There is a youth group in Japan called U-Lead(http://www.ulead.jp/). What they are making happen is truly inspiring, and I would like to share their story with you today.
U-Lead is a group of university students in Japan, the only one of its kind officially recognized by Room to Read, an international NGO. If you are not familiar with the purpose and activities of Room to Read, I encourage you to check out their website (http://www.roomtoread.org/).
To put it simply, Room to Read seeks to transform the lives of children in developing nations by focusing on literacy and gender equality in education. They build schools and libraries, distribute books, and award scholarships to girls who would not afford education otherwise. U-Lead was founded by a group of university students who were inspired by the philosophies of Room to Read and wanted to take part in making a difference themselves.
U-Lead is hosting a Twitter-based event on May 21, 2010. It's called "One Dream." The basic idea of the event is simple; by tweeting your dream on May 21, you will be donating 25 yen (about 25 cents) to a cause furthering educational opportunities in India. The live event in the Omotesando Hills is limited to university students. However, through Twitter, anyone can participate in this event from anywhere in the world. Yes, YOU could participate if you so desire.
Recently some criticisms have been voiced with regards to Twitter-based charity event where twitter-based donations were backed by corporate sponsors. Critics assert that the ease of this type of donations numbs our sense of responsibility for and commitment to the cause (after all, the money is not coming out of the tweeter's own pocket). An official blog post by a U-Lead member raised the same concern, the act of authenticity that I found so touching.
I share the same concern too, but I also imagine thousands of people tweeting their dreams and releasing them to the universe, and thereby supporting the dreams of children in India. I find the imagery irresistibly beautiful and exhilarating. I daresay if you and I want to take on more responsibility and take this cause further, we are free to do so. It's just a matter of coming up with ideas and making them a reality.
I am going to tweet my dream on May 21, 2010. The "HOW" of the event will be revealed to us, as the event nears, and I intend to keep you posted. Meanwhile, if you want to learn more about this awesome group, here is the official (Japanese) website of U-Lead (http://www.ulead.jp/).
They also have a Twitter account in Japanese (http://twitter.com/U_Lead) and in English (http://twitter.com/ulead0521). You are invited to follow either one of these as well.
Let's dream our collective dream of unlimited opportunities for children all over the world! Let's dream big!!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
There is a company in Japan who makes an art out of marketing tofu!!
On page 91 Of Seth Godin's linchpin, there is a little sub-chapter titled "Do You Need to Be an Artist to Market Tofu?" .
Upon reading that chapter, I immediately took to typing and wrote an email to Seth, saying, "but actually there is! There is a company in Japan who makes an art out of marketing tofu!!"
To this day it has been my regret that I did not take the time to properly explain to Seth why I think this company is so remarkable, or why I consider what they do as art. In other words, when I wrote to Seth out of my sheer excitement, it was a premature shipping. So I decided to write this blog post to make up for it. (and I will be sure to send the link to Seth.)
The name of the company is Otokomae-Tofu, which roughly means "Good-looking guy tofu." personally I like "Hot Dude Tofu" better, the naming done by Nina Lalli in her blog .
Otokomae-Tofu is a maker of premium tofu. Just how premium is it? Well, usually a block of tofu costs somewhere between $1 and $2, whereas their stuff range from $1.99 to $6.99. According to Shingo Ito, president of Otokomae Tofuten Corp., they use several times more soybean than regular tofu to create richer taste, and they are flown in from Japan to be on the shelf the day after it is made.
At this point I can almost hear my readers say, "So they make expensive tofu with better quality. What is the big deal?" The deal is that they do not just make better-quality, expensive tofu.
If you are not sure what I mean, please check out their website.
http://www.otokomae.com/
Nuts, I know. Right? They have an obnoxious theme song. They have profiles of their real(?) employees with comic illustrations. They have a weird and wacky story seemingly unrelated to tofu, with characters like Don Fun (Don Juan), Karme (Carmen) and Salome. Their products are emblazoned with a big, bold kanji character for "Otoko (male)." They even have original character goods ranging from T-shirts, beach sandals and music CDs to fashion rings.
My point is that they did not have to do all these to sell premium tofu. They use only the finest ingredients. They have a unique manufacturing process. There is a pretty good chance that they could compete solely on the quality.
I think they go out of their ways to have fun, entertain their audience, and emotionally connect with their customers.
Making of tofu is a relatively conservative industry. If you do something out of ordinary, you are running a risk of being considered a "hype," meaning you are intentionally drawing attention away from the quality of the goods because it will not stack up to the competition. It wasn't the case with Otokomae Tofu, though. They really produce the high-quality goods; tofu connoisseurs who know nothing about their website testify for the unforgettable taste of their products.
Also I might point out that, to Japanese eyes, Tofu is an epitome of simplicity. It is white, square, plain and understated. It does not interfere. Neither does it asserts itself. In miso soup it blends in quietly. In a way, tofu is a symbol of the traditional Japanese virtue.
Otokomae-tofu is none of these things; it is loud and obnoxious. It asserts its presence. It wants to be noticed. It is a diva at the center stage. It disrupts. It is in your face. It might as well be a non-tofu.
Otokomae Tofu took the risk, and it paid off for them. They have gained enthusiastic fans who not only love their tofu, but also love their fun-loving, kitschy, outrageous culture. They come back for more. They talk amongst themselves about their favorites. They are a tribe.
Entertaining and forging emotional connections with their fans is their art. For their U.S. audience, Otokomae Tofu even has an official facebook page.
Upon reading that chapter, I immediately took to typing and wrote an email to Seth, saying, "but actually there is! There is a company in Japan who makes an art out of marketing tofu!!"
To this day it has been my regret that I did not take the time to properly explain to Seth why I think this company is so remarkable, or why I consider what they do as art. In other words, when I wrote to Seth out of my sheer excitement, it was a premature shipping. So I decided to write this blog post to make up for it. (and I will be sure to send the link to Seth.)
The name of the company is Otokomae-Tofu, which roughly means "Good-looking guy tofu." personally I like "Hot Dude Tofu" better, the naming done by Nina Lalli in her blog .
Otokomae-Tofu is a maker of premium tofu. Just how premium is it? Well, usually a block of tofu costs somewhere between $1 and $2, whereas their stuff range from $1.99 to $6.99. According to Shingo Ito, president of Otokomae Tofuten Corp., they use several times more soybean than regular tofu to create richer taste, and they are flown in from Japan to be on the shelf the day after it is made.
At this point I can almost hear my readers say, "So they make expensive tofu with better quality. What is the big deal?" The deal is that they do not just make better-quality, expensive tofu.
If you are not sure what I mean, please check out their website.
http://www.otokomae.com/
Nuts, I know. Right? They have an obnoxious theme song. They have profiles of their real(?) employees with comic illustrations. They have a weird and wacky story seemingly unrelated to tofu, with characters like Don Fun (Don Juan), Karme (Carmen) and Salome. Their products are emblazoned with a big, bold kanji character for "Otoko (male)." They even have original character goods ranging from T-shirts, beach sandals and music CDs to fashion rings.
My point is that they did not have to do all these to sell premium tofu. They use only the finest ingredients. They have a unique manufacturing process. There is a pretty good chance that they could compete solely on the quality.
I think they go out of their ways to have fun, entertain their audience, and emotionally connect with their customers.
Making of tofu is a relatively conservative industry. If you do something out of ordinary, you are running a risk of being considered a "hype," meaning you are intentionally drawing attention away from the quality of the goods because it will not stack up to the competition. It wasn't the case with Otokomae Tofu, though. They really produce the high-quality goods; tofu connoisseurs who know nothing about their website testify for the unforgettable taste of their products.
Also I might point out that, to Japanese eyes, Tofu is an epitome of simplicity. It is white, square, plain and understated. It does not interfere. Neither does it asserts itself. In miso soup it blends in quietly. In a way, tofu is a symbol of the traditional Japanese virtue.
Otokomae-tofu is none of these things; it is loud and obnoxious. It asserts its presence. It wants to be noticed. It is a diva at the center stage. It disrupts. It is in your face. It might as well be a non-tofu.
Otokomae Tofu took the risk, and it paid off for them. They have gained enthusiastic fans who not only love their tofu, but also love their fun-loving, kitschy, outrageous culture. They come back for more. They talk amongst themselves about their favorites. They are a tribe.
Entertaining and forging emotional connections with their fans is their art. For their U.S. audience, Otokomae Tofu even has an official facebook page.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Bijin-Tokei (The Beauty Clock)
If you ask me if I am a feminist, or at least if I am sensitive to women's issues, I would say yes. I would publicly stand up to protect women's rights, I mean, my rights.
However, this "Bijin-Tokei (The Beauty Clock)", I could not pass up.
"Bijin-Tokei" is developed by a Japanese company, bijintokei, Inc. It is a downloadable gadget (widget) or application, and as the name suggests, functions as a clock.
Every minute is represented by a photograph of a beautiful woman holding a board telling the minute of the hour. A day consists of 24 hours. An hour consists of 60 minutes. Do the math. If you can stare at Bijin-Tokei for 24 hours non-stop, you get to see all 1,440 photos of beautiful women.
They (supposedly) took to the streets with a camera, spotted beauties of Tokyo, Paris, Seoul, and asked them to pose for a photo with a board. The product became wildly popular in Japan, and is enjoying 240 million PVs a month.
The clock is downloadable to PC desktop and to mobile phones including iPhone. If you would like the mac widget or google gadget, you can downloaded them here.
I found out about Bijin-Tokei through a business associate of mine. A politically correct- and global-minded man that he is, he hesitated for a moment to bring up the subject.
After explaining to me what it was, he inquired, almost coyly. "It would never fly in the U.S., or you think it would...?"
I could not help but say, "No, I'm afraid not."
For several days now since the discussion, I have often pondered. Why do I think it would never fly in the U.S.? Is it offensive? Because it somehow objectifies women? Is it in bad taste? I have actually downloaded the gadget onto my iGoogle desktop and I am waiting to see how I feel.
What do you guys think? I would like to see you guys weigh in on the issue. Just to be fair, though, bijintokei, Inc. is an equal-opportunity objectifier, and they have Binan-Tokei (The Good-looking Guy Clock) as well.
However, this "Bijin-Tokei (The Beauty Clock)", I could not pass up.
"Bijin-Tokei" is developed by a Japanese company, bijintokei, Inc. It is a downloadable gadget (widget) or application, and as the name suggests, functions as a clock.
Every minute is represented by a photograph of a beautiful woman holding a board telling the minute of the hour. A day consists of 24 hours. An hour consists of 60 minutes. Do the math. If you can stare at Bijin-Tokei for 24 hours non-stop, you get to see all 1,440 photos of beautiful women.
They (supposedly) took to the streets with a camera, spotted beauties of Tokyo, Paris, Seoul, and asked them to pose for a photo with a board. The product became wildly popular in Japan, and is enjoying 240 million PVs a month.
The clock is downloadable to PC desktop and to mobile phones including iPhone. If you would like the mac widget or google gadget, you can downloaded them here.
I found out about Bijin-Tokei through a business associate of mine. A politically correct- and global-minded man that he is, he hesitated for a moment to bring up the subject.
After explaining to me what it was, he inquired, almost coyly. "It would never fly in the U.S., or you think it would...?"
I could not help but say, "No, I'm afraid not."
For several days now since the discussion, I have often pondered. Why do I think it would never fly in the U.S.? Is it offensive? Because it somehow objectifies women? Is it in bad taste? I have actually downloaded the gadget onto my iGoogle desktop and I am waiting to see how I feel.
What do you guys think? I would like to see you guys weigh in on the issue. Just to be fair, though, bijintokei, Inc. is an equal-opportunity objectifier, and they have Binan-Tokei (The Good-looking Guy Clock) as well.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Linchpins in Japan
During my recent trip to Japan, I had opportunities to meet many linchpins in Japan. I did not name them as such to their face, but I had a quiet pleasure of recognizing them in my mind.
One such occasion was when I accompanied my boss, @s_ishizuka, to a podcast recording session. He recently published a book called The Zappos Miracles in Japanese and was asked to be interviewed for a podcasting program. The producer/interviewer of this program is a young guy in his late 20s to early 30s. He is one of the best-known alpha bloggers in Japan specialized in book reviews.
My boss has never been recorded for podcasting before, so we had no idea what to expect. When we arrived at the studio, we were amazed by how compact the place was! There was a small table where the interviewer and interviewee (my boss) would sit face to face, and five of us, me and my colleague, a sound engineer and two interns who studied journalism in college sat on the floor circling the table, not unlike children eager to hear a bedtime story.
What moved me about this experience was the handmade quality of the setting. There was nothing extravagant about the studio, but it was well set-up. The sound engineer proudly demonstrated the quality of his recording equipment, a nifty-looking gadget the size of an oversized cell phone. Two curtains hang from the pole on two sides of the tiny room so as to absorb the noise, we were told. And the place smelled of dream and ambition! From this tiny studio just big enough for two people to sleep, they were broadcasting their own version of gospels to the world.
The producer/interviewer told us that he used to be a journalist for a traditional newspaper. Just as he was about to embark on his journey, representing the voice of justice and uncovering the truth for all of us general public to read, he fell ill. He suffered depression, and what finally got him out of the darkness and despair was a book.
From then on, he decided to be a book reviewer and to introduce books of inspiration to young readers like himself. Because books change one's life for the better, he said.
I will never forget the simple but extraordinary feeling of excitement that I felt as I sat on the floor of that compact studio, hugging my knees to my chest. As the quiet but confident voice of the interviewer filled the room and streamed into my ears, I felt strangely connected to the thousands of listeners who were listening to the program out in the world over the Internet. I did not know those people and, most likely we would never meet, but at that very moment I was connected to our collective hope for a better life.
One such occasion was when I accompanied my boss, @s_ishizuka, to a podcast recording session. He recently published a book called The Zappos Miracles in Japanese and was asked to be interviewed for a podcasting program. The producer/interviewer of this program is a young guy in his late 20s to early 30s. He is one of the best-known alpha bloggers in Japan specialized in book reviews.
My boss has never been recorded for podcasting before, so we had no idea what to expect. When we arrived at the studio, we were amazed by how compact the place was! There was a small table where the interviewer and interviewee (my boss) would sit face to face, and five of us, me and my colleague, a sound engineer and two interns who studied journalism in college sat on the floor circling the table, not unlike children eager to hear a bedtime story.
What moved me about this experience was the handmade quality of the setting. There was nothing extravagant about the studio, but it was well set-up. The sound engineer proudly demonstrated the quality of his recording equipment, a nifty-looking gadget the size of an oversized cell phone. Two curtains hang from the pole on two sides of the tiny room so as to absorb the noise, we were told. And the place smelled of dream and ambition! From this tiny studio just big enough for two people to sleep, they were broadcasting their own version of gospels to the world.
The producer/interviewer told us that he used to be a journalist for a traditional newspaper. Just as he was about to embark on his journey, representing the voice of justice and uncovering the truth for all of us general public to read, he fell ill. He suffered depression, and what finally got him out of the darkness and despair was a book.
From then on, he decided to be a book reviewer and to introduce books of inspiration to young readers like himself. Because books change one's life for the better, he said.
I will never forget the simple but extraordinary feeling of excitement that I felt as I sat on the floor of that compact studio, hugging my knees to my chest. As the quiet but confident voice of the interviewer filled the room and streamed into my ears, I felt strangely connected to the thousands of listeners who were listening to the program out in the world over the Internet. I did not know those people and, most likely we would never meet, but at that very moment I was connected to our collective hope for a better life.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Meeting Bodhisattvas
I have pretty much abandoned my blog. Not because of anything in particular, but because I no longer could find the time. With my 12-hour-a-day work, it was simply too much trying to maintain two blogs (one in English, the other in Japanese) and two Twitter accounts.
Recent tweets by @jkellie and @simplybetrue motivated me to check out my blog after a nearly two-month break. To my great surprise, there were several people commenting on my review of Seth Godin's Linchpin.
Sometimes at a perfect moment in one's life, people appear to remind you of something very important that you have almost forgotten. Those people are Bodhisattvas, divine beings. It is a variation of a Buddhist thinking that I have adopted over the years. Every one and every thing that one encounters over the course of one's life is there for a reason. Every good deed that you do for a person, you do that for a buddah. Every one carries a blessing with him/her to bestow upon you a gift to remind you of a life's wonder, a teaching, only if you are open to it.
This led me to another thought. Quite distinctly I was reliving the days after my breakup with a partner of seven years. For months after the breakup, I sleepwalked in a shock and a complex mixture of sadness, bitterness, anger and pessimism. I was able to function at work, but that appeared to be the only thing that I could do properly.
Everything else, I did in an auto-pilot mode. Only the feelings that I mentioned before, sadness, bitterness, anger and pessimism, I could experience as real in my flesh. In a state of numbness I told myself that there was a way out of this. I told myself repeatedly that she, my partner of seven years, was also my Bodhisattva.
As difficult as it was to stomach, instinctively I knew it to be true. The idea of her being my Bodhisattva will save me and will give me the strength to climb out of the misery. She too carried with her a precious gift; she gave me joy and made me see what was dear to my heart, what I held to be true in my life. There was a meaning in our meeting, and there was a purpose to her departure.
The story of my recovery was one that I have to tell some other time. Instead what I wanted to say today was this: from that point on, as I reconstructed my life bit by bit, I had opportunities to recognize many Bodhisattvas in my life time and again. Some were my family, colleagues and neighbors. Others were complete strangers whom I encountered only briefly. Today I recognize you as bodhisattvas, people who have commented on my blog, people whom I have crossed path with in this universe called the Internet. You have reminded me that there is power in believing in what you do. That what is hard may be the only thing worth doing. Sometimes you have to keep going even if you are not sure where the road will take you. I thank you for showing up at just the right moment and for reminding me what I, once again, have almost forgotten.
Recent tweets by @jkellie and @simplybetrue motivated me to check out my blog after a nearly two-month break. To my great surprise, there were several people commenting on my review of Seth Godin's Linchpin.
Sometimes at a perfect moment in one's life, people appear to remind you of something very important that you have almost forgotten. Those people are Bodhisattvas, divine beings. It is a variation of a Buddhist thinking that I have adopted over the years. Every one and every thing that one encounters over the course of one's life is there for a reason. Every good deed that you do for a person, you do that for a buddah. Every one carries a blessing with him/her to bestow upon you a gift to remind you of a life's wonder, a teaching, only if you are open to it.
This led me to another thought. Quite distinctly I was reliving the days after my breakup with a partner of seven years. For months after the breakup, I sleepwalked in a shock and a complex mixture of sadness, bitterness, anger and pessimism. I was able to function at work, but that appeared to be the only thing that I could do properly.
Everything else, I did in an auto-pilot mode. Only the feelings that I mentioned before, sadness, bitterness, anger and pessimism, I could experience as real in my flesh. In a state of numbness I told myself that there was a way out of this. I told myself repeatedly that she, my partner of seven years, was also my Bodhisattva.
As difficult as it was to stomach, instinctively I knew it to be true. The idea of her being my Bodhisattva will save me and will give me the strength to climb out of the misery. She too carried with her a precious gift; she gave me joy and made me see what was dear to my heart, what I held to be true in my life. There was a meaning in our meeting, and there was a purpose to her departure.
The story of my recovery was one that I have to tell some other time. Instead what I wanted to say today was this: from that point on, as I reconstructed my life bit by bit, I had opportunities to recognize many Bodhisattvas in my life time and again. Some were my family, colleagues and neighbors. Others were complete strangers whom I encountered only briefly. Today I recognize you as bodhisattvas, people who have commented on my blog, people whom I have crossed path with in this universe called the Internet. You have reminded me that there is power in believing in what you do. That what is hard may be the only thing worth doing. Sometimes you have to keep going even if you are not sure where the road will take you. I thank you for showing up at just the right moment and for reminding me what I, once again, have almost forgotten.
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