black and white and food downstairs

Yep, that's right, a new bloggety design.

It was past time cause that green was even beginning to annoy me.

And I happen to be a big fan of green.

In the Great Change of '09 I lost a few widgets and gadgets that I am currently trying to track down and get back, but other than that, I am pleased with this new design of black and white (and read all over. Get it? It's a blog, so you read it, like that old joke about the newspaper,What's black and white and read all over? only you say it instead of read it, so you think they're referring to a color rather than an act. That's the clever part. Oh, am I getting way too in depth for this tired old joke? Sorry).

But as to the missing widgets and gadgets, I've asked some of the best internet people I know about those. A brother and a friend. Oh, but they are two different people. I guess one is my brother and my friend, but the other is not my brother cause she's a girl and a Hornbuckle, so not my brother, see? But a friend.

Anyway.

After only sleeping a measly five hours or so on Tuesday night, I made up for it smashingly by sleeping fourteen hours last night.

It's a good thing that I finally woke up or else people might have wondered if I had gone and met my Maker.

Ah, people being Drew and the cats, considering they are the only ones around this morning. But still.

Although it wouldn't have been the first time to have met him, my Maker, that is; I've met him already, and honestly, I am in no rush to leave this earth. Not because he isn't awesome or anything like that, though. Maybe it's all the green, cause I do love green as I said before, and there happens to be a ton of green things here.

And maybe it's the people too.

Okay, definitely it's the people.

People like my mom, who make sure that my kitchen looks like this,

stocked with all sorts of delicious and American food, so that I don't have to go to bed hungry.

You know, they don't have pretzels in Japan.

Okay, they sort of do, but they aren't the same. And the same goes for Ritz crackers, too, if you were wondering.

And I was craving some pretzels like crazy. For a month. And now they are downstairs in our kitchen, just a stairs descent away, and this makes me feel so happy.

It's amazing how much comfort a well-stocked kitchen can provide.

time

It's funny how time works. The way it just keeps going, moving along whether you want it to or not. I am actually pretty fascinated by it...I think back to when I started this job and it feels like a life time ago.

Walking into that big studio in Times Square.

Feeling like it was the first day of school, only my mom wasn't right next to me this time.

And yet at the same time, it is almost unfathomable that two birthdays have passed since I started this job.

Time works that way, doesn't it? Infinite, yet fleeting. Encompassing but can't come fast enough.

What brought this to mind is a picture I found the other night. Sometimes I like to go through my photos when I can't sleep or when I am missing home.

And one stood out to me.

I remember it perfectly, like it was yesterday.

Drew and I were walking on the pier in Chicago, clouds were billowed high over us, and we came upon a sign. It had arrows pointing different directions and the amount of miles to whatever big city was that way.

And yeah, Tokyo stood out.

Cause it was this place that I was going, but it still didn't seem real. At that moment, with Drew in Chicago, it was as real as the children we would have someday, the end of this tour, or even Christmas when it's only June.

It was the not yet.

And all of the moments that had to transpire until I left for Tokyo were daunting; all of the shows to do stateside, the meals to eat, nights to sleep through, weeks home to spend...But somehow all of those moments pile up and eventually tip the scale, making the line between the future and the present blur and suddenly what you thought was just a speck in the distance is staring you right in the face.

And you are saying good-bye and trying to be brave and wondering how that lump in your throat never seems to go down, not even with age, not even with it being the thirtieth time you're having to leave.

And now my trip to Japan has happened. Just like that. And yes, it was amazing...I actually think the question How is Japan? is a little hilarious. I mean, there is just so much to it. Do I mention the smells, how the air in even the 7-11 hangs heavy with the odor of fish? How I awake to purplish grey mountains outside my window? How people are crying in the audience every show; how they video us leaving the stage door and seem honored to shake our hands? How I got to play my music here in Tokyo and one of the emails I received afterward mentioned that my music was very friendly, among other things? Do I talk about the noodles, noodles, and more noodles? How the monkey wrapped himself around my leg, like I was a freaking tree? How I am now used to not being able to read one single thing in the subway? How I am physically in Japan, on the other side of the world, but well, there's this whole part of me, my imagination, I guess, that's back in America, that's in a small house with a man and two cats?

Or do I just smile and say Japan is amazing?

Cause it is.

And it's also a lot.

And how strange that here I was back in April, standing in Chicago while pointing towards Tokyo, a place I had never before been,

and now I have worked here for a month.

And now I get to go back home. And time is behind all of it.

Well, time and God, I suppose.

And guess what?

I never did figure out how to get to this theater here in Hyogo on my own.

And I am really okay with that.

fun with sticks

I remember once my sister-in-law remarked upon how funny it was that her kids had accumulated so many toys over the years.

Because really, Rebekah said, they end up playing with a string more than anything else.

A string.

And who knows where it had even come from. Certainly not Toys R Us.

Apparently, her kids had been into playing doggie and used that string as the leash. Sounds like fun to me. But my point is, put a little creativity into the mix, and voila! you end up having a good time.

Take the other night, for example.

And since I've been in Japan for the last month, I use the term the other night very loosely.

Drew and I were at my brother and sister-in-law's house and, in what is becoming something of a tradition for us, Drew brought out the stick.

A stick that you simply attach to your chin, while standing in a clear space. We even put some pillows in the corners to try to minimize any potential damage to people or furniture.
At first, it doesn't seem all that interesting. At least not for the spectators.
You are simply spinning with this stick on your chin, looking up at the ceiling, counting to 30 rotations.

But then once those 30 turns have been completed, the fun begins.

The object is to throw the stick on the ground and simply jump over it.

Shouldn't be too hard, right?

Wrong.

Maybe the hardest thing you'll ever do. And 9 out of 10 people don't end up accomplishing it.

But they sure do end up like this.
The next rainy day, you should try it.

If you've exhausted your game of doggie, that is. Or lost your string, whichever comes first.

And tonight, we had a big closing party, since we finish out our Japan leg of the tour tomorrow. Part of it was in honor of our dear Production Stage Manager, Ray, who is leaving us after Japan in order to go do Dream Girls.

A moment of silence please, because this makes me very very sad.

But another part of it was to honor us, which was so very kind.

They gave each one of us an authentic Japanese traveling bag with our names embroidered on it. They even had Japanese characters underneath our American names, which is just so special.
They tried to pick out a pattern according to each of our characters in the show, and I gotta say I think they got it spot on with these polka dots.

Oh, and the meaning of the three Japanese words for my name?

Ground. Design. Deer.

Love all three; I think it suits me just fine.

Much better than my friend Amos' whose name means:

Love. Burning love. Vinegar.

Ha! Vinegar!!!

Can hardly believe that my time here is coming to a close...OR THAT MY FIRST SHOW TOMORROW IS AT 11 am!!!!

What?

Yes, 11am. Ouch. That is eeeaaaarrrrllllyyy.

Better get to bed...

osaka

The Tempozan Harbor Village Ferris Wheel.

It may or may not be the world's largest ferris wheel.

But it is definitely in Osaka.

See, before you buy a ticket there is a sign espousing that it is the world's largest.

But then after you've bought the ticket, and upon entry, another sign says it is one of the world's largest.

Whatever, it's big. And I can see it from my hotel window all the way out here in Amagasaki.

It also forecasts the weather; the night before, depending upon the color that the ferris wheel is, you know whether or not the coming day will dawn clear or not.

Pretty cool, huh? Who needs the weather channel anyway?

And tonight Liza and I visited the Osaka Aquarium Kaiyukan.
And yes, I totally had to google that to remember it's name.

And here's what I learned: an aquarium is an aquarium is an aquarium.

Don't get me wrong, I really enjoyed it. I love animals, and always appreciate getting to see them. But, aside from the Japanese announcements as well as all the Japanese signs, I wouldn't have known it from any one of our aquariums in the states.

At one point, however, one of the staff members walked through, blaring out announcements over a loudspeaker. Both Liza and I desperately hoped that she wasn't announcing a break-out from the shark tank or that the building was suddenly on fire because, well, we couldn't understand a word she was saying.

We simply continued to stroll on by in blind faith that the announcement was not pertinent to us. Blissful ignorance at it's best, folks.

I will say that the sea otters were just adorable.
You can just make out his little head, with me getting as close to him as the glass would allow. But not getting to touch the fuzzy little dude was sad.

See, I am a very tactile person. It's how I learn and, for the most part, understand the world. Whenever I am learning something new, I have to physically do it myself. It won't work if you just try to tell me what to do; it goes in one ear and out the other.

Which is why I am so bad at listening to directions. But you guys already know about that.

Anyway, it's hard for me to see something I really love and not touch it, if that makes sense. While shopping, I find myself touching most things that are yellow. I have to hug and pet my parents' dogs. I am driven to squeeze my cats. In love, of course.

Anyway, the hard thing about an aquarium is that you just can't pet the animals. And if I were to have some sort of allowance to pet one animal in the aquarium, it would totally be the sea otters.

I just don't know how to go about getting that allowance...If anyone knows, I am all ears.

And I love some of the English translations I happen by. This one was from Osaka today. A hair salon...Er, actually...

...a hair make.

Yep, that's about right.

And I can only imagine the crazy things I would end up saying if I ever took it upon myself to try to master the complex and beautiful Japanese language; I am sure I'd say a lot funnier things than hair make.

Or good ruck!

Which is what the policeman yelled to us after explaining how to get to the Hanshin subway line to us.

And as it turns out, we did have good ruck.

Cause we found our way home in a jiff.

a day in the life of

Since I moved to this new city that is somewhere in the prefecture that is called Hyogo (and I would totally be more specific if I remembered the actual name of the city), I now have an hour commute to the theater.

And this commute is riddled with tickets--a pink one and a blue one, to be precise, that I cannot lose because without them I can neither enter nor leave the subway station. I was handed exactly 10 pink tickets and 10 blue tickets upon checking into my hotel on Monday and must make sure to have them on hand for our daily commute.

As if that weren't enough, I also have to change trains twice and pray that I get the express train rather than the local, though to be honest I don't think I would recognize one over the other before I was on it and was either stopping at every hole in the wall I passed or was seeing Hyogo in a blur as I zipped by.

Now imagine me.

Directionally challenged.

Not good at keeping small papers.

Or larger papers, for that matter, like marriage licenses.

Don't speak Japanese, so good luck at retaining the names of the stations at which I need to get off.

Or pronouncing them.

And 5'8, too.

Since you're imagining me, I thought it might be easier if you knew my height too.

I know, I think of everything and you're welcome.

But suffice it to say, I am desperate to make sure that I accompany others to the theater. Otherwise, I am pretty sure I might just end up in Tibet.

And I'd still be in the same situation: unable to speak the language, juggling many pastel tickets, confused, and of course, 5'8.

So think of me fondly as you wake up and, with contentment, realize that you know just exactly how to get to where you are going today.

Must be nice.

one heck of a stage name

Another opening night.

This time in Hyogo.

But by this time, after over 500 performances, we all pretty much know the drill.

Not much changes. Ever.

Oh, except today.

Except my name.

It seems that I have a new stage name here in Japan; one of the local Japanese crew members unwittingly bequeathed it to me, and this one just might stick.

The cast was that thrilled by it.

Anyway, I was wandering into the theater, getting ready for sound check, and I hear, Jessica! You gotta come see this, quick!

I go to where Sterling has motioned me--the board with all of our dressing room assignments on it for the week--and sure enough, this is what all the hubbub is about.
And just like that, I am Jessica Ratshaw.

Only here in Japan would that "L" get mistaken for an "R," changing my name entirely.

This is just too good.

hey, hey we're the monkeys!

The magic of today is hard to even express, really.

But I am going to try, and luckily I have some pictures to aid in the process.

When you hear Monkey Mountain, you have a pretty good idea of what to expect. Namely, a mountain on which there are many many monkeys.

But actually going there? Seeing it? Playing with the monkeys? Feeding them?

Just amazing.

Thrilling.

Transcendent.

We knew we were on the right trail when we came upon this sign,

and I was sure hoping that the monkey with the boxing gloves was hyperbole.

Cause...yikes.

And then we crested the mountain and saw them.
Chilling.
With intelligence in their eyes and fingers that are uncannily human.
Once we were actually with the monkeys, we saw one more rule that we hadn't seen before at the bottom of this sign.
The problem was that since we didn't know exactly what putting a load on outside entailed, it was hard for us to make sure that we weren't doing it. But that didn't stop us from pointing out that we were pretty sure one or the other of us was putting a load on and the person in question had better stop before that monkey put on his boxing gloves and made us all cry uncle.

And the babies, well they pretty much stole my heart.
Especially when one chirped, ran towards me, and wrapped his velvet little self around my ankle and started climbing up my leg.
I am not gonna lie and say that I wasn't somewhat terrified when his mother came towards me and wondered fleetingly if letting a baby monkey wrap his silky arms around your ankle was in fact putting a load on. She got closer and closer and I just froze. We all felt relieved when she simply grabbed her errant baby from my leg and went on her way.

Phew.

And here are some short clips I took of the monkeys...babies playing together, their feeding time outside with us, and when we got to feed them from inside this cage (for our own protection).

If you care to see these adorable little buddies in action, take a look.

And really, my time with the monkeys may have just trumped all that I've done so far in Japan.

karaoke and typhooning

It's true.

What they say about musical theater people and karaoke.

Um, we love it. Can't get enough of it.

And the feel of that microphone gripped between your fingers?

Amazing.

And all that swanky reverb that makes those high notes seem just effortless?

Divine.

Seriously, three of us stepped into the place because you know, we're in Japan and all and still hadn't been to one. We purchased an hour session, which I thought was maybe pushing it, but then...well, then there was the feel of the microphone and the cheesy soundtracks and any old pop song I wanted to sing and all that marshmallowy reverb and the hour went by in what seemed like just a fantastically fun second or two.

And there was something like a perfect moment when, right as we were ending a rousing rendition of Doe a Deer, singing in octaves the last two D0 D0's, there was a third unintentional but gloriously in rhythm beat, a crash! and shatter! as a glass smashed onto the ground.

Sending us into gales of laughter.

And though I am sure the Karaoke bar did not think it was a perfect moment, considering how it left them down a glass and all, the fact that that crazy-good drummer from the Dave Matthews Band himself could not have hit a more perfectly timed crash than the sound of that breaking glass was just too good.

But really, I am not promoting the harm or violence toward any innocent glasses, especially ones that do not actually belong to you.

So keep your glasses safe.

But if one does happen to slip from your grip while singing at a karaoke bar--if you can time it so it crashes right as a surprising button to the song, well then, that's the way I'd recommend it.

Oh. And another thing I'd recommend?

How about while flying your passengers through a typhoon, not showing footage of the havoc that typhoon is wreaking in the same area over which they are flying, for goodness' sake?!

Seriously. We were taking off in the storm and every monitor in the plane was giving us views of trees blowing sideways, rain angrily beating down diagonally, and clouds piling up in the sky.

Um, thanks.

We kind of knew about the not great flying conditions already since our flight was delayed. Twice. And if we still hadn't gotten it by then, we could have just, I don't know, looked out the window. But I guess you just needed to leave no uncertainty in our minds as to how hard our flight could be and so you showed us the typhoon.

On TV.

Pounding the earth.

Ripping the sky in half.

And giving us the ride of our lives.

Nice touch, Japanese Airline, very nice touch indeed.

leaving Tokyo and eating sandwiches

I was supposed to be on the bus right now, en route to a plane that would fly me and the rest of the cast to Hyogo.

And no, I didn't oversleep.

There's this small problem of a typhoon here, causing some delays in our travel plans, so I am sitting tight in my hotel room for another hour. And honestly, I don't mind. Just gives me a little more time to myself this morning and that is something I treasure.

It also gives me more time to finagle plastic bags over my guitar so that it stays dry in this typhoon. I do have a case, but it's a soft case and not waterproof...so yeah.

It also gave me a little bit more time to go get one more sandwich from the best sandwich shop on earth. That's right. I don't know how they do it, really, but I have never tasted something so divine in sandwich form. The owner is an Aussie and can you imagine just moving from your home and even your country to go open up a little sandwich shop on a winding side street in Tokyo?

I think it's easy to get in a rut in terms of how life will go or should go, for that matter. But really, we have freedom. There is possibility. Who says you can't just try something new and have it be a roaring success?

And who says exactly what success looks like?

Is it tons of money piled up in a vault so that you can go swim through it, a la Scrooge MckDuck?

I don't think so; there are lots of people with lots of money who are not happy. Who are owned by it. Who jump out windows when the stock market crashes because, apparently, that's all they had to live for.

Is it the career that you've always wanted?

That could be part of it, but I don't think it's the whole kit and caboodle. Why else would a young man, Jason Raize, star as Simba in The Lion King on Broadway and then tragically end his own life? That makes me think that a dream job is not enough.

Maybe it has a lot more to do with love.

With people.

With God.

Maybe it's doing good honest work, whether it's music or organizing or driving or whatever--but it's working hard, earning some keep, and keeping those you love close by.

Maybe it is opening up a sandwich shop halfway across the world and coming home to someone you love every night.

Maybe it's fill in the blank with whatever your calling is and coming home to someone you love every night.

Or at least, you know, talking to them (for those of us who are currently in Japan or on other such adventures).

So yes. Let's live our lives--wherever that may be--to the fullest.

And tell those we love that we love them.

And show them also.

And continue to eat the best sandwiches. Ever.

At least for today, anyway.

playing tokyo

I think I drank my weight in water today.

Two shows and a gig makes for one very tired and thirsty individual, I have realized.

Add to that the emotional aspect of being so far from home and communication with loved ones feeling difficult at best, I think tired might be an understatement.

But, I am grateful to be doing what I am doing; being here in Japan, playing the show, and then getting to play my own music as well.

It's too much.

Too big.

Who would have thought?

And just look at that pretty piano; I loved every minute with it.
And I wish you could really see the size of the room from this pic, but you can't.
I guess the max is supposed to be about 40 people for the place, but I would say there was closer to 60 of us all mashed together, trying not to sweat.

Out of my set, I played one brand new song--the one I wrote here, last week--though I always hesitate to play a brand new song that has yet to be tested before an audience. I like to run them by someone first--someone safe, like Drew or a friend. But I decided to throw caution to the wind, practice this week like crazy, and just do it, like Nike says.

After all, the song is about being in Japan, so what better place to play it than when I am actually in Japan?

It was really really fun. I love playing and singing for people; it truly gives me life and I am blessed that people listen.

The Japanese people were asking for signatures and were taking pictures with me afterwards, too, which I thought was funny. But not nearly as funny as when one of the guys said, Kristine, Kristine! Picture???

I didn't even bother to correct him, either. I just took the picture with a bit bigger of a smile than usual.

Another thing that continues to blow me away is the amount of support that our cast shows every time we play. Seriously, they keep coming out. And it's not lost on me. Today was a two show day, the room was small and hot, and all of us were hungry. And yet, they listened and cheered and continue to tell me that they love it.

They are truly amazing.

And now to the business of going to bed.

And though it will not make me any money, per se, I think I am going to like this business a lot.

I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.

So some of the things that are lost in translation over here I just find hilarious.

Like tonight while a friend and I were looking through a rack of rompers I saw that the tag of a certain grey romper read: gley.

Ha. I smiled and moved on.

But then I saw something that was just too good to not document. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am a staunch Eagles fan; where I live, it's right up there with your religion. You're Catholic and you're an Eagles fan. Or you're Jewish and you're an Eagles fan. Or you're like me: you're a Christian who is also very much in love with a man who is very much obsessed with the eagles and you're an Eagles fan.

And please excuse the excessive use of colons so far, not sure why I am so generous with them tonight, but I'll just go with it.

Now with all that said, I was pretty surprised to see this printed on a knit dress in Harajuku, here in Tokyo.
So that's for Josh, my brother who loves the Cowboys.

Not quite sure how he feels about the Delias Cowboys, though.

At least they don't have to deal with T.O., I guess.

And in case you think I am not being adventurous enough by traveling halfway across the world, here's proof that I am really living it up here.
Cause I ate one of those bad boys tonight.

And don't be fooled by the fact that it kind of looks like a pancake.

Cause it didn't taste like one in the least.

I'm not that lucky.

And just to come full circle, I will leave you with this: that was one last colon.

You're welcome.

yes, disney seas

Okay, so you can laugh if you want, but last week I was feeling so homesick that I decided going to see Mickey Mouse would do me good here in Japan.

Cause you know, he's a familiar face.

I've been visiting him at different points in my life for as long as I can remember and I just knew if I went to his home here in Tokyo, it could be comforting.

Like soul food.

Only with rides and New England, Old New York, Acraba, and a surprising amount of popcorn stands.

So, we set off to Disney Seas today, after the show, of course.

And I was not disappointed.

Rumor has it that Disney Seas is the best park to come out of the Imagineers yet and I can see why. It's very beautiful, full of wonder, and not at all geared towards little children and cartoons. Though they would love it too, it's sort of like Epcot in that it's interesting and stimulating for all ages.

And it's really big.

You can also see Tokyo Bay from it, which adds to the magic.

Here I am, totally excited to have just purchased my half-day ticket for only 31,00 yen, I may add. That sounds like a lot, but it's really only about $31, American.

Now, we only had about three and a half hours in the park, so I needed to be a little die hard about it. Our first stop was Journey to the Middle of the Earth. We waited in line for about an hour, but it was well worth the wait.

I honesty loved it. I mean, you get shot out of a freaking volcano, for goodness' sake. What's not to love about that?

After that we saw some of a killer light show on the water, and when Mickey Mouse came out in a headdress and speaking Japanese we all started laughing. I'm sorry, but you would have too.

However, being me, I had gotten really hungry. Again. I spend most of my time in search of food here, it seems. A few of us made a beeline for Old New York, thinking to find some familiar food there and getting excited when we saw a "deli."

But every sandwich had mayonnaise. Of course. And it's really hard to explain how much mayo ruins a sandwich for me using the Japanese words that I know: please, thank you, good morning, yes, no, good-bye, and hello. Realizing that my chances of actually getting a mayo-free sandwich were slim to none, I opted for the chicken and vegetable soup just like mom makes, or so it said.

Yeah well my mom doesn't just heat up water, throw a few things in there to float in it and call it soup. Just saying.

But I put it in my stomach anyway, cause remember? I was hungry.

At that point, David and I broke off to do the Indiana Jones ride. And once again we couldn't help laughing at Indy speaking in Japanese. I also couldn't resist saying in frustration over and over again, I Can't Speak Japanese!, a la Chris Farley in the SNL skit in which he was an American tourist in some Asian game show.

From there, we literally ran through Cape Cod, Ariel's Grotto, some sort of outdoor show, and a whole heck of a lot of people to try to make the Tower of Terror. Thinking we wouldn't make it, we settled for 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, a ride that we had both been on as kids at some point.

It was another blast. We had our own pod, we were in control of Oxygen, depth, and steering. We saw Atlantis, which, as it turns out, isn't lost after all. There were alien like sea monsters who we were sort of afraid of until we saw that they were helping us and then felt badly for judging them. Of course there was a giant squid and he was just plain bad. That much was clear even if the whole narration was in Japanese.

As we strolled past the Tower of Terror, we were happily surprised to see that it was still open and waltzed right in. And to make it even better, it was a different theme, too. Because the Twilight Zone doesn't mean anything to the Japanese, the story was about some sort of doctor who took a little statue into his home and then the statue came to life, cursed the good doctor's mansion, and suddenly disappeared. Of course, we could have misinterpreted because again, I DON'T SPEAK JAPANESE!!!

At the point when the creature disappeared, it was such a special and unanticipated effect that David and I started clapping and cheering wildly. Our Japanese ride-mates joined in and by the time the lights were back on all of us were laughing hysterically and there was a really nice feeling of camaraderie.

He we are in the top left corner with all of our fellow elevator riders.

And I didn't find out that Minnie, Mickey, Goofy, and Donald were on the same elevator (!!!) until I saw this; otherwise, I totally would have said konichiwa.

And then here is just another glimpse of the park, Venice.
There were gondolas, too, but by this point it was past 10 o'clock and we were all getting gently and magically encouraged to please leave, arogoto gunzymos!

My feet are killing me, but it was totally and absolutely fun. Oh, and I also had two rounds of carmel corn. Yum, yum, yum.

a month without my precious Emoji (which is fun picture texting, for those of you who don't know).

I have been without a phone now for two and a half weeks.

And it's funny, part of me likes it.

I have an Iphone, so basically it carries my whole media life: texting, email, the web, twitter, FB, GPS, oh yeah, and the ability to actually call people, though I know that is terribly out of fashion for the most part.

But well, now I have once again learned the art of planning. Appointing set times to meet another person. Scheduling out your next day before you go to bed and including those you would like to join you in it.

And I also get the nice surprise of a big fat full inbox when I get home from work. Used to be, I'd read every email or notification I received, just as soon as it came in, but not now.

Now I check my messages, etc., in the morning and at night. And it's a nice thing for me to anticipate.

But there are a few times when I really do miss my phone.

And that is during the Cassie/Paul break in the show. Usually, I kick off my heels and check my Iphone and it's a fun departure from all things A Chorus Line. Now...I TALK TO MY FRIENDS (gasp!).I know, crazy; it's like this new Japan Jessica is completely unrecognizable, I've changed so much!

Okay, so maybe the tradeoff isn't all that bad.

Specially since there are some people here who are totally worth talking to.

But another time that I really miss it?

Every time I want to get a hold of Drew. Which is no less than three and no more than twenty times a day. But now when I can't talk to him, I realize that I can pray for him, so there's that.

But other than that, I really am not missing it too much. It's kind of nice to not be checking up on the world all the time and instead just take the time to take inventory on what is happening in my own little corner.

Or you know, in my own heart.

I've also been listening to my ipod a lot while commuting to work every day, and this I LOVE. I people watch, look for hilarious Japanese t-shirts that say something in English that makes no sense whatsoever--this one my friend Jordan took, and I think it is quite funny.

We had a fun time talking about how at least they were honest, they said it was sufficient, they didn't say it was wonderful and yada yada yada. Basically, the towel will do the trick, but don't expect heavenly clouds drying your body off, people; and don't say we didn't warn you, either.

And in English, no less.

But my point is, I travel the city with music providing a soundtrack and I enjoy it so much. It's like my own world within a world and it's just me and a lot of notes and a lot of words and sometimes there isn't much that is better than that.

Except if I had headphones that actually did me the courtesy of staying in my ears.

Then it might be better.

And by might I mean definitely.

But back to the Iphone thing. How about you guys? You ever gone without technology for a while? How did it make you feel?

a night at the on sen

I think that I just drank whole milk in my cereal for the first time in a long time. I cannot be absolutely positive, but it seemed thicker in substance. The only thing I can be sure of in the case of this milk is that it is indeed

"the milk that is milked"

because that is the only English on the whole carton.

Good to know.

I certainly wouldn't want to be caught drinking milk that was not milked!

After having a pretty good matinee today, a group of us decided to visit the Japanese on sen, also known as the baths.

But this place wasn't just baths, believe me. It was food and shops and massages and beauty treatments (they had half and whole--I was very curious to find out what treatment left you looking only half beautiful. And uh, which half, for that matter!?).

Upon entering, you immediately remove your shoes and get to pick out your kimono of choice. Of course I wanted the one that turned out to be the child's pick. Oops. The lady then pointed out the kimono's in Large that would be appropriate for the American beast that I am. I tried to motion to her that they might be too wide for me, but she just kept motioning with her arm outstretched above her head to tell me that I was tall.

That I was large.

Fine, I thought, hand it over.

And I took my large kimono and went to the women's dressing area.

And was transformed.

Uh, I hope it wasn't too racist to put my fingers up like that, but see I couldn't help but flash back to the time I was Lead Chinese in The Nutcracker and well, that was how we bowed. I know, I know, Japanese is not Chinese, but still, it is Asian right?

Since we were all ravenously hungry, we ate first. Unfortunately, I had to order two dinners. And no, not to live up to my large kimono. Rather, the first dinner was completely busted, and so after offering all of it up as free game to my friends, I tried again and landed something much more palatable.

You usually can't go wrong with a bowl of steaming buckwheat noodles in a plain broth.

Rules to live by in Japan.

Then we stayed in the co-ed area (which means you get to leave your kimono on) and walked the foot baths for a while.
There were these rocks that were supposed to massage your feet, but really they just reminded me of walking on my parents' gravel lane without shoes on. Since I lived there and basically did that all the time, I was pretty used to the feeling. Not so much with my friends.
And while we were waiting for the next main attraction, we sat down for a bit and just enjoyed the beauty of the night air and our feet in the warm water.
But finally here was what we were all waiting for.

The pedicure with a twist.

We went into a special foot bath armed with many tiny piranha-like fish whose one job was to eat off the dead skin from your feet.

No lie.

I will admit that the first one to start eating my foot gave me a fright and I inadvertently kicked him off, poor little guy. I mean, he was just doing his job. But really, it's just not natural to allow your feet to be eaten.

But then it felt kind of good.

And after I stopped kicking, a few more fishies tested this latest feast.

But then?

Well, suddenly my feet became the latest Steak N Shake to open below the Mason-Dixon line and these fish were hungry. Trucker hungry. Super-size me, hungry.
And literally, my feet were covered in swarms of them. Not even just my feet, either; these suckers (literally!) were climbing right up to my calves to get some decent dead skin to eat.
Oh, and the jokes were hilarious.

Jess, you should try moisturizing every once in a while!

Hardy har har, guys. As if I don't live my life hating the time it takes to slather my entire body in moisturizer every single day.

Jess, you ever heard of a loofah?

Well, no. Is that some Japanese ninja tool?
But really, it was so cool. And it felt really good. And my feet and calves are now silky smooth, thanks to those crazy fishies.

And then, well, we went to the baths which were separated by sex and it was time to get naked.

Yeah, there are no pictures...

Let's just say it really was relaxing, but of course kind of strange. It's just not part of the American culture to all get naked together and act like it's nothing.

Still we did our best to pretend.

Plus, it helped that we all share a dressing room for the most part, anyway!

And then, once we were fed, bathed, and our dead skin had been eaten off, we were ready for our massages, respectively.

It was an hour.

Of pure bliss.

And some pain when he found the parts of me that really hurt.

But a good pain.

And the best part? He didn't speak a word of English, so couldn't even attempt to make conversation with me.

Which brings me right back to being home again, in my hotel room, drinking milk that is milked, which you already know all about anyway.

life. always.

Irritating is when you get home from your eighth show of the week and the most creative thing you can think to do in terms of resting is laying in your freshly made bed complete with newly changed linens, thanks to the lovely maids at your hotel. You lay down for maybe a half hour or so and get up only to be sticking to the blanket. You pat the back of one of your favorite white summer dresses and find that neon green gum has not only stuck to your blankets and pillow, but is now sticking to the back of your dress, thanks to those lovely maids at your hotel.

Kind is when all you want to do is steal away to a piano and play and when you ask the concierge if they might have a piano with which you can do that, she finds a way to make it work. Not without some strings she's pulled and not without the small caveat of her having to sit in the room with you while you play. After your alloted half hour is up, she thanks you profusely for the private concert and tells you that it was her pleasure, that even though she is at work, it didn't feel like work one bit. And to top it off, you walk in tonight to a letter slipped under your door, spelling out all the times she has made that piano available to you for every day of this week. And all mentions of the rental fee that she had first hinted at are now gone completely.

Faith is remembering that we don't see the whole picture or even any of the picture well. Most of the time, we see it more like this.
And that's when you close your eyes and try to find that flickering light within called your soul. You encourage it, you bring it to places in which it will flourish, and you Let Go of all of that other stuff that does you no good.
You hold on to the threads of truth and hope to God you didn't grab onto a misconception by accident. Cause those never hold so strong.

You also wonder why your legs are shining like the noonday sun, and the thought briefly crosses your mind that you might be an X-man. Or about to burst into flames.

Authenticity is summing up what you've been given and going with it. No ego, no pride, no false humility keeping you in hiding, just doing what you do because what other choice is there? If you are a mom, you keep giving your children milk. The milk changes from liquid, to words, to discipline, to laughter, but always it is love and always it is life to them. If you are a fish you swim and do it effortlessly. And you pucker up those lips to make Oh's with that funny mouth and sooner or later you will look over and see somebody doing it beside you and find comfort in the fact that maybe you are not so strange after all.

And if you are an artist, you make art; it's no more showing off than the stars are God's way of bragging. It is what you do. You exhaust the story from within and as soon as you do, another one begs to be told. You share and you grow and you're humbled when others listen and even more so when they don't.

And if you are a Mommy Fish with minnows trailing behind who makes a living by her underwater sculptures? Well, then you just go, girl.

Memories are when you come across a picture made by the mountains and the sky and the water here in Japan and are suddenly back in your parents' bedroom. You were afraid but are no longer because you made the long slow trek from your second floor room up to The Only Safe Place In The House, also known as mom and pop's bedroom. You passed those windows and everything, staring the dark right in it's ambiguous face before you crawled up the stairs that you are pretty sure are chock full of monster's hands that are especially made for grabbing kid's ankles, and can once again just make out the framed picture on your parents' wall. And it looks almost exactly like this.

And what a comfort it is.

The Good is sometimes hard to make out clearly. It can be a little like Mt. Fuji, obscured by clouds and hidden behind more obvious and less wonderful things.
Something solid and strong can look like just a pillar of cloud when really, it's the tallest, the widest, the oldest, the best foundation.
And no, it's not the ordinary mountain that seems to be the subject here, it's the obscured shadowy looking substance behind it. And though it doesn't look like it's there so much, it's just as big and impressive and as volcanic whether we see it or not.

Irony is finally getting to ride in Japan's Romance Car,
with one of your dear, sweet girlfriends.
Cause your husband is halfway around the world and you pray that he's well and hope hard that he's happy.

tiny bathrooms and hey! a gig in Japan!

I am so tired.

Like, two-show-day tired.

Like seventh-show-of-the-week tired.

Like, I literally prayed that God would help me get through the finale in today's last show because I was just so doggone tired.

I know, you get it; I'm tired. Like, please move on.

Geez, tough crowd tonight.

Ahem.

So after my tiring seventh show (sorry, it just came out), I went with a few friends to listen to one of the guys from the Rent cast play an acoustic set at a small venue by our hotel.

And when I say small, I mean your great-grandmother's living room of the 5th story walk up flat when she lived in the Bronx. You know, you'd visit her in your Sunday best and eat a tiny T.V. dinner in front of a tiny T.V. and live for Sundays when the Ed Sullivan show would air.

Oh, that wasn't you?

Well anyway, the venue was small.

Like, venue is to small as I am to tired. And I only mention me being tired once again because I know you got that already and thought maybe using an analogy will help with you now getting how small the venue really was.

But anyway, I am in this small venue, listening to this guy play his great acoustic set basically in a living room with a bar attached to it, and suddenly my bladder feels so full. I try holding it for a while but, yeah, you can't just hold it forever.

I. Have. To. Go.

I look around for a bathroom and realize with horror that it is through this tiny door that is right where everybody is listening to the set. Not really removed at all. Just perfect.

But holding it any longer is no longer an option, so I head into the tiny bathroom. And right when I do, the guy ends his song and just starts quietly tuning for the next song.

Of course he does.

For all I know, the tuning could go on forever and since I stepped into the bathroom my need to go has gotten even worse. I think the bladder is sort of like a horse in that the closer you get to the stables, the faster the horse will go. Ah, only swap the stable for a toilet. And cantering for really needing to pee. Oh whatever, you know what I mean, right? You've felt the urge to go grow stronger with each step towards the bathroom, too?

That's what I thought.

Anyway, it's totally embarrassing because I just know that everybody can hear my own personal Niagara Falls and I might as well go stand next to the guy tuning his guitar and do it there, it's so loud and in the middle of everything. And since I had to go so badly and had held it up till then, it took forever until I stopped. I probably could have learned the Japanese language while I was waiting for my bladder to empty itself.

And what do you know, but the guy started his next song right when I finally did finish? It's all in the timing, isn't it?

Great, great, great.

I didn't even flush, I was so embarrassed. And I didn't want to remind people of my presence in the bathroom with more noises from within. Oh and if you even begin to suggest that I simply turn the faucet on to drown out whatever noises I was making, don't you think I thought of that?

I did, believe me. But lucky for me, the faucet was outside of the room with the toilet, so no good at all. Well, other than for washing your hands, I guess. But the cleanliness of my hands was not exactly what I was so preoccupied with at the moment, believe it or not.

So that was that.

Whatever, it's real life.

And a really good thing that came out of the whole experience other than me relieving myself to the entertainment of the masses and hearing some good music was that Clyde and I booked a gig there for next Saturday night. He walked right up to the management and got it done and we are both psyched to play in Tokyo. Also, there is this shiny grand piano there that I am just itching to play...

computers and kill bill cuisine

Drew and I have a new rule that involves computers and bathing.

You see, the other day I made a few mistakes.

Okay, well I probably make a few mistakes everyday but this one involved my beloved Mac.

I wanted to take a bath because I do this thing called A Chorus Line eight times a week and sometimes it just plain hurts. Also, the bathtub in my hotel room is so divine, though any bathtub that actually holds water and doesn't drain as soon as I step in it is pretty fabulous compared to the one at my house.

But I also wanted to have the use of my computer.

Yeah, you probably see where this is going; you guys are smart like that.

My first mistake was bringing my Mac into the bathroom. My second mistake was setting it down on the toilet--a toilet, I should say, that has a particularly slanted and slippery lid. And my third mistake was, when the computer started sliding off of the toilet, jumping out of the bath while soaking wet and causing a small tidal wave to hit the keyboard as I grabbed it.

Shoot.

SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!

I quickly and tenderly wiped it down and then bided my time.

And sure enough, later that night my Mac was acting funky. Whether I wanted it to or not, the mouse would highlight and drag everything it passed over. The backspace wasn't working. It was slow, like I-might-as-well-dig-up-an-encyclopedia-and-do-my-research-there slow.

I told Drew and he was like, oh no.

Um, yeah, Drew, Oh no and then some!

But then he told me to leave the computer open for the night to let it dry out and see what happens in the morning. And I prayed for it. Some may think that's strange but I think that if God cares about anything than he cares about everything; that, bottom line, he cares.

And what do you know, the morning came, and there was my computer, prettily humming away and working like a smooth operator.

OHHHH SHOOOOOOOOOOT!!!, but this time in a totally good way.

So thank you Drew for the good advice and thank you God for caring and no thank you to me for putting my mac in that precarious position in the first place.

But onto something else.

Tonight a group of us ate dinner at a restaurant that was used for one of the big fight scenes in Kill Bill. Too bad I still have not seen the movie and too bad I just ran out of my rocking yellow jumpsuits. Seriously, there are like three in my laundry right now.

In honor of its history, we decided to do some Kill Bill-ish moves.

But ended up looking more like mannequins. Whatever.

And the place was awesome. We had to take off our shoes and sit low to the ground and everything.
We even got to sit in a private room, the same one where President W himself sat when he dined there. And after enjoying seaweed salad, tofu, various skewers laden with meet, tomatoes wrapped in bacon, some sort of fish flake and potato concoction, and ice cream inundated with unidentified gelatinous cubes, we called it a night.

But not before I had a glass of plum wine, which is basically wine for toddlers and so it is actually pretty tasty.

And now, another bath. But I will be leaving my computer on the bed this time, don't you worry.

hachiko: a love story

Internet, meet Hachiko.
Hachiko, meet Internet.

See, he's a very important dog here in Tokyo. A purebred Akita, his story is one of loyalty and faithfulness. But, back up for a bit.

Hachiko's owner was a professor who worked at the University of Tokyo. Every day Hachiko saw him off at their front door and then made his way to Shibuya Station in downtown Tokyo to meet him at his train and walk him home in the early evening. But one day, the professor never did come home, having had a stroke and died while at the University.

But Hachiko waited at the train station, just like every other day.

However, Hachiko was eventually taken in by another family and you might think that the story ends there.

It doesn't.

Hachiko continually escaped back to his master's old home, purportedly looking for the professor. Realizing that he wasn't there, the dog made his way back to the train station, parking himself at his usual spot, at the usual time, waiting to meet his master at the end of the day. Though he never saw him, this did not deter Hachiko from trying again and again, innocently hoping that his dear friend would come home.

Other commuters recognized Hachiko and remembered the professor fondly and so started bringing treats and food for Hachiko to enjoy during his daily wait.

And this went on for 10 years.

Hachiko never did see his beloved professor on this earth again but I like to think they are reunited in Heaven now.

Sure you can tell me how that is not theologically sound and honestly, that doesn't interest me as much as this sweet love story between a man and his dog; and I think God cares about that enough to maybe bring them back together again.

I get to pass this statue of Hachiko everyday now, going to and from Shibuya Station.

Sweet, loyal Hachiko is an inspiration to us all.
The end.