Accumulating Personal Assets

• めしと酒　みうら：安くて、フレンドリー
• beacon：先輩に教えてもらったお店、高いけど美味しい
• NOS：Sちゃん推薦、静かで話しやすかった
• なぎ食堂：桜丘郵便局そば、落ち着いた、おしゃれベジタリアン
• 桜丘カフェ：二件目にいい感じ
• とんちゃん：韓国料理で有名らしい、イケメン韓国人店員多し
  

• GOLDEN　BROWN：ハンバーガーのお店
• KIRAKIRA：ヘルシー定食のお店
  
• アンティロミィ：有田焼カレーのお店
• 源平：納会で使用、オーナーがとてもいい人だった
• 鳥小屋：もつ鍋の名店、しかも安め
• Huit：中目黒っぽいカフェダイニング、眺め良し
• Travel Cafe Bliss：旅行代理店＋カフェ、オーナーが楽しかった
  

• １LDK（http://www.idland.jp/1ldk/）：いい感じの服がたくさんあった。Gambertのネルシャツが欲しかったけど、腕のサイズが合わず、断念。。
• GENERAL RESEARCH：直営店があったのを初めて知った。将来的に、nonnativeとここの服を愛用したい。

• 吉祥寺どんぶり：豪快そうだった
• Societa
• カレーハウスチリチリ
• 汁べゑ：ずっと行けていない、とにかくいつ電話しても満席
  

• 『のひのひ』：東山方面、「野菜」バーらしい
• 『鰓呼吸』：突如出現した居酒屋、外装が派手
• 『ie』：夜中２時までやってるカフェらしい、卒論で使いたい
  
• 『rigoletto short hills』：CP抜群のバーらしい
• 『新潟０２５』：新潟出身の友達にも推薦したい
• 『雲居』：東山方面で、この間発見した隠れ家っぽいところ
• 『ボンシュマン』：祐天寺よりのフレンチ、ランチで訪れたい
  

• コース

• 共走するパートナー
  
• 会場アクセス
• 参加賞（今回は保冷バッグ）

卒業論文がいっこうに進む気配がないので、参考になればということで、ざっと目を通してみた。まあ伊丹先生が書いてなかったら、手にも取らなかっただろうけど。

https://bookweb.kinokuniya.co.jp/htm/4641076499_1.html

そもそも社会科学的な論文って何？ってところが、なんとなく理解できたような、気がする。
結局のところ、まだテーマの選定で行き詰っている僕にとっては、「もっとうろうろしろ！」ってことみたいで。。。「不思議な」テーマ、今月中に見つかるかな？

論文テーマを決めるまでのプロセス

1.分野レベルのテーマ設定からトピックレベルのテーマ設定まで、何段階かの絞込みが必要

2.各段階の絞込みにはすべて、類似の構造の「うろうろ」プロセスが不可欠、うろうろをきちんとする人が、後で報われる。

うろうろ効率化の原理

入り口は狭く、しかし奥行きは深く（より深い本質的（＝社会的に重要性の高い、理論的に基本的な問題に絡んでいる）問題につながっている、という感覚）

思考実験をスピーディーに

不動点を意識する

「良い」テーマの要件

不思議なこと、せめて、面白いこと

テーマの内容を、短い、簡潔な表現で言えること

凝縮した表現

多くの人による理解

少しの無理をするようなもの=能力蓄積

長持ちする、奥行きが深い

論文の価値は、仮説が意味深いか、面白いか、さらには証拠が説得的か、で決まる。

仮説を「育てる」

1.現実をしっかりと見る能力、不思議を発見する仮説発見型

現実は論理的

人はイメージなしにものを考えることはできない

2.関連分野の理論をきちんと勉強する努力、仮説検証型

思考実験（論理・データ・厚い記述）→萌芽→現実観察・まとめ

→仮説候補の構築、原因の論理的推論→仮説を論証可能な証拠を探す

（注意）

1.材料は満遍なく

2.適切な言葉を見つける

3.思考を本筋から離れないようにする

論理を証拠として用いる

現実的妥当性のある前提か

追加的な仮定や前提を置かざるを得ないときは、それを明示的にして、可能性としてのその説明論理を、証拠として提出する

仮説の正しさを証明する方法

観察結果法

演繹論理法

論理重合体合成法

論拠の提出と、なぜ自分がその仮説を大切と考えたかの発想のきっかけを説明することは異なる

論文の「幹」とは、書き手が、自分の主張したい仮説群を効果的かつ順序良く述べ、さらにはそれらの仮説の証拠を説得的に提示していくために、決めるものである。幹は一本に決めて、それを簡潔な表現で表す。

文章展開

階層構造を明瞭に意識する

ある階層での、レベル合わせができているか

'HOPE'

In many cultures, people believe that when you take someone's picture you take away their souls. As a photojournalist, I am aware of that. From my early photography career I was also concerned about the dignity of the individuals that I photographed. It was, and always will be, important for me that I did not take away someone's dignity in my pictures. In 1979, while covering the plight of the boat people who were fleeing Vietnam, I decided not to take a picture of a young girl who was washed ashore and had been tortured and raped by the Thai pirates in the ocean a few days earlier. I found a home for her. That was more important than photographing her. At the time, I was criticized by most of my colleagues and peers that I will never make a good photojournalist. I am probably not a noteworthy photojournalist, but I have always believed that I am a human being first and only after that, a photojournalist.

In 1984, while I was in the Wollo province of Ethiopia covering the draught, a mother ran towards me with her baby wrapped in cloth and begged me to hold her child in my hands. She asked me if I would do that and save her from the disgrace of having to have her last child die in her hands. I did so, and later―after the child had died―the mother left me with her dead child to take care of the burial.

I once saw a woman on the pavement outside a hospital in Ethiopia. Her clothing had come off and she had just delivered a baby―the umbilical chord was still attached. Ethiopian women are very modest people and they do not even show their legs. My reaction was to cover the woman, and so I did. Just then a TV crew, who had seen this sight and had gone to their jeep to get their gear to photograph this woman, arrived and saw that her clothes were on her and they demanded to know if I had done that. I said "Yes." The cameraman demanded that I take her clothes off the way they were before so they could film her. I wouldn't do it and he almost punched me. Luckily, the driver who had brought me there came to my rescue.

My 20 years of photojournalism for the United Nations took me to several countries to cover wars and refugee problems. In 1994, after my coverage of Sarajevo, I was asked to go to Rwanda. I visited a camp for "unaccompanied children" in Goma, Zaire. They had fled their homes in Rwanda and had taken temporary asylum across the border in Zaire. I met a young orphan boy named "Innocent." He explained in detail how he had lost both his parents who were killed by machetes. He also kept reminding me that I looked so much like his father. When I was leaving the camp he came closer to me and said, "If you ever come back to this part of the world, please come and visit me." I was fighting my tears, and we barely left the camp when we saw a pile of dead bodies by the roadside. A truck approached and two men got out to use shovels to throw the bodies into the back of the truck. I knelt down and made two pictures. I said a little prayer and put away my camera. The last body they threw in the truck was a strong man's body. He was partially clothed. What bothered me most was the way these dead bodies were treated. With no importance, as a matter of fact, they were removed like dust. Later that same day I witnessed a TV crew that was so excited about the coverage they were getting. I heard the cameraman yell to his producer of the "great, incredible, fantastic" shot that he had lined up. I ran to see what he had in his viewfinder: the camera was set up in a low angle and was trained on a row of bodies on the roadside.

My trip back to the U.S. was very painful with such remembrances of the various things I had witnessed. I had seen similar sights and incidences earlier in my career, but somehow this time it weighed heavily on me and I had a feeling that I would not able to shrug this one off and get back to my routine. Sure enough, almost a week later, I was in my New York office one morning and I just could not function. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I could hardly hold myself together. I had a nervous breakdown and was given leave from my job for almost three months while I recovered. It took seeing the incredible beauty of a butterfly that was sitting on a sunflower in my neighbor's backyard to finally bring me back to photography and the camera that I had packed away for three months.