Is February a Week Shorter This Year?

 A warm and gentle day in Kamakura.
My younger brother’s 49th-day memorial service was held at a local cemetery.
A small coincidence, a crowded street, and a rumor about February being “one week shorter” — all somehow part of the same day.

 

It was an unusually warm day.

My younger brother’s 49th-day memorial service was held at a cemetery here in Kamakura.

Had it been one week earlier, we would have been caught in heavy snow. We were fortunate. Some coincidences are best received quietly, without overthinking them.

After the service, we gathered for a meal at a Chinese restaurant near Komachi Street. Walking through the shopping district, we found it as crowded as ever.

The news has been reporting a sharp decline in Chinese tourists during the Lunar New Year, suggesting that local businesses are struggling. Yet, from what I could see, the number of visitors felt almost just right. People still come. They always do.

Lately, I had the odd impression that this February was passing unusually quickly. Then I heard a rumor—apparently, a “rare phenomenon not seen in 851 years” was occurring this month. It was even mentioned on the radio yesterday.

So that must be it, I thought.

February is one week shorter this year.

Wait.

That cannot be true. February still has 28 days. Losing three days would be one thing—but an entire week?

It turned out to be nothing more than a trick of the calendar. This year, February 1 falls on a Sunday and the 28th on a Saturday. The final row of the monthly calendar is left blank.

That empty row creates the illusion of a shorter month.

And as for the “once in 800 years” phenomenon? Apparently, it happens every decade or so.

One might say those who believe such rumors deserve to be fooled. Still, I have to admit—it was a rather well-crafted joke.

 

Sleep-Deprived at a Web Conference

 After a small research meeting in Tokyo and a late dinner with colleagues, I returned home to Kamakura close to midnight.
Even when the train connections are smooth, Kamakura still feels far away at night.

I took a bath and fell asleep without difficulty. But around three in the morning, I woke up.

I remembered that the finals of the snowboarding and figure skating events were on, so I turned on the television. I drifted in and out of sleep, switching the TV on and off, never quite reaching deep rest. Morning arrived before I knew it.

Ironically, I missed most of the crucial moments in both events.

I would have liked to go back to sleep, but I had a web conference scheduled. So I stayed up and carried out my role as co-presenter and chair.

It was educational, as always. Still, with so little sleep, some parts did not quite settle into my mind.

I am sensitive to the cold and not particularly interested in winter sports. The Winter Olympics do not usually capture my attention. Yet once they begin, I find myself watching anyway.

There is something undeniably moving about young people giving their all.

At the web conference as well, younger colleagues were presenting. Watching them, I felt reassured about the future.

Even through sleepy eyes, it is encouraging to see the next generation steadily stepping forward.

 

A 65-Point CPC

 At yesterday’s CPC, I would give my own presentation 65 points out of 100.
It may have been useful in part, but it certainly was not an “A.”

 

At yesterday’s clinicopathological conference (CPC), I would score my own presentation at 65 points.

Some aspects may have been helpful to those in attendance, but it was not something that deserved an A.

From a pathology standpoint, I had done what I could.
But that alone was not enough.

In particular, my differential diagnosis was not thorough enough.
I could explain the mechanism of death, but I did not fully pursue the deeper question: What ultimately caused that mechanism to occur? That is what still lingers with me.

These days, it is not unusual for audience members to search online in real time and fire off sharp questions based on what they find. It can be daunting.

I would like to do the same myself, but standing before a room full of people, that is not always possible.

Perhaps next time I should consider going fully online, where adapting in real time might be easier.

And yet, there is something deeply gratifying about seeing a large conference room filled with people.

It is not simply about speaking in front of a crowd. What moves me is that so many people gather for a conference organized by pathology. It reminds me that our field still holds weight within the hospital. It makes me feel that I must keep pushing forward.

With the Olympics underway, athletes often say, “I did everything I could.”

But doing what you are capable of is only the starting point. One must search for what more is required.

Athletes who fall short likely do so because something essential was missing—and they know it. That is why defeat brings tears.

Whether it is my presentation or the Olympic stage, neglecting what truly needs to be done leads to the same result: regret.

And this applies to all work.

Only by mastering those necessary steps does one become a true winner. Effort earns respect precisely because it confronts what must be done.

Reaching that level is difficult. And even if one arrives there, a steeper and longer road awaits.

That is life.

A Day of Controlled Chaos

 Some days feel overwhelmingly busy—though I am never quite comfortable with the word “busy.” Perhaps it is more accurate to say that work is simply piling up.

 

Today is one of those days.

Even “overwhelming” may be an exaggeration. After all, I still have the luxury of writing this short post. So perhaps it is merely a moderately full day.

Gross examination in the morning.
Microscopic review in between.
And tonight, a CPC—Clinicopathological Conference.

I should have prepared a bit more for the CPC yesterday. Instead, I was drawn into rearranging furniture at home—well, to be precise, participating in what might better be described as an early spring cleaning. As a result, my preparation was less thorough than I would have liked. I will have to review things in the gaps between tasks.

So, I will keep today’s entry short.

Wherever you are, I hope you can spend the day calmly and without irritation. Life is lived only once. Rather than constantly adjusting our emotional tempo, perhaps it is best to remain steady—just as we are.

Is It Time to Rethink Our Electoral System in the Age of Social Media?

 Whether it is a blog, Instagram, or any other platform, we all “follow” someone. But on what basis do we choose whom to follow? As social media increasingly shapes not only our personal tastes but also our political perceptions, I sometimes wonder what this means for democracy itself.

 

Whether it is a blog, Instagram, or anything else, how do we decide whom to add to our “favorites” or follow on social media?

Do we choose people whose sensibilities and ways of thinking resemble our own—those who post articles or photos that feel familiar to us?

Or do we simply follow accounts that offer beautiful images or well-crafted writing for us to enjoy?

Perhaps it is a mixture of all these reasons. Still, it is a curious phenomenon.

The systems of “favorites” and “follows” appeared roughly twenty years ago. Before long, they became an ordinary part of daily life. Today, people compete over follower counts, and large numbers can even translate into income.

There have long been writers who put their articles behind paywalls. I stopped reading one blog when it suddenly became paid content. I did not feel the writing was worth paying for. It never returned to open access, yet it must still have enough supporters to sustain itself.

Information, in the end, may simply gather among like-minded people. We enclose ourselves within circles that resemble us.

Recently, the use of social media in election campaigns has also become commonplace.

On trains, I often see young people scrolling through YouTube at remarkable speed. I sometimes wonder whether they consume political campaign messages in the same way—quickly, selectively, and within the confines of algorithms.

Just as with blog followers, once someone feels aligned with a particular politician, more and more of that politician’s information flows toward them, while opportunities to encounter different views diminish. Could this be happening already?

It is a little unsettling.

Politicians are rarely professional writers. Yet if they hire skilled bloggers or media professionals to craft their websites, it is entirely possible to construct an attractive and persuasive political persona. Inevitably, some people will be drawn in.

Opportunities to meet politicians directly, to listen in person, and to judge with one’s own eyes are steadily decreasing.

If, as in the most recent general election in Japan, the future of the country can be shaped largely by the popularity of a single political figure, that may be slightly precarious.

Perhaps our electoral system itself—designed for a different era—has reached a point where it deserves reconsideration.

Hoping Our Elected Leaders Will Grow Into Respected Adults

 After weeks of lingering cold even past the start of spring, signs of warmer days are finally beginning to appear. As winter loosens its grip, the political climate, too, has entered a new phase—one that demands patience, restraint, and a sense of responsibility from those who now hold power.

With its overwhelming victory, Prime Minister Takaichi’s Liberal Democratic Party now has four full years to pursue the policies it envisions.

From this point on, whatever course the Takaichi administration chooses must be accepted as the outcome of a democratic process. This is true not only for those who actively supported the ruling party, but also for the nation as a whole, which ultimately produced this result. There is no avoiding that reality.

It is much the same as in the United States, where voters chose Donald Trump and then committed themselves to living with that decision for four years.

Political policies span the spectrum from right to left, and no government can ever satisfy everyone. Still, one can hope for a form of governance that allows as many people as possible to live with a sense of well-being.

Just as important is a genuine effort to dismantle politics driven by vested interests and corruption. Some lawmakers involved in illicit funding may well continue to seek personal gain by any means available. Yet Prime Minister Takaichi’s statement that “this issue is far from resolved” offers at least a small measure of hope.

In today’s society, truly respectable adults seem to be in short supply.

All I can do is hope that each newly elected representative conducts their political work with integrity and transparency, and grows into the kind of adult worthy of public trust.
Politicians who fail to do so should never be forgiven.

 

Japan’s General Election: A Landslide Victory for the Ruling LDP, but Turnout Below 60%

Japan’s recent general election ended in a sweeping victory for the ruling Liberal Democratic Party (LDP), effectively reaffirming Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi’s leadership. While the result brought political clarity, the low voter turnout raises a more uncomfortable question: how many citizens are truly participating in shaping the country’s future?

 

The confidence election for Prime Minister Takaichi concluded with an overwhelming result: the Liberal Democratic Party, Japan’s long-standing ruling party, secured 316 seats on its own—well over a two-thirds majority in the lower house.

In the United States, when voters choose a president—even one who quickly embarks on aggressive policies—there seems to be a shared resolve to accept that choice and live with it for four years. After this election, it feels as though we in Japan are now required to show a similar kind of resolve.

Watching the election coverage last night, it was hard not to feel sympathy for lawmakers from the former Constitutional Democratic Party. Many appeared to fall one after another, paying the price for strategic failures at the leadership level. When defeat reaches such a devastating scale, however, one cannot help but wonder whether the party itself can survive.

Still, a result is a result.

An effective “all-ruling-party” situation is not without its risks, but this is neither military rule nor dictatorship. In that sense, perhaps it can be accepted for what it is.

That said, the prospect of a return to the LDP’s old patterns—collusion, corruption, and money-driven politics—is deeply dispiriting. Even so, there is room to hope that Prime Minister Takaichi, with her relatively clean public image, can prevent the worst of these tendencies from resurfacing.

What lingers most strongly, however, is the voter turnout. It was reportedly around 55 percent.

Whether one votes or not is, of course, a matter of personal freedom. Perhaps the roughly 40 percent who stayed home feel satisfied with that choice.

They probably are.

But when the prime minister speaks of issues that divide the nation, it is worth remembering this: if those same citizens continue to stay away from public debate—and from future referendums—the country may end up moving in directions they never intended.

Or is it enough, after all, for the will of just 55 percent of the electorate to determine the nation’s course?