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はてなキーワード: airとは
機種はもう覚えてないが、iPhoneが登場した初期からiPhoneを信仰している。今使ってるのは14Plus。バッテリーの持ちが凄くて気に入ってる。
電子書籍や動画を見る用。Proを買ったこともあるけど必要ないので今はAir使ってる。
だいたい20万くらいのやつを使ってた。当時はゲームとかやってたから必要だったが、今は持ってない。
なんとなく買ったけど、タッチパネル要素は全く使ってないので、次に買う時はラップトップでいいかなという気分。
ロードバイク 3台
一時期ハマってた。あの頃は体力あったな。
バイク 4台
125ccからリッターのスーチャー付きまで幅広く乗った。今は休眠中。
気軽な足車が欲しくて買った。特筆して何がいいってわけじゃないけど、気に入ってた。
中古。400万弱だったかな。オープンカーが乗りたくて買った。6年くらい乗ったかな。MTだったのでわりと楽しめた。
BMW 2台
最初に買ったのは6気筒のヤンチャな車だったけど、今乗ってるのは4気筒のクーペ。趣味性と実用性を両立するいい車だと思う。
田舎の家 1軒
1200万くらいだったかな。片田舎の一軒家。3年くらい住んだけど、田舎というより片田舎だったので飽きて手放した。
中古。2200万くらい。地方都市に直通してる駅から歩いて10分くらい。駅の近くはやや治安が悪いけど、内装は全てリフォーム済みなので住み心地はわりといい。
諸々200万くらい？マンション買う時に大手家具屋で1から揃えた。
これも200万くらいかかった気がする。大型テレビはテレビ見ないので一瞬後悔したけど、アマプラやYouTubeで地味に活躍してる。
これだけ使ってもまだ欲しい車とかあるし、人間の欲には限りがないなとつくづく思う。お前らの消費記録もよければ聞かせてくれ。
10以上年上の彼氏からクリスマスにMacBook Airをプレゼントしてもらった。
私は学生で、彼は社会人。お互い独身。彼は典型的なApple信者だ。
今そのプレゼントのことで揉めている。私は素直に喜べず、結局プレゼントを返してしまった。
今まで、Windowsメインな私に使って欲しいと、喜んでくれると思ってプレゼントして
くれたんだろうと感謝している。
最初は、少しひっかかっりながらも喜んで「ありがとう」と応えた。
けれど、時間が経つにつれて、ひっかかりがもやもやと広がってパッケージを開ける手を止めた。
これをもらったらダメなんじゃないか？自分でバイトするなり努力して買いたかったんじゃないの？
こういう高価な実用品まで買ってもらったら、援助交際と同じじゃないか？
ただでさえ歳が離れてるのもあって、不倫と勘違いされがちだった。そう見られないよう気をつけていた。
こういうもやもやを理由として説明し、食事もご馳走してもらってるし特別にプレゼントは要らない、
そりゃあ彼は傷つくよね。でもなんだか私もプライド傷つけられた気がする。
以前からことあるごとに「Appleの製品ならなんでも買ってあげるよ〜。Air買ってあげようか？」と言っていた。
その度に丁重に断ってきた。大した負担ではないのかもしれないが、そこに彼の私に対する支配心が見えたんだよね。
彼は中年になるまで女の子と付き合ったことがなく、私が初めての彼女。私は恋愛経験豊富な方。
気負ってる部分もあるんだと思う。
返してから、ちょっと口論があって、結果彼は怒ってしまって連絡取れなくなった。
怒ったり、機嫌を損ねると殻に閉じこもってしまう。
私は、どうするべきだったのか。ゴチャゴチャ面倒な理屈つけず、無邪気にわーいと喜ぶべきだったか。
彼の機嫌が直すには、今どうすべきなのか。
クレカやQRコード決済、パスモなどのプリペイド型カード決済、d払いなどのスマホキャリア決済で扱われた売上は、一律「売掛金」として処理される。
売掛金は、所謂「ツケ払い」や、今問題になっているホストクラブの「掛け」と性質は同じ。期日が来たら自動的に入金されるか、客が金持って来てまとめて支払うかの違いでしかない。
ホストクラブの売掛金規制が難しい理由がここにある。風営法を改正して売掛を禁止すれば良いように一見思えるが、そうすると上述のキャッシュレス決済全部禁止にし、いつもニコニコ現金払いにする必要が出てくるからだ。
今のご時世、普通にホストクラブもキャバクラもキャッシュレス決済に対応してる。手数料は割高だし使う客は少ないがクレカが使えるし、Airペイのように明確にホスクラ、キャバをターゲットにした決済サービスもある。そんな状況でキャッシュレス決済禁止なんて規制をやったら差別だ違憲だとかで訴えられるのが確実だ。
キャッシュレス決済の浸透が、ホストクラブ規制を困難なものにしていることは理解しておくと良いだろう。「今どき現金なんてほとんど持たないよ( ｰ`дｰ´)ｷﾘｯ」という人達が、ホスクラ売掛問題の片棒を担いでると言えなくもないのだ。
こう、なんていうか、M3無印 Pro買ったけどM2 Air買わなくて良かったあ～的なレビューとか、実際購入して所持した方の感想なんかをね。
心に持っておきたいのですよ。少なくない出費をすることになるのでな。
分かるのよ。そうなのよ。
この比較の表をしらみつぶしにマジマジ見続けて早数日なのよ。
そこに価値を見いだしますかって本当おっしゃるとおりの話なのよ。
先週発表されたM3 Macbook Proシリーズの14インチM3無印ですよ。
買うべきだと絶賛するレビューばっかりで参考にならねえんだよ。
いねえならって俺が手を挙げることもできねえんだけどさ。
M3 MacBook Pro（無印14インチ）って、
M2 MacBook Air（無印13インチ）より5万円くらい高いのよ。
レビューや計測みてると大して性能差がなさそうな感じなのに。
SDXCスロットとHDMIとCPUファンとバッテリーのために5万払いますかって感じよ（M3無印外部ディスプレイ1つまでだし）。
そうじゃなくて無印よ。
軽いよ？
誰か教えてよ、M2 Airと比べてM3無印 Proを買う良さをよ。
※購入者レビューじゃないけど、これこれ、こういうの https://japan.cnet.com/article/35211238/
1993? 定時制高校の友人と聖剣伝説(おそらく2)を10時間以上プレイする
200? 定時制高校の友人からKanonやAIRを勧められ京アニを知る
2009 涼宮ハルヒの憂鬱を初視聴、感銘を受けて原作全巻を2日で読破し小説執筆を開始する
2013? 刑務所でけいおん！を視聴、有名人の結婚報道などを見るうちに女性監督と結婚させたがっていると思うようになる
201? 2ch上で披露した小説の草案かなにかに「すごいものをみた」とレスが付きプロ編集者からお墨付きを得たと妄想を抱く
201? 2ch上で「本人乙」とレスしてスルーされたため、京アニの女性監督と交流をしていると妄想を抱くようになる
2016 京アニ大賞に「仲野智美の事件簿」「リアリスティックウェポン」を応募し落選
2018 ツルネを視聴し小説のネタ帳に書いただけのシーンが盗まれて使われていると妄想を抱くようになる
2019 放火事件
便乗して
NHKアニメの皮を被ったSF者アニメ。ガイナックスが孫請けにはいった。当時庵野さん30歳。マジで？
同人グループから出生したclampが、ついに一般に名を轟かせた作品。そういえばまだ当時は百合なんて言葉はなかったな。
これを履修してないと言ったら、先輩オタクから全館貸し出されてすっころんだ。リナは永遠の悪友。
実はエヴァンゲリオンに対するアンサーという面もあるかなと。ボクはるりるりになりたくてコンピュータサイエンスに進みました。
エロゲー原作のアニメの金字塔。この成功から多数の企画が生まれて、2002年から爆発的に増え、AIR,Kannonで京都アニメーション、true tears でP.A.Worksが出てくる。
日常系アニメの近年に繋がる流れを作った始祖。今見ても面白いし、見る度に発見がある。
いわゆる居候者の定番で裏と表の中間ぐらいに存在する。けどギリ裏かなと。
表がハルヒなら、裏はこちら。超ポジティブに、美少女に擬人化してオタクを描いたのはかなり大きかったのでは。父子家庭なのに悲壮感がないとか、ひたすら明るくてたのしい。ちょうどリーマンショックで○たくなってた人たちの命を救ったと思う。
以下言い訳。
In a discussion about the case, someone raised an objection to "someone who was not a party to the incident, who was not from Nagasaki, and who was not from Hiroshima, complaining about it. Seeing that opinion made me aware of my position, so I will say what I must say.
I was born in Nagasaki and am a third-generation A-bomb survivor.
I say this because I grew up hearing the stories of the A-bomb damage directly from those who suffered from the atomic bombings.
I feel that it is unacceptable for someone like me to speak about the A-bomb damage.
However, there are few A-bomb survivors left, so I will speak up.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. We were made to sit in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, where there was not even an air conditioner or a fan, and for nearly an hour we were made to listen to stories about the atomic bombing. It was hard for me anyway.
I think it was even more painful for the elderly people who told the stories. But I don't think an elementary school kid could have imagined that. I, too, have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most.
Another thing is that at this time of year, pictures of the victims of the atomic bombing are pasted up in the hallways.
In other parts of the country, these are grotesque images that would cause a fuss from the parents who are always nagging about them.
Recently, even the A-bomb museum has become more gentle in its exhibits, and most of the radical and horrifying exhibits that would have traumatized visitors have been removed.
I don't know how elementary schools now teach about the A-bomb damage. But when I was in elementary school, there were photos on display.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face as an elementary school student. It was a picture of Taniguchi Sumiteru(谷口稜曄). If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would still like you to see it.
I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was displayed, so I always took the long way around to another floor to avoid seeing the photo.
My grandfather was under the bomb and went to the burnt ruins of the bomb to look for his sister. I can understand now that he couldn't turn away or go another way.
There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning in the ruins of the burnt ruins. There would have been many more who would have died out in agony.
My grandfather walked for miles and miles, towing a rear wheelchair, through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister.
My grandfather was not a child then. But of course there were elementary school children who did the same thing he did. I am not speculating that there were. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it.
A young brother and sister found their father's corpse in the ruins of the fire and burned it themselves. They didn't have enough wood to burn him alive, and when they saw his brain spilling out, they ran away, and that was the last time they ever saw him again.
I can never forget that story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it's painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I'm crying.
I keep wondering how that old man who ran away from his father's brain was able to expose to the public the unimaginably horrible trauma, the scar that will never heal, even after all these years.
Now I think I understand a little.
Why I can't help but talk about my grandfather and the old man now, even as I remember my own trauma.
Because this level of suffering is nothing compared to their words being forgotten.
It's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that once existed that will be forgotten, like my hands shaking, my heart palpitating, my nose running with vertigo, and so on.
My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire.
In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire.
My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell.
I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles on the ground in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it.
Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, unimaginable suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.
Memories fade inexorably with each passing human mouth. The memories that those people could never allow to be forgotten are almost forgotten.
The tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted.
Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire without being able to tell anyone about it.
Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are still in their graves.
Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words.
But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing.
I know how it feels to think that I am the only one. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. I know that I have closed my mouth because I thought I shouldn't talk about it, and that is the result.
Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for fun.
I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.
すまん。勝手に翻訳した。拡散はどうするかな。redditとかに投稿するのがいいのか?
----
I have seen some posts asking if they should talk about "the case" even though they were not involved in it and were not born in Nagasaki or Hiroshima, and I am a bit aware of it, so I have to say what I have to say. I say this because I was born in Nagasaki, am a third generation atomic bomb survivor, and grew up hearing the stories of those who experienced the atomic bombing firsthand. I know it's a little bit too much for me, but I'm going to say this because there are very few survivors left.
In Nagasaki, children grow up hearing stories about the atomic bombing. They were stuffed into sushi for nearly an hour in the gymnasium of an elementary school in the middle of summer, with no air conditioner or fan, and told stories about the atomic bombing. That was a hard time for me. I think it must have been even harder for the old people who told the stories, but there was no way an elementary school kid could imagine such a thing, and I had forgotten most of the stories I had been told for a long time. I have forgotten most of the stories I was told. I can only remember one or two at most. There is one more hard thing. Every year around this time, a row of grotesque images that would drive the PTA crazy in other areas are prominently displayed in the hallways. These days, I hear that the atomic bomb museum has been bleached out and many of the radical and horrifying exhibits that traumatized visitors have been taken down. I don't know if they are still there, but they were there when I was in elementary school.
There was one photo that I just couldn't face when I was in elementary school. It is a picture of Sumiteru Taniguchi. If you search for it, you can find it. It is a shocking picture, but I would like you to take a look at it. I couldn't pass through the hallway where the photo was posted, so I always took the long way around to another floor of the school building to avoid seeing the photo.
Now I'm thinking that my grandfather, who headed into the burnt ruins to look for his sister, couldn't have turned away or taken a different path. There would have been a mountain of people still alive and moaning, not just pictures, and a mountain more who would have given up at the end of their suffering. He walked for miles and miles, towing his handcart through the narrow streets of rubble-strewn Nagasaki in search of his sister. My grandfather was not a child at the time, but of course there were children who did similar things. Not that there wouldn't have been. There were. I heard the story from him, and I still remember it. A young brother and sister found their father's body in the ruins of a fire and they burned it. They didn't have enough wood to burn his body, and when they saw the raw brain that spilled out, they ran away and that was the last time they ever saw him anymore.
I can never forget the story I heard when I was a kid, and even now it is painful and painful, my hands are shaking and I am crying. I keep wondering how the old man who escaped from that father's brain could have been able to unravel the most horrible trauma imaginable and expose it to the public with scars that will never heal.
Now I think I can understand a little.
The reason I can't help but talk about my grandfather and that old man, even if I have to rehash my own trauma, is that this level of suffering is nothing compared to the fact that their words will be forgotten. My hands shaking, my heart palpitating and dizzy, my nose running with tears, it's nothing compared to the tremendous suffering that was once there and will be forgotten.
My grandfather, who went through an unimaginable hell, lived to see his grandchildren born, and met his sister's death in the ruins of the fire. In other words, my grandfather was one of the happiest people in the ruins of the fire. My grandfather and that old man were, after all, just people wading in the depths of hell. I think that the suffering that even people who had experienced unimaginable pain could not imagine was lying like pebbles in Nagasaki 78 years ago, and no one paid any attention to it. Their suffering, which I can't even imagine, is nothing compared to the countless, tremendous suffering they witnessed, which they pretend never happened.
Memories fade inexorably every time people talk about them. The memories that those people could not allow to be forgotten are now largely forgotten; the tremendous suffering of 78 years ago is mostly gone, never to be recounted again. Those who suffered the most from the atomic bombing died rotting in the ruins of the fire, unable to tell anyone about it. Many of those who saw it with their own eyes kept their mouths shut and took it with them to their graves. Most of those who spoke a few words are now under the grave.
Compared to the words of the old men, my own words are so light. I would rather keep my mouth shut than speak in such light words. But still, someone has to take over. I realize that even my words, which are so light, are only the top of the voices that are left in this world to carry on the story of the atomic bombing. I know how it feels to wonder if someone like myself is allowed to speak about this. Still, I hope that you will not shut your mouth. This is the result of our silence.
Sometimes I almost choose to stop imagining the unimaginable suffering and live my life consuming other people's suffering for the fun of it. I am writing this while I still have some imagination of the suffering of the old people whose voices, faces, and even words I can no longer recall.
Translator's note: The original post in Japanese is a response to a post by a Japanese contributor who wondered if he was qualified to speak out on the subject of the A-bomb when he was not from Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but still spoke out about Barbie and the A-bomb. I translated it here because I think it deserves to be read by the world.
