Read days 1, 2, 3 first...you know the drill.

It Should Be A Crime To Make Me Leave This Place.

"Come with me, come with me. We'll travel to infinity."

The last six days have been among the most amazing of my life. On morning three of my commute to Tamagawa, I mastered the route. It takes about an hour and 15 minutes to get to the school from my place in Tanashi, which I don't mind. Here is my daily commute:

I wake up two and a half hours earlier than I need to be at class, usually at 6:15am. I walk about 10 minutes to Tanashi Station, and use my Pasmo (like a train station debit card) to swipe me through the turnstyle. I wait for the rapid express train to the Seibu-Shinjuku. I cram into a train full of crisp, tired Japanese people, who sway silently with the rhythm of the train, headphones in, cell phones out, dead to the world. I get off 15 minutes later at Seibu-Shinjuku, the end of the line. I actually physically leave the station, and walk about 15 minutes in downtown Shinjuku (which is beautiful) to the Odakyu line, which is at the underground west entrance of Shinjuku's main station. I take the rapid express train to Odawara, and get off about 30 minutes in at Machida station. I get off, and take the local train doubling back one stop in the direction I came, to Tamagawagakuenmae. It's beyond me why the rapid train doesn't stop at Tamagawagakuenmae when it's a major university....anyway, after that, I walk about 10 minutes up the hill to the Cultural Studies building. (By the way, the mind-bogglingly confusing stop turned out to be "Takadanobaba", one stop away from Seibu-Shinjuku.)

So far the routine at Tamagawa has basically been to participate in bilingual chat sessions, take half-assed Japanese lessons, and be stereotypical mascots for America, visiting classrooms and forcing students to ask us questions in broken English about Seattle and what the clam chowder is like there. The first year students are very quiet and feign understanding less English than they actually do. We got to listen to them practice presentations about what music they like in English that they'll have to give later on in the week. I recognized a vast majority of the artists. Among the most popular were Radwimps and Mr. Children. This one 18 year old girl, though, was in love with Tom Waits. That made me so, so happy. There was also a girl, Hikaru, who was a big Marilyn Manson fan. I flipped my shit when I found out, and we exchanged e-mail addresses. She was equally as ecstatic, explaining that she had yet to have found anyone that had even heard of him. 

We are mostly led to classes and lunch by the club kids. They are the nicest, most personable, enthusiastic people I have ever met. They are hardworking, and love to laugh. Among the ones we see most often are Texas, Momoka, Haruka, Yuya, and Ayumi. Texas gets her name from the time she visited Dallas on exchange. Momoka is small, adorable, and listens to a lot of American punk music. Haruka is sort of quiet, and is also sometimes called Maryland because of her exchange experience there. Yuya is an excitable young man with shaggy hair who has an undying love for the Nickelodeon show Drake and Josh....I don't even know how that happened...and Ayumi is very nice and maternal, and goes out of her way to make sure we are comfortable at Tamagawa. She also has an adorable Australian accent because she lived in Australia for about a year. Ayumi, Texas, and Yuya helped me purchase the converter plug and LAN cable that made it possible for me to post these blogs. Hanging out them after school is a really great way to learn about the area and observe their conversational patterns in a very Discovery Channel-like way. When they babble in Japanese, I can understand much more than I can actually communicate back, but I'm picking it up. In a perfect world, I'd be able to communicate with them on their level and not force them to slow down, backtrack, or whip out their electronic dictionaries to search for English vocabulary words. I hope I'll get to that point soon. Days after class at Tamagawa are spent bullshitting at McDonald's--their medium cup size is our large....lord--shopping, and going to karaoke. Occasionally I'll have a hard time with karaoke because I can't read some of the kanji...but usually I can just guess in context, and if I can't, at least everyone gets a good lol out of it. 

The commute is definitely notable because it takes up such a large amount of my time each day. That, plus I do it alone, so it's just me and my mind and my music keeping me busy for 2 and a half hours a day getting to Machida and back. From every corner of Tokyo, to the office of every business in the city, it's all exactly the same. Leave your house, walk briskly to the station, swipe your Pasmo card, get on the train in silence, block everybody out, deboard the train, swipe your Pasmo again, and continue on along the brightly lit streets to your destination. It never fails to be the most perplexing and eerie part of my day and night. Once boarding the train, everyone finds a seat or stands facing the window, hand clutching one of the straps hanging from the ceiling. No one speaks, no one sings, no one says a word. Most of them have their headphones in, and usually whip out their cell phones as soon as they sit down. Sometimes their eyes will wander, but if they make accidental eye contact, they immediately panic and look straight ahead, pretending nothing happened. The first time anyone smiled back at me was last night; a black man riding the Seibu-Shinjuku line made eye contact with me and smiled back, like we had some kind of inside secret. It wasn't until Wednesday that I realized that, when I get on the train and stand, I am the only person facing the inside of the train. Everybody else has their head down, facing the window, away from everybody else. God forbid someone should tap a stranger on the shoulder and start a conversation--I don't think they would respond. It's dark, silent, and at night, disconcerting. Occasionally a group of loud high school boys or drunken businessmen will get on and start yelling about nothing until their stop comes, but generally it's slightly torturous if I don't have my headphones in. I know it's routine for these people--that they've been making the same commute on the same line for many years, and that there's no one new to talk to and nothing new to see out the window. It's just....kind of scary. 

On Tuesday, I brought up the fact that I play in a band in one of the classes we were speaking to, and a first or second year named Tomoya said he was also in a band. His eyes lit up when I said I knew the band Paramore, and he came to our chat session that afternoon. After talking to his band, Diana and I decided it would be fun to drop in on their band and play a few songs with them. Because we're American and they thought it would be best to pick some American "punk" songs, they ended up picking "Sweetness" by Jimmy Eat World and "Sk8ter Boi" by Avril Lavigne. After maximum lulz, I decided that it would have to be fun no matter what. So on Thursday I brought my guitar to the studio they rent out in Machida, and learned the guitar parts. Even though it would have normally been the ultimate lame, it was ridiculously fun and awesome, and it actually sounded great. Plus, I would have played anything--I miss being with my band back home. 

"I want certain words more than a thousand flowers."

One of the classes we visited was an agriculture class that had recently gotten back from a 6 month excursion in Canada. They split us up, with two Japanese students to each American student, so we could converse in English and help them out with it. The boy to the right of me was Shiro, a tennis enthusiast who also enjoys snowboarding. To the left of me was Atsushi, a partial otaku with a penchant for manga with RIDICULOUSLY LONG eyelashes. Seriously, I don't know how he even sees out of those things. So we got to talking, and he noticed my guitar. He said he didn't know much about guitars, but that his best friend, who sat to his left, owned one. His name was Yohei, and we started talking. He was tall, very Japanese looking, and had nice long-ish hair. We talked about guitars for awhile, and I asked if he knew of any guitar shops in the area because I want to buy a temporary amp while I'm here. He said that he could take me to one. After we met, the time spent in the class was agonizingly short, and as we left, I shouted in Japanese that he should find me tomorrow. And, sure enough, at the next day's chat session, I found he and Atsushi standing awkwardly by the door. Laughing, I invited them in. We exchanged Skype/e-mail/phone information, and they left, all of us giggling awkwardly and not really knowing what to do or say.

I've spent the last few nights talking to Yohei on Skype until far too late for someone who gets up at 6:15am. I've only been here a week, and I'm already flashing back to high school--checking my contact list every 20 minutes to see if he's signed online yet. It's like I'm 15 again. Pathetic, but admittedly exciting. He and Atsushi are taking Diana and I to Akihabara next weekend. Yohei also said he'd stop by our chat session this Wednesday for an hour between classes so he can say hi to me. That made me way happier than it probably should have. He's incredibly sincere, which is a giant leap from anyone I've been involved with from the states. I told him that I can live in Tokyo forever if I get a job and a work visa, and he's been sending me loads of links for local vocal auditions. I often find myself encouraging others because I enjoy it very much, but it's startling to see someone who suddenly cares about my dream so much. In a perfect world, I would get signed to a major label subsidiary, get engaged, and live a perfect life touring and coming home to a guy that's actually happy to see me walk in the door. 

Yeah, right.

Shinjuku lights flash and deter my mind from any calm state I could have possibly attempted to be in. The walk between stations is only 15 minutes, but it doesn't hesitate to slam into your mind and barrage you with flashing suggestions for beer, tobacco, pachinko, karaoke, new albums, everything you could possibly ever want to experience or buy. They twinkle like rainbow colored, mutant stars along the crowded streets. I spent last night in Harajuku with my friends, and the never-ending flashing lights accompanied by employees in uniforms screaming advertisements and handing out flyers with catchy music playing in speakers on every corner is unlike anything I've ever seen. I'm thankful to return to sleepy Tanashi each night, which, although it's large, is mostly apartment buildings housing families and their children with one big, main department store.