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.
