The “grown-up” realization
For a while, the name Greta Thunberg seemed to be everywhere, particularly after her 2019 UN Climate Action Summit speech. I’m not here to debate the politics of her words, but I want to talk about my own internal reaction to her. When I heard her shouting “How dare you!” at the world leaders, I didn’t feel the surge of rebellious adrenaline I would have felt in my twenties. Instead, I felt something far more sobering: I realized I was on the side of the people being yelled at. And for the record, this realization didn’t hit me because I found a grey hair in my nostril—it was a far deeper, more existential shift.
For the first time, I looked at myself and realized I had truly become an “adult”—not just in years, but in responsibility. I am now part of the very system that young activists are trying to dismantle. It was a late realization, perhaps, but a profound one.
The human ecosystem: Fire vs. Friction
In our youth, we are designed to be defiant. We fantasize about burning down the old world order to build something better. If I had seen Greta when I was eighteen, I would have joined her battle cry without a second thought. But the human “ecosystem” requires different roles for different stages of life.
The role of youth is to demand change, to be the “fire” that pushes the boundaries. The role of adults, on the other hand, is to be the “friction”—the ones who are challenged, who take the criticism, and who must find the practical path forward. It’s never pleasant to be criticized, but being challenged by the next generation is a crucial duty of adulthood. Once we accept this role, we can stop reacting with anger and start having constructive discussions.
You might think it’s a raw deal to be the one taking the heat, but this is a cycle that has repeated throughout human history. Think of it as the time to pay off the “spiritual debt” you racked up during your own rebellious youth. Let’s just grit our teeth and play the part of the “cool adult” who can take a hit.
The nostalgia of psychological reactance

I suspect many adults reacted harshly to Greta because of “psychological reactance”—that stubborn impulse we all feel when someone tells us to do something we were just about to do anyway. It’s the same mechanical, meaningless exchange that happens in 99% of households worldwide: “Have you done your homework?” / “I was just about to do it!” This is a ritual as standard as “How are you?” / “I’m fine.” By recognizing that our anger is just a version of that childhood frustration, we might be able to turn our irritation into nostalgia.
For CondeHouse, environmental protection isn’t a trend; it’s our literal lifeblood because we are a part of the forest. We’ve planted trees, replaced petroleum heating with wood waste, and covered our roofs with solar panels for years. But our most radical environmental act is simply our business model: we make things that don’t need to be replaced.
Vivienne Westwood once famously said, “Buy less, choose well, make it last.” At CondeHouse, we’ve slightly revised that for the 21st century: “Buy less, choose us, and make it last.” Being an adult means making choices that the next generation won’t have to scream at us for.
If being an “adult” means paying off the debts of our youth, then the Hatsune Miku Art Chair is our way of settling the bill with style. It combines the vibrant energy of a digital icon with the “make it last” philosophy of master craftsmanship. It’s a piece of furniture built so that today’s young rebels can sit in it fifty years from now and realize that at least some adults were paying attention. Why buy disposable junk that fuels another “How dare you!” moment when you can invest in a masterpiece that stands the test of time?
Ready to act like a “cool adult” and choose well? Click the banner below to see the future of sustainable, iconic design.


Shungo Ijima
Global Connector | Reformed Bureaucrat | Professional Over-Thinker
After years of navigating the rigid hallways of Japan’s Ministry of Finance and surviving an MBA, he made a life-changing realization: spreadsheets are soulless, and wood has much better stories to tell.
Currently an Executive at CondeHouse, he travels the world decoding the “hidden DNA” of Japanese culture—though, in his travels, he’s becoming increasingly more skilled at decoding how to find the cheapest hotels than actual cultural mysteries.
He has a peculiar talent for finding deep philosophical meaning in things most people ignore as meaningless (and to be fair, they are often actually meaningless). He doesn’t just sell furniture; he’s on a mission to explain Japan to the world, one intellectually over-analyzed observation at a time. He writes for the curious, the skeptical, and anyone who suspects that a chair might actually be a manifesto in disguise.
Follow his journey as he bridges the gap between high-finance logic and the chaotic art of living!

