Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

Flip through any media covering the latest startup world; it is not hard to assume what is considered "success" in this space. Firms that can achieve massive growth, general excitement from investors for further investment, and leverage additional resources for further development are the poster boys of the industry. Logically, such media coverage focuses on how growth enables scale, which in turn allows certain products and services offered by such successful firms to fulfill thus-far untapped needs of customers worldwide, introduce new conveniences, and improve lives.

In real life, I am not fond of salespeople. When I receive an unsolicited sales call, I tend not to pick up. If it is from someone I do not know in real life, I would block the phone number. When I receive sales emails and text messages, I largely ignore them. I would like to have control over how, when, and about what topics I speak to others, on my own terms. Being rushed, or worst yet, manipulated, to make a decision will likely lead to increased skepticism and a greater possibility of a "no." My feelings about sales have been so strong that I assume that others largely have the same attitude.

For many companies, managing staff performance has become more systematized as the organization expands and becomes more complex. A system of KPIs, individual contributions to company targets, and regular meetings with managers ensure some sort of standardization as to how each employee is measured against their peers and the expectations of their roles. To ensure objectivity and trackability, the performance targets are often quantified in easily comprehensible and comparable ways. 

A trip from my parental home in the northern suburbs of San Diego to the city center is quite a journey. Swapping through multiple trains, buses, and even a few Ubers, not to mention walks and wait times, each journey quickly becomes a two-hour-plus ordeal, physically draining due to the blazing sun of southern California and visually unappealing due to the constant sights of multilane freeways and shrub-filled canyons. Even in a car, the journey is not shortened by much, as rush-hour traffic has cars piled up in queues every time there is a red light.

The railway station was certainly a nondescript one. A little hallway straddling the railway leads to a flight of stairs opening up to a small traffic circle. Besides the station itself, there is a small park and a few late-night eateries and bank outlets. Nothing out of the ordinary for a very provincial town a good half an hour away by the slow train from the nearest big city. However, on the curbside is a small bus stand, equally nondescript, that advertises a once-every-half-an-hour service to an outlet mall on the outskirts of this nondescript town. That's where I met the Taiwanese couple.

The rest area of the massive public bathhouse in a nondescript suburb of Chiba felt almost like a converted hotel lobby. Rows after rows of relaxing armchairs faced a massive ceiling-to-floor window, facing a cove and the open skies. The sea's waters felt tranquil at night, with occasional fishing boats bobbing on the surface. The cove is curiously flanked by shopping malls, parking lots, and a steel mill, all sprouting activities even as the evening winds down. Farther off in the distance are the skyscrapers of Tokyo, lit up in the night sky. A cloudless day brings bright moonlight that completes the whole picture.

People have stereotypes about other countries. These stereotypes help people make sense of countries they have no first experience interacting with. It can be exhausting to navigate the almost endless nuances of sociocultural, political, and economic differences. Shorthand labels, however crude and oversimplifying they may be, provide, at times, practical starting points for people to build knowledge of a topic that they have little background in. For those who are emigrating to another country or coming into contact with people of another nationality for the first time, having a starting point is certainly better than not having one.

The father was quite dismissive. And this is after more than an hour of conversation concerning the student's situation, peppered with specifics of what classes to take, what extracurricular activities to undertake, and how to prioritize many tasks related to applying to overseas universities. While it is never certain what others mean when they say certain things, my approaching the conversation as an advisor of university admission matters and overall time management needs certainly did not leave as strong of an impression as the fact that I am ultimately attempting to sell something.

It has been a little over two months since I officially switched over to a new job . The position involves daily communication with various students dreaming of going to top schools around the world, as well as their often anxious parents, with the ultimate aim of selling consulting services that improve every aspect of their university applications. The first weeks on the job have been about learning the different services on offer, what would be enticing and persuasive from the perspective of potential clients, and how to verbalize the benefits our services ultimately provide.

What do you think of when someone asks what your "dream" is? For me, it is something that is entirely detached from reality. I dream of becoming the president of the US, never mind that I am not allowed to because I was born outside the country. Maybe going to space? Never mind that I have neither the physical nor intellectual attributes to start that journey. The point of a dream, for me, is not anything related to its objective likelihood. It represents the heart's ultimate desire, without bothering with the rationality behind how to achieve it.

This blog started in 2010 to chart my life out of four tumultuous years as a student at Yale University. Those four years were at times traumatizing and left me with emotional scars that, at times, led me to conclude the very worth of going to Yale in the first place. The struggles of not only classes at a high level, but the social expectations of Yale students all being future leaders, lead to pressures to succeed in professional and academic ways that many, including myself, were not mentally prepared for. Some students excelled in such pressurized environments, while many others lost their ways.

A regular theme of this blog is self-reflection. Just a few months ago , I was looking back on my past year as a 33-year-old, wondering what is the next step now that I had my fourth anniversary working with Blackpeak, graduated from my Ph.D. program at the University of Tokyo, got married, as well as became certified in Teaching English as a Second Language, Fraud Examination, and Anti-Money Laundering, all in the matter of one year. A new life project beckons, but at the time, I was unsure what that would be or where it would happen.

It has been more than 16 years since I graduated high school. Many memories of my old days as a public school student in San Diego are fading, not the least because I have practically never lived in the city since graduation. But a recent request to summarize some tips on how I managed to get from a no-name high school to Yale has triggered a need for me to do a relatively rare self-reflection on my four years. It is not an easy one since so many other things that happened in my life since 2006 have been much more memorable and noteworthy than anything I've done back then.

Every few years, a movie would come out that extols the need for people to relax, escape the dog race, and enjoy the moment. As unrealistic as the prospect of workers, living paycheck-to-paycheck, suddenly being freed from the daily grind might be, the idea of being somewhere else (really, anywhere else) is such a commonly dreamt dream that such escapist movies continue to be made. To ensure that the remotest prospects of freeing oneself from the capitalist system of labor have at least some sort of tantalizing feasibility, the escapist genre would add familiar storylines and twists to bring the exotic down to earth.

The term "international exchange" can be ambiguous and all-encompassing. Everything from having foreigners presenting the basics of foreign foods and customs to kids in elementary schools  to much more serious seminars in which businessmen get together to discuss how to market their products in foreign lands can be defined under the umbrella of international exchange. In between these two extremes lie a plethora of community events, supposedly held by people with the casual, non-monetarily incentivized hobby of knowing about what's outside Japan.

It is a genuinely odd thing to be tasting injera  in a nondescript suburb of Tokyo for the very first time in my life. But the fermented spongy flatbread made with Ethiopian staple grain teff was certainly the star of the show at the small Ethiopian restaurant. The place certainly was not easy to find. Located among rows after rows of mass-produced two-story residential buildings, interspersed with noisy highways overhead and little-used rivers, there is a small house that was only notable for the small menu board outside and a colorfully printed menu on its front wall. 

My wife often complains that my writing is not concrete enough. To her, my articles always seem to be circling around concepts and theories, with a dearth of concrete details that can make those abstract ideas grounded in the realities and experiences of day-to-day life. It is a point that I have to grudgingly concede on multiple occasions. Ideas are great to think about as mental exercises of "why" and "how come," but if they have any relevance as grounds for actionable plans, supplementing them with the "what" and "how" is imperative, and frankly, quite difficult.

みなさんは「旅」という言葉を聞く時、どのようなものがまず頭に浮きますか？見たことのない美しい街並み、食べたことがない料理の味、そして想像もしていなかった運命の出会い。それが私にとってまず思いつくことです。旅からは、日常生活では得られない未知と触れ合える刺激を期待し、出発から遥か前よりその期待でワクワクを感じています。実際に旅でその期待が満たされるかどうかはわからないものの、ただ単に何か違うものを経験できる可能性があるだけでも毎日のルーティンに久しぶりの新鮮さが現れることを感じます。

Doing sales to potential clients has never been my strong suit. Fresh out of undergrad, I used to work in sales for the Japanese e-commerce firm Rakuten, where I truly struggled with the high-pressure tactics and the rigorous performance evaluation based on KPIs. It was no wonder that I left Rakuten less than a year after I happily joined the firm, directionless and somewhat traumatized by the experience doing sales for the firm. Ever seen then, all of my jobs have been "back office," handling operations and content creation with no direct interaction with end clients.

虽说我常常以“三种语言同样流利”自居，中文绝对不能说是我的强项。自从五岁离开中国后，我的中文教育大部分都是通过阅读不同教材自学，加上在家里随便讲讲。除了几个月在台湾的工作，以及大学假期在北京和上海的实习，我从不成在完全说中文的环境里长久居住。