Her hands which were small and weak gain strength and get bigger. While having massage, I can feel she has grown up steadly. Unfortunately these days she is a little busy and overwhelming that I hesitate to ask her.
Today I'd like to write about another river near my house. Its name is the Yamazaki River. There are many cherry trees and rape flowers along the river. The contrast of pink and yellow always attracts me every early spring. Over the bridge my DT and I once threw a tiny bread for the seagulls, Yurikamome like someone who did that. We later knew it was not recommended for the cleaness of the city. I was ashamed. But to see the birds flying and catching the bread was so interesting. Of course I told her that it was not accepted reluctantly. It is a sour memory.
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