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.

normal special

I think that it's better to just be introduced as pretty normal.

Or at least, normal in the way that it is normal for everyone to be special. Not more special, necessarily. Just normal special.

Let me explain.

Before meeting someone recently, a mutual friend described him to me as the funniest person I've ever met in the world, among other things.

And not even meaning to, I start thinking that wow, this guy has got to be just hilarious. And suddenly I am totally excited to have my own version of Jim Gaffigan in my life. He'll sing the Hot Pocket! song and then just when you think that he's exhausted the joke completely, he'll throw a curve ball and sing it in Spanish: Caliente Pocket! And you'll think it's even funnier because you had a horse named Caliente when you were little and wow, how ironic, and boy isn't that funny?

At least, that's the kind of stuff that happens when I listen to Jim Gaffigan.

But now that I've met this guy? I keep waiting for the Extreme Funny to happen.

For the punch line, so to speak.

But it still hasn't happened. In fact, at times he has not even picked up on my sarcasm!

But if I had had no preconceived notions about his omnipotent sense of humor, then I would probably just think that sure, he's funny. Yet, because I had this expectation and keep measuring him against it, he unfortunately comes out lacking.

Poor guy.

Not his fault at all, and he really is an awesome individual; he's just not the funniest person in the world but really, who is?!?!

So anyway, that is why I think it might be a good idea to avoid referring to others as the MOST IN THE WORLD of anything, really.

Unless when it comes to a lack of sense of direction, cause then I totally win.

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.