Bunkai

 

Coqui

In my study of Deep Neural Networks (DNN), I wanted to explore text-to-speech (TTS).

One problem I wanted to solve is that my blog posts mix English and Japanese.

After exploring various TTS options, I switched from monolingual Japanese models to Coqui’s XTTS, a multilingual system that can speak English and Japanese in the same voice. The difference was immediate. Kokoro sounded OK for pure Japanese, but it forced English into Japanese phonetics. XTTS, on the other hand, handled mixed-sentence structures smoothly and maintained a consistent female voice across both languages.

I am happy to meet you、よろしくお願いします。Today we can study together、一緒に勉強しましょう。

With a few lines of code and a reference audio clip, XTTS generated natural-sounding speech for an entire paragraph, blending English greetings, simple Japanese phrases, and everyday expressions. Both languages were pronounced correctly, with tone and pacing that felt unified. Importantly, the model applied the same cloned voice to every line, exactly what I need for a bilingual macOS avatar.

The output quality is now good enough to move forward. The next step will be fine-tuning the model on a larger dataset of my own recordings, integrating the TTS pipeline into a SwiftUI interface, and eventually building a complete English-Japanese teaching assistant that speaks in a clear, friendly voice. An audiobook generator could be possible. For now, hearing mixed-language speech flow naturally from my own custom voice model feels like a small but meaningful success.

Mt. Si

 Dropping kids to school in Snoqualmie. Elks, mountains.

soups

Many online videos warn about vegetables you should never eat, especially those rich in oxalates. The tone is dramatic. The reality is much more benign.

I grew up with Polish soups like barszcz (beet soup) and pomidorowa (tomato soup), and now I often cook Japanese bowls like miso shiru (味噌汁) or soba (蕎麦). My soups are based on broth, slow cooking, and simple balance. They do not fit the fear-based approach that thrives on the internet.

The research on oxalates has a solid foundation, but it does not condemn these foods. The risk mainly applies to people who already form kidney stones or who eat high-oxalate foods without enough minerals.

When vegetables like beets meet warm broth, the story changes. A good bone base carries calcium and magnesium. These bind oxalates in the gut, lower absorption, and make the meal gentle on the kidneys. Traditional cooking understood this long before anyone named the chemistry.

In Poland, soups start with bones, water, and herbs. In Japan, miso and soba are made with dashi (出汁), fermented and fresh plants, seaweed, and mushrooms. A bowl of warm broth does more for health than any YouTube warning list. It keeps fluid moving through the body, supports digestion, and brings minerals that soften the sharper vegetables.

So when I hear strict rules about what never to eat, I remind myself that a good soup supports a long life better than anxiety ever will.

07.b The Fifteen-Minute Interval Habits

More than twenty years ago, I wrote a short blog post on shaping habits in fifteen-minute intervals. Back then, I was aware of the Pomodoro technique. The idea was interesting, but it did not fit my philosophy. The rotary kitchen timer rang like an alarm. It broke concentration. It told me to get up and walk. It was a device designed to interrupt, not to deepen attention. It certainly did not feel like Zen (禅).

Years earlier, in 1996, while studying Buddhism (or bukkyō, 仏教) in Okinawa (沖縄), I had learned that Zen (禅) favors presence without force, attention that is steady rather than agitated, a practice that does not shout at you. I did not yet understand how to apply that to daily work, but the seed was planted.

Initially, the fifteenth minute was a quarter of the hour "bubble" in the time-tracking app I used. Even today, I time my TODO habits in "quarters".

This practice has stayed with me because it makes life manageable. Fifteen minutes is long enough to make real progress but short enough to begin without hesitation. It removes the weight of significant goals. It keeps the day from spiraling into worry about the future or regret about the past. Presence fits inside a quarter hour.

Only much later did I find a better companion for the fifteen-minute rhythm. It is a small, quiet hourglass that sits on my desk today. It measures fifteen minutes of sand, but more importantly, it measures my intention. It does not ring. It does not command. It simply flows. Sometimes I notice it. Sometimes I forget it completely, and it runs long past empty. That is the beauty of it. The hourglass never pulls me out of flow, or what Japanese thinkers might call mushin (無心), a mind not entangled. It is a witness, not a supervisor. A presence, not a device. 

When I flip it over, I begin with one thing. Reading, writing, studying, programming, sharpening my mental and physical tools. For fifteen minutes, I commit to staying inside that small frame. Nothing dramatic. No pressure to finish. The task simply receives full attention for that interval. If the sand runs out and I am still absorbed, I continue. If I feel scattered, I have it as a reminder. 

Returning to the hourglass restores clarity of mind and focus on the task. It becomes a physical expression of ichigyō zammai (一行三昧), the Japanese pattern of complete absorption in a single line, a single act. It also pairs naturally with the Stoic way of doing what is right in front of you, nothing more.

The fifteen-minute practice is still the most reliable way I know to build flow and steady habits. You turn the glass, begin, remain with the moment, and let the sand complete its journey. Then you choose again. Over time, these small intervals shape a life that feels grounded, attentive, and quietly productive.

Habits are shaped by practice, and practice is enforced by a system; this one stayed with me for 20 years.