It’s never easy to name one.

Most of the time, what stays with you

is a single song.

Sometimes just a chorus.

Sometimes just the opening notes.

To love the whole album,

that’s rare.

Maybe with a single-track release,

you can count them all.

But with a full record—

not so easy.

Back then, I did buy albums.

Listened again and again.

Sometimes, the greatest hits instead.

Even now, I still hold on to Mai Kuraki’s 2004 compilation Wish You The Best.

To me, that was her peak.

Also one of the brightest times

of her ties with Detective Conan.

The last track—Tonight I Feel Close to You,

a duet with Stefanie Sun.

Two different voices,

woven into one harmony.

It still moves me today.

For thematic albums,

I turn to the sounds of nature.

Bandari’s Wonderland.

Wu Chin-Tai’s Forest Rhapsody.

Melodies close to the earth,

always leaving a quiet peace inside.

And as I write these lines,

recalling each piece,

it isn’t only memory.

Silently, almost without noticing,

I find myself back again,

floating in the ocean of music.

Which topics would you like to be more informed about?

In Taiwan, on my way to work,

I often notice that more than a third of the cars on the road are luxury models.

This sight leaves me with constant doubt and curiosity:

How does one earn enough wealth to drive such cars?

Is it the reward of relentless effort?

The favor of chance?

Or perhaps a rule of the game I have yet to understand?

I am not envious—just curious.

Because this question lingers in my mind like a quiet shadow.

Maybe this is one of the topics I want to understand more deeply:

Wealth—not merely the accumulation of money,

but the mindset, the choices, the vision behind it.

To understand wealth is to see another side of society,

and to remind myself that learning is not only about knowledge or skills,

but also about the wisdom of engaging with reality.

What would your life be like without music?

Without music, life would feel plain.

Without melody, emotions lose their outlet.

A walk is just a walk, a commute is just a commute.

Music is like seasoning in food.

Life goes on without it, but with less flavor.

When walking, commuting, exercising, even praying,

a melody still rises in my mind, keeping me company.

Without music, life might still continue,

but it would be like a silent film—

all images, without a soul.

How do you celebrate holidays?

When I saw the prompt “How do you celebrate holidays?”, the first thing that came to mind wasn’t fireworks, parties, or trips.

It was Namie Amuro’s classic love song CAN YOU CELEBRATE?.

Maybe it’s a bit off-topic, but the mood of that song perfectly matches how I feel about celebrating holidays.

To me, holidays don’t have to be loud or extravagant.

They are moments to slow down,

to quietly feel—

gratitude for the people around me,

gratitude for the paths I’ve walked,

and gratitude that I can still spend this time with those who matter most.

The atmosphere of CAN YOU CELEBRATE? isn’t noisy; it’s gentle and tender.

And for me, that’s what holidays are—

an inner celebration,

without flashy ceremonies,

just a quiet certainty:

we can keep walking together.

Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.

I once baked a loaf of bread that turned completely black.

The golden dream I imagined came out as a heavy lesson.

Later, I tried a coffee cake.

I poured in plenty of real coffee powder,

yet what came out carried no fragrance—only a quiet bitterness.

Some suggested adding flavoring, to make it smell right.

I didn’t reject the idea,

but I chose to stay with what was real.

Perhaps that’s what baking reminds me of:

it’s not about perfection,

but about finding the taste I’m willing to keep

between the black and the faint.

Not every loaf needs to be golden, not every cake needs to smell perfect.

What matters is the taste you choose to keep.

Share a lesson you wish you had learned earlier in life.

When I was a kid, I used to watch Chibi Maruko-chan.

Her older sister once said, “Life is always full of regrets.”

Back then, I thought it was just a teenager being overly dramatic.

Now I see how true it is.

Life is nothing but endless choices, and we can never be certain if another path would have been better.

Was my effort wasted? Was my decision right? No one can answer that.

But here’s what I finally understand:

If I put thought into my choices, then even when the outcome hurts, it leaves only regret’s gentler cousin—a quiet sense of what might have been, not the weight of what should not have been.

Too often, I was impatient.

Too quick to act without thinking.

If only I had learned earlier that slowing down is not weakness—it is wisdom.

When I was a child, the answer was obvious—anything sweet would instantly win my heart.

But once you pass forty, things get more complicated. You start to weigh health, habits, and even practice a bit of self-suggestion, reminding yourself to stay away from what isn’t good for you.

These days, my favorite foods shift with the moment.

When life allows, I enjoy a fine meal of steak or fresh seafood in a pleasant setting.

On hot days, nothing beats a chilled matcha drink or matcha ice.

When the weather turns cold, a steaming bowl of grass jelly soup is just right.

And from time to time, I find myself craving an authentic bowl of Japanese ramen.

Still, one truth remains:

no matter how delicious the food, the best taste comes from sharing it with the one you love. ❤️

How often do you walk or run?

“How often do you walk or run?”

At first, it sounds like a question about exercise.

But I believe it carries something deeper.

Maybe it is asking:

In the rush of life, how often do I pause,

and let my feet touch the ground of reality?

Maybe it is reminding me:

How often do I care for my body,

and let my breath and heartbeat return to a natural rhythm?

Or perhaps it is questioning:

When pressure builds,

do I run to release,

or walk to reflect?

Walking and running are not just actions.

They are mirrors of life.

They show how I connect with the world,

and how I relate to myself.

More importantly,

to keep a healthy body and a steady mind,

so I can face the future with calm and strength.

Do you see yourself as a leader?

Recently, I was fortunate to be promoted to a leadership role.

To be honest, not much has changed.

Colleagues still come to me with their problems,

and I must now stand by my own decisions.

A good leader, perhaps, is simply this:

to move forward with a goal,

to take responsibility for what is undecided,

and to carry wisdom along the way.

It reminds me of traveling abroad.

At first, I led everyone in finding the way,

but being unfamiliar with the city, I took the wrong path.

(And trust me, you don’t want to wander blindly

through the maze of Japanese subway stations.)

Even a child had to correct me.

But soon, I regained focus,

and the rest of the journey went on the right track.

Failure is never the end.

Rising again is where leadership begins.