Sunday, August 24, 2025.
I just finished dinner and I’m now in my apartment in Osaka. During the day, the temperature soared above 36°C, but around 7 p.m., as darkness fell, the sound of rain began, soon followed by rumbling thunder. Since I haven’t drawn the curtains, the lightning flashes reflect strongly across my dimly lit room, colored by the warm glow of an incandescent bulb. And yet, instead of fear, I feel a sense of relief—the long-awaited rain has finally come.
It’s been a while since I last posted. Please forgive me. I was overwhelmed with work, and the stress affected my autonomic nervous system, leaving me unwell and in need of rest. What follows are fragments from my personal notes during my absence. I have many such records, and I’d like to use them as a way to gradually resume posting.
Wednesday, July 16, 2025.
From early morning, cicadas have been crying. Around Kodera Pond and the library lies a small forest, an ideal habitat for them. Opening the window made their chorus even louder. The morning was sunny, but by afternoon the wind grew stronger, and thunder rolled from time to time, bringing unstable weather. Lately, the climate shifts so rapidly. During such times, my autonomic nervous system easily falters, leaving me feeling unwell.
At work, I had four projects that needed to be handed over to the design department. Yesterday, I held a meeting with them and successfully transferred all four. I also completed the technical documentation. Now, as long as I support the exchange of information between clients and designers, the projects should proceed smoothly. Next week, I’ll return to Tokyo for some administrative errands, so I wanted to clear up the more time-consuming tasks beforehand. It’s a relief to have managed that. This morning will end with an internal meeting in the department.
For lunch, I had spicy chige soup and a glass-noodle salad at the company cafeteria. In summer, with salt easily lost through sweat, I often crave spicy food. I think the reason I enjoy project management is deeply tied to my college days working as a waiter.
My experiences at the Kabukicho branch were bitter at first, but after completing training, I began working as an opening staff member at a new restaurant near Machida Station. The place was in the basement of a building—its ground floor occupied by Kumi-do Bookstore—operating from 9 a.m. to 9:45 p.m. I took customers’ orders, relayed them to the kitchen, prepared coffee and parfaits, fetched cakes from the showcase, delivered dishes, handled complaints, changed water glasses, cleared plates, and supported customers until they left satisfied. A waiter serves as the bridge between the restaurant and the guests. Entering university so naïve about the world, this part-time job became my true education in society. In many ways, it parallels what I do now as a project manager.
For someone like me, raised with lessons of mercy and prayer but lacking social resilience, working as a waiter was the best possible choice. It was a job of service, where good deeds translated directly into customer satisfaction. Extending a hand to those in need—whether by serving food, picking up a dropped fork, or cleaning up a spill—mirrored the same spirit. Above all, the words “Thank you” brought me the deepest joy. They made me feel that I was genuinely useful to others.
Of course, it wasn’t all pleasant. Training was strict. The floor manager, once part of a biker gang, was hot-tempered and sometimes grabbed me by the collar as if to strike me. Yet, as an inexperienced student, I truly had countless things to learn about social life. Though quick to anger, the manager was also deeply human, and he hammered proper manners into me.
Since I had daytime classes, I usually worked shifts from 5 p.m. to closing at 11 p.m. on weekdays, and from 2 p.m. to 11 p.m. on weekends. I walked the floor nonstop, cleaned the restaurant after closing, and scrubbed the kitchen with a deck brush. With little money or time for meals, I often survived on just a cream puff sold at the store. My weight dropped to 58 kg, yet I felt oddly suited to the job. Somewhere deep inside, I believed: if I stay here, I’ll learn something valuable.
Though I was often yelled at by chefs and full-time staff—terrifying at the time—looking back, I feel I must thank them.
The rain and thunder still haven’t stopped. In fact, last Thursday, I came down with COVID and spiked a fever of 38.9°C. I went to the hospital, received antipyretics, and my fever subsided in about two days, but I still cannot return to the office until Tuesday. The news has been reporting a surge in COVID cases lately. I plan to work from home on Monday, but for now, I simply want to rest while listening to the sound of the rain.
Canon's Diary 