Tadada ki atte

The wonderful thing about learning a new language is being able to listen to songs and not understand what they mean, but to enjoy them for what they are. I'm one of the people who thinks lyrics aren't always relevant in a song. If you want to argue this it's always easy to cite examples from the listening record of the person you're arguing against, although he or she might not want to admit it. Then again, we can go all semantics on the word "relevant" and debate what that means. Whatever. Still it's true that knowing some of the lyrics is pretty すごい. And being able to pronounce all of them if given the lyrics with hiragana readings is even greater.

In Japan they sell singles and albums for much higher prices than in any other country, except maybe Korea (I don't know if it works the same way over there, but it could) and France (because nobody knows what a good price is over there), but even in France they're not as expensive. You've got singles going for about 10.5 dollars and albums going from 25 to 30 or higher. Hmm, I should've bought more Japanese music in Japan. Like, the cheaper used albums and such. Because right now, as of now, I am really feeling this music.

Japanese music has something distinct about it, there's no doubt. Mr. Children and Perfume both sound the same in certain areas because in America there's nothing like it, and the same is probably true for other countries nearby to Japan and ones not so nearby. I think now's a pretty bad time to be getting into it, because I'm not in Japan anymore and haven't been for more than two months. (Almost was more than 6 months, but I changed my mind, albeit a bit late if you know what I mean.) Man, I miss Japan, most of all the people I met when I was there.

And I can't really go back, at least to expect the same experience. Because the people would all be so different; none of my foreign friends would be there. What on earth would Kansai Gaidai be like in the fall? Geez, I don't know...

That's a real heartbreaker. Brings a real tear or two to my eye.

I can still remember about a half a year ago now, no, more than that, when I would be sitting in my room and the room would be cold, because Japan's weather switches temperature fast, and I'd be chilling and chattering in my room. And then I'd put on my Adio jacket, which has finally come back into my life after 5 months of French-ass separation, and listen to Freeze by T-Pain (featuring Chris Brown). Man, I got so bored of my music selection when I was in Japan. There was literally nothing new to listen to, for some reason. It's because my ears weren't looking for it. Why did I get tired of Japan?

Wait, did I? Maybe I did. Because it worked me to the hilt.

When you've got so many new experiences and so much excitement, how can you expect anything else but to be so tired? And the exercise was part of it too. It helped, not failed to help. Without it, it wouldn't have been the same wonderful thing.

I wonder what my host family thought about me singing in my room. They couldn't have known I was dancing in it. The glass window on my door was not see-through on either side. I wonder what anyone would think about me if they had to live with me all the time. Well, some people have. I guess I've only had the experience once in my life of living with someone new who hasn't ever known my before they started living with me. That's Brian freshman year. And it worked out, that was an awesome experience. I guess it worked out in Japan and France (not always all the time but it still worked) too.

I guess I can get by without having lived the second Japan experience I know I wanted to now. Makes your heart feel real empty, though. My heart. Yeah.

But sitting by my computer, and dancing by it, and reciting the lyrics out loud makes me relive a fundamental part of my Japan experience. Where I was alone. Me. In my room, dancing and singing my heart out, to songs like "Green Light" and "Freeze" and just jiving as I always did in my heart, in myself as I know I am.

Damn, sometimes words just fail. And that's when joy prevails.