In celebration of Maaya's long running Vitamin-M radio show passing it's 400th episode mark Bay-FM has made Maaya's show available to listen to online:
http://www.bayfm.co.jp/ip/index.html
Enjoy!
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Sunday, 22 November 2009
I.D Essay Book - When I was a Child Star (Part 2)
Part Two ^^V
Completely Caught off Guard
The first youth theatre company entrance audition I had taken consisted of several hundred children and their parents all gathered together. Some important-looking people came out wearing suits and greeted us in an enthusiastic, movie-business-like way: “Greetings to you, the stars of tomorrow!” The actual test was simple, things like keeping up a rhythm etc. and we were moved along in an assembly line fashion. The end. The whole of the large building we were in was composed of the theatre company’s offices, and to me it seemed like a very adult world.
And then there was ‘Komadori’.
It was located in a place so quiet as to make you want to say, “Eh? Here?!”
After nervously opening the door there stood a single middle aged woman. She came over with a large booming “Why hello there!” and then “What? You’re a third year at elementary school? You’re pretty small, aren’t you!” While sipping tea and folding her newspaper and she seemed just like my own grandmother even though this was the first time we had met. She was more chirpy than was necessary. Komadori was, from the hall to the main room, an old building that was small enough to be able to see everything in it all at once. It was very different to my expectations.
“OK, now Mum you just sit there. Maaya, you come over here” she suddenly used just my first name. Then without any warning the audition started. The old lady who I’d thought was just the receptionist was actually the representative of the theatre group, and its manager, and its teacher of theatrics. Without paying any attention to how overwhelmed I was the questions came flying out immediately.
“There’s a boat in front of you. Your mother is on that boat. She’s going off to a foreign country right now! Shout something to her, whatever you want. Go!”
Even if you say ‘go!’ like that…er…anyway I gave “Mama!” a try. Silence. The “Old lady” who was now my “teacher” sat there looking at me without saying anything. There was nothing for it, I added “Come back some day!” My teacher was still silent. Even trying to call out again produced no reaction. For a moment she stared into space then suddenly got up urging, “Look, the boat’s going, say something!” Waving my hand and trying to give off some feeling of a growing distance I continued to call “Mama! Mama!” Finish.
Without any feedback we moved onto the next situation. “Huh? Did I do something wrong?” I was suddenly nervous.
Other questions consisted of “You’ve mislaid something important to you, you’re free to move around so go ahead and search this room” etc. and continued at a surprisingly difficult level. Being given various situations and then being free to develop a story and then give an impromptu performance – in theatre this is called an ‘etude’. Giving something difficult like this to just an ordinary elementary school student! I laugh when I think about it now.
When we were finished with this the teacher said “Everyone will come soon, why don’t you try taking a lesson with us?” Everyone? A lesson?
Then with an attitude of ‘it’s us, the kids!’ lots of boys and girls surged into this weird old room. I had no idea what was going on but all of them were talking in loud voices. The teacher raised her voice, “Oi, you lot! This is Maaya and she’s going to be joining our lesson today so make friends, ok?”
I see, this lady’s voice is loud in order to shut up these ten children all in one go. As one, all of these sweaty, red-faced children looked my way. I found out afterwards that as the room is too narrow for rehearsals where one can move one’s body about, the first rule seemed to be to come to lessons after playing as much as one wants in the park. Very strange. Very, very strange. I don’t think there’s another youth theatre group like this one. No, there’s definitely not another one like it. I’ve never heard of one.
My first lesson. Vocal exercises and tongue-twisters, then reading lines in pairs. Well, I think that’s pretty much like any theatre group but Komadori was NOISY!!
The children were reading their lines like anyone would but would then shout them without any reserve at all. The boys mostly started to play ‘pro-wrestling’. And then the teacher would shout at them one by one “Oi!”, and “You’re too noisy!”, and “Be quiet!” but it had no effect at all. Two hours seemed to fly by and the lesson was suddenly over. As I was preparing to go home, tired out by the hours of shouting, the teacher said “Next week from 10’o’clock, ok?”
Somehow, it seemed I had passed.
Completely Caught off Guard
The first youth theatre company entrance audition I had taken consisted of several hundred children and their parents all gathered together. Some important-looking people came out wearing suits and greeted us in an enthusiastic, movie-business-like way: “Greetings to you, the stars of tomorrow!” The actual test was simple, things like keeping up a rhythm etc. and we were moved along in an assembly line fashion. The end. The whole of the large building we were in was composed of the theatre company’s offices, and to me it seemed like a very adult world.
And then there was ‘Komadori’.
It was located in a place so quiet as to make you want to say, “Eh? Here?!”
After nervously opening the door there stood a single middle aged woman. She came over with a large booming “Why hello there!” and then “What? You’re a third year at elementary school? You’re pretty small, aren’t you!” While sipping tea and folding her newspaper and she seemed just like my own grandmother even though this was the first time we had met. She was more chirpy than was necessary. Komadori was, from the hall to the main room, an old building that was small enough to be able to see everything in it all at once. It was very different to my expectations.
“OK, now Mum you just sit there. Maaya, you come over here” she suddenly used just my first name. Then without any warning the audition started. The old lady who I’d thought was just the receptionist was actually the representative of the theatre group, and its manager, and its teacher of theatrics. Without paying any attention to how overwhelmed I was the questions came flying out immediately.
“There’s a boat in front of you. Your mother is on that boat. She’s going off to a foreign country right now! Shout something to her, whatever you want. Go!”
Even if you say ‘go!’ like that…er…anyway I gave “Mama!” a try. Silence. The “Old lady” who was now my “teacher” sat there looking at me without saying anything. There was nothing for it, I added “Come back some day!” My teacher was still silent. Even trying to call out again produced no reaction. For a moment she stared into space then suddenly got up urging, “Look, the boat’s going, say something!” Waving my hand and trying to give off some feeling of a growing distance I continued to call “Mama! Mama!” Finish.
Without any feedback we moved onto the next situation. “Huh? Did I do something wrong?” I was suddenly nervous.
Other questions consisted of “You’ve mislaid something important to you, you’re free to move around so go ahead and search this room” etc. and continued at a surprisingly difficult level. Being given various situations and then being free to develop a story and then give an impromptu performance – in theatre this is called an ‘etude’. Giving something difficult like this to just an ordinary elementary school student! I laugh when I think about it now.
When we were finished with this the teacher said “Everyone will come soon, why don’t you try taking a lesson with us?” Everyone? A lesson?
Then with an attitude of ‘it’s us, the kids!’ lots of boys and girls surged into this weird old room. I had no idea what was going on but all of them were talking in loud voices. The teacher raised her voice, “Oi, you lot! This is Maaya and she’s going to be joining our lesson today so make friends, ok?”
I see, this lady’s voice is loud in order to shut up these ten children all in one go. As one, all of these sweaty, red-faced children looked my way. I found out afterwards that as the room is too narrow for rehearsals where one can move one’s body about, the first rule seemed to be to come to lessons after playing as much as one wants in the park. Very strange. Very, very strange. I don’t think there’s another youth theatre group like this one. No, there’s definitely not another one like it. I’ve never heard of one.
My first lesson. Vocal exercises and tongue-twisters, then reading lines in pairs. Well, I think that’s pretty much like any theatre group but Komadori was NOISY!!
The children were reading their lines like anyone would but would then shout them without any reserve at all. The boys mostly started to play ‘pro-wrestling’. And then the teacher would shout at them one by one “Oi!”, and “You’re too noisy!”, and “Be quiet!” but it had no effect at all. Two hours seemed to fly by and the lesson was suddenly over. As I was preparing to go home, tired out by the hours of shouting, the teacher said “Next week from 10’o’clock, ok?”
Somehow, it seemed I had passed.
Saturday, 21 November 2009
I.D Essay Book - When I was a Child Star (Part 1)
This is a pretty long essay from the I.D Essay book so I've divided into sub-sections, it's like that in the original essay so it doesn't jar too much. The essay is a bout 50 pages so I think I'm justified ha, ha. We'll see how it goes. Anyway, here's the first part.
Note: 80,000yen is roughly £550.
When I was a Child Star
The Very Beginning
When I was 8 years old I entered a youth theatre group.
From when I was very small I was raised on going to see various plays through my father’s work, so it was natural for me to be drawn to the stage. Musicals especially for children, difficult and absurd plays, Japanese dance, foreign opera, recitals and monodramas – whether I understood what was going or not I saw every possible type of play.
My father is a stage lighting planner. So sometimes I was taken to the rehearsal rooms, and I often got to see plays, not from where the audience sits but from the ‘Lighting Box’ where the light technicians work. The back stage staff in black clothing rushing around behind the flamboyant stage, the thick make-up the actors wore which would startle you if you looked closely, the magnificent looking stage props which were actually made from painted wood and cloth, I knew about all of this even as a child.
Because I knew this, my dream of “I want to be an actress!” was more than just a wish but was something I felt I could aim for in reality. I have seen countless times the actors who would make mistakes, get angry and cry in the rehearsal rooms many times over and then seemed to undergo a sparkling transformation into completely different people on stage. Sweating, losing one’s voice, getting angry and crying one’s eyes out, and then on top of that putting on a performance…even so, they seemed pretty happy. I felt that there was surely some kind of special power flowing out from the top of that stage. That mysterious place that they came back to, no matter how much they suffered, when I realised what I was doing I too had began walking towards it.
These feelings came to a head when one day I saw the advertising flyer of a certain large youth theatre company that came with our newspaper. Not an as audience member, not from the lighting box, this time I want to see the theatre from standing on the stage. My parents said afterwards that, “Well, we knew you would say something like that some day but it was a bit earlier than we expected”. The day of the audition to join the group came quickly and then some days afterwards the letter to say I had passed arrived.
But. I was shocked when I heard the amount of money that would be needed to join the troupe. Separate to the actual membership fee, there were various teaching materials that would need purchasing amongst other things, and the letter read ‘so please send 80,000yen, ok?’ Back then I was a pretty stingy child (although at present this has mellowed somewhat) so “They never said anything about it being so expensive! I quit, I quit”. I withdrew without losing any sleep over the matter.
It was a sum vastly different to the monthly costs of the calligraphy and swimming classes that I was going to at the time and I was truly surprised by it. I’d thought of it as just one other new thing I would be learning, but I suddenly found that I was feeling like it was going to be more of a pain in the neck then I had expected. I wanted to say, well if it’s like that then just buy me a game boy! But after I’d forgotten about the whole thing, a person my father knew suggested, “It’s pretty modest but there’s a theatre group I know of that does things properly, how about going to have a look?” That group was the Childrens Theatre Group Komadori.
Note: 80,000yen is roughly £550.
When I was a Child Star
The Very Beginning
When I was 8 years old I entered a youth theatre group.
From when I was very small I was raised on going to see various plays through my father’s work, so it was natural for me to be drawn to the stage. Musicals especially for children, difficult and absurd plays, Japanese dance, foreign opera, recitals and monodramas – whether I understood what was going or not I saw every possible type of play.
My father is a stage lighting planner. So sometimes I was taken to the rehearsal rooms, and I often got to see plays, not from where the audience sits but from the ‘Lighting Box’ where the light technicians work. The back stage staff in black clothing rushing around behind the flamboyant stage, the thick make-up the actors wore which would startle you if you looked closely, the magnificent looking stage props which were actually made from painted wood and cloth, I knew about all of this even as a child.
Because I knew this, my dream of “I want to be an actress!” was more than just a wish but was something I felt I could aim for in reality. I have seen countless times the actors who would make mistakes, get angry and cry in the rehearsal rooms many times over and then seemed to undergo a sparkling transformation into completely different people on stage. Sweating, losing one’s voice, getting angry and crying one’s eyes out, and then on top of that putting on a performance…even so, they seemed pretty happy. I felt that there was surely some kind of special power flowing out from the top of that stage. That mysterious place that they came back to, no matter how much they suffered, when I realised what I was doing I too had began walking towards it.
These feelings came to a head when one day I saw the advertising flyer of a certain large youth theatre company that came with our newspaper. Not an as audience member, not from the lighting box, this time I want to see the theatre from standing on the stage. My parents said afterwards that, “Well, we knew you would say something like that some day but it was a bit earlier than we expected”. The day of the audition to join the group came quickly and then some days afterwards the letter to say I had passed arrived.
But. I was shocked when I heard the amount of money that would be needed to join the troupe. Separate to the actual membership fee, there were various teaching materials that would need purchasing amongst other things, and the letter read ‘so please send 80,000yen, ok?’ Back then I was a pretty stingy child (although at present this has mellowed somewhat) so “They never said anything about it being so expensive! I quit, I quit”. I withdrew without losing any sleep over the matter.
It was a sum vastly different to the monthly costs of the calligraphy and swimming classes that I was going to at the time and I was truly surprised by it. I’d thought of it as just one other new thing I would be learning, but I suddenly found that I was feeling like it was going to be more of a pain in the neck then I had expected. I wanted to say, well if it’s like that then just buy me a game boy! But after I’d forgotten about the whole thing, a person my father knew suggested, “It’s pretty modest but there’s a theatre group I know of that does things properly, how about going to have a look?” That group was the Childrens Theatre Group Komadori.
Sunday, 18 October 2009
I.D Essay Book - First Love
Another essay from Maaya's essay book 'I.D'. This time detailing Maaya's first experience of love and her ordeal on Valentine's day. Part of it was published on Maaya's official website back in the day (2000) but the latter part is newly written for the essay book. Enjoy!
Note: in Japan on Valentine’s Day girls (not the boys) give out ‘giri-choco’ and ‘hon-choco’. ‘Giri’ means duty and you usually give it to everyone equally e.g. friends, classmates, co-workers etc. to be friendly. No special feelings. ‘Honmei-choco’ comes from 本命チョコ ‘honmei’ (real feelings) - thanks Frecklegirl. Bwahaha. So, as you might imagine, it’s special and goes to the one you like for real. Because I couldn’t think of a way to put this into English, I’ve left it as ‘giri-choco’ and put this note here. Bwahahah.
Note 2: White Day is March 14th when the boys return the favour by giving something back to the girls they received something from a month earlier.
“My First Love”
From middle school to around the second year of high school there was a boy I had a crush on. We went to different schools but we were really good friends and I really looked up to him because he was good at both studying and sports. Even though I liked him for five years there was only one time when I gave him chocolates for Valentine’s Day. My second year of middle school.
When I was in middle school I pretty much stopped watching television, I got all my information about the outside world from the radio. Around this time I made a small radio in my technology class and I used it all the time. It was around then that I began to favour Western music more as well. On the day of this Valentine memory it was this small radio that I had in the kitchen with me while I made chocolate. I say ‘making’ but it was only melting down and then hardening which anybody could have done but to me at the time it a massive operation. Even I was surprised that I had gone into the kitchen of my own will.
The plan was this.
To give chocolate not just to him, but to all my other friends too. That way no one would know that he was the real target. Make it look like ‘giri-choco’ when in fact the contents were especially for him only! I hoped that no one would notice. It wasn’t that I was giving him chocolates in order to say ‘I like you’. It was for, what would one say, self-satisfaction.
Love songs flowed one after another from the radio and various people’s Valentine stories were read out which had been faxed in. While listening to this I thought about what kind of message I would write to him. Even if I didn’t want to go as far as to confess to him, I wanted to add a few words to it. So, what I ended up writing was: ‘Thank you for everything. By the way, this isn’t ‘giri’!’ When I think of it now I laugh a lot! I can only pray that he has now thrown this card away. However, at the time, I wonder what a 14 year old boy would have made of this card? He never said anything…
Anyway! I was able to give him the chocolate safely. Remembering it, it was pretty poorly made; the chocolate looked so awful that it makes me think that it maybe it would have been better not to have handed it over at all but right then I thought it was a big success. On White Day I received candy which looked like it could have been brought from any convenience store on the way. It seemed like a waste so I didn’t eat it but put it away for a long time. In my second year of high school I found it again when I moved house and threw it away.
After we graduated middle school we were able to meet less and less and now I don’t even know his address. But in the winter of my first year of high school we met by coincidence on the train. Even though we had been such good friends, even though it had been so long since we’d last met, I got off the train without even greeting him properly. I regretted that for a long time but, it’s strange, as time has passed, I’ve found that I’ve begun to think fondly of myself back then. This chance meeting on the train became material of a song I wrote for my first album ‘Grapefruit’.
When I remember him, it always brings that small radio to mind. For whatever reason, it was lost somewhere. It’s strange that it got lost even though I left it in my house but I cannot find it. For me, a radio is an irreplaceable part of my life. That small hand-made radio was the reason that I fell in love with radio. Even if I never find it again, it is a precious treasure, a symbol of my first true memory of love and music.
What kind of life is he leading now? Has he given up basket ball? Even if there is someone I care about more now, whenever Valentine’s Day comes around, I always remember him.
“Valentine’s Day ~the whole story~”
Actually, one part of the Valentine’s story was different to what actually happened. I wrote that, “I was able to give him the chocolate safely”. In truth it was anything but safely.
On the day I clumsily put the wrapped chocolate into paper bags before heading off to cram school with him. From the outside all of them looked the same but the real thing had a label attached to make it stand out. How should I give it to him? Puffing out white gasps while peddling my bicycle, I was wrapped in the red scarf that I loved most back then.
Upon opening the door to the classroom, there was a girl I had never seen before. Long hair, pink sweater, a pleated skirt, she gave an impression of being somehow high class. The teacher introduced her to everyone, ‘Maki will be in our class from now on’.
Something felt wrong. I didn’t like the fact someone had joined our class. On top of that she was cute. I was worried. My rivals had increased by one. I was worried. She looks clever too. Worried, worried, worried…
Then the main event of the day.
“Let’s end class here.” With the teacher’s words the battle plan was put into operation. I plucked up my courage and began to call out “Um…”, at that moment:
“Um, I’ve brought some chocolate cake that I made with me. It’s Valentine’s Day after all ♥” said Maki.
Crashing and clattering. This was the sound of all the simulations that my head had produced for today of this moment and my carefully planned Valentine’s Day operation being obliterated. Ca-, cake? Not only was she was cute, not only had she appeared on Valentine’s day, but a hand made cake?!
The boys began to eat big mouthfuls with a ‘Thank you!’ right there on the spot. I also tried a mouthful. Flavourless. No, it had been made very well but I couldn’t taste it from the shock. My head was busy coping with the failure of my plan. Wh-wh-what should I do? If I gave out my chocolate now it would surely get compared. My poor chocolate which I had only melted and reformed and this delicious, veteran bakery-like cake. I had lost. A complete failure. Maybe I should just take it all home and throw it away…
As I was about to do this my target finished up with a ‘Thanks!’ and left the class room. And then.
“Maaya, is that chocolate by any chance? Did you make it?”
Said my friend, looking in the bag I was holding.
“Er….well, yes…”
“You should have said so earlier! Hey! Maaya’s brought home made chocolate too!” and with this, which although it was helped was an annoyance, stopped my target from leaving. I went outside nervously outside, now unable to withdraw. I ending up giving him his chocolate by the bike shed.
However. Here lay another catastrophe.
The label that I had carefully prepared so as to be able to tell which one was the ‘real thing’ had somehow come off! I didn’t know which one was the real chocolate!! With a pale face I said “Just wait a minute!”, holding each bag up to the light one by one I tried to see the contents. I had no idea…it’s so dark I couldn’t tell. I say this but of course you can’t see the contents by holding a bag up to a street lamp.
Ummm, ummm, I probably looked pretty fishy like that, holding each bag up to the light over and over again. After making him wait for so long I gave him the real chocolate on a hunch ‘I think it’s this one’. Whether that was truly the right one or not will remain a mystery forever. When I think that the hinting message card saying ‘It’s not ‘giri’!’ probably got given to someone else, even now it makes me curl up.
“Memories of the Sunset’s Colours.”
In the end, it was a first love with true feelings left unsaid.
His seat was always right in front of me. During class sometimes he would turn round to look at my notes or something like that and I would be insanely happy, heart beating wildly. Even though we were paying expensive tuition fees my grades didn’t improve at all, I spent my days concentrating on staring at his back wishing: turn around, turn around.
It was very ordinary and quite modest, but that was definitely my first love. I thought that all the time we spent together, I want to remember every bit of it without leaving anything out; his voice, his height, his way of writing the characters on his notes. Now, like watered down paints they are indistinct, only pale colours that have become more and more mixed up.
I’m still good friends and talk regularly with that girl Maki who I had appointed my love rival. I lost to that cake on that day – I haven’t told her this even now because it still smarts.
For some reason the scenes appear especially vivid in the memories of the days when I loved him.
Following his back with my eyes from the top of a hill, watching as he rode his bicycle home at sunset. His expression as he turned back that one time when he reached the bottom of the hill, one that couldn’t be seen clearly in the backlight of the sunset, but how I knew with certainty that he would be smiling at me. It is a memory that makes my heart warm painfully from longing. I can’t remember when memory occurred, but out of all of them surprisingly this is the memory which is most vivid, striking for its unfading beauty.
Sometimes when I go through my memories, I remember the feeling, a mix of respect and longing, how I felt for him and begin to feel like I’m searching for him even now. However, now that I am an adult, I know that this is only an illusion. It is not his existence that makes my chest tighten now, but my own, myself at 14 who was in that desperate one-sided love. The ‘me’ of those days is pretty cute.
If, someday, we run into each other somewhere there is one thing I want to ask him. Was the Valentine chocolate that I gave him that day really the real ‘hon’ chocolate or not!!
Note: in Japan on Valentine’s Day girls (not the boys) give out ‘giri-choco’ and ‘hon-choco’. ‘Giri’ means duty and you usually give it to everyone equally e.g. friends, classmates, co-workers etc. to be friendly. No special feelings. ‘Honmei-choco’ comes from 本命チョコ ‘honmei’ (real feelings) - thanks Frecklegirl. Bwahaha. So, as you might imagine, it’s special and goes to the one you like for real. Because I couldn’t think of a way to put this into English, I’ve left it as ‘giri-choco’ and put this note here. Bwahahah.
Note 2: White Day is March 14th when the boys return the favour by giving something back to the girls they received something from a month earlier.
“My First Love”
From middle school to around the second year of high school there was a boy I had a crush on. We went to different schools but we were really good friends and I really looked up to him because he was good at both studying and sports. Even though I liked him for five years there was only one time when I gave him chocolates for Valentine’s Day. My second year of middle school.
When I was in middle school I pretty much stopped watching television, I got all my information about the outside world from the radio. Around this time I made a small radio in my technology class and I used it all the time. It was around then that I began to favour Western music more as well. On the day of this Valentine memory it was this small radio that I had in the kitchen with me while I made chocolate. I say ‘making’ but it was only melting down and then hardening which anybody could have done but to me at the time it a massive operation. Even I was surprised that I had gone into the kitchen of my own will.
The plan was this.
To give chocolate not just to him, but to all my other friends too. That way no one would know that he was the real target. Make it look like ‘giri-choco’ when in fact the contents were especially for him only! I hoped that no one would notice. It wasn’t that I was giving him chocolates in order to say ‘I like you’. It was for, what would one say, self-satisfaction.
Love songs flowed one after another from the radio and various people’s Valentine stories were read out which had been faxed in. While listening to this I thought about what kind of message I would write to him. Even if I didn’t want to go as far as to confess to him, I wanted to add a few words to it. So, what I ended up writing was: ‘Thank you for everything. By the way, this isn’t ‘giri’!’ When I think of it now I laugh a lot! I can only pray that he has now thrown this card away. However, at the time, I wonder what a 14 year old boy would have made of this card? He never said anything…
Anyway! I was able to give him the chocolate safely. Remembering it, it was pretty poorly made; the chocolate looked so awful that it makes me think that it maybe it would have been better not to have handed it over at all but right then I thought it was a big success. On White Day I received candy which looked like it could have been brought from any convenience store on the way. It seemed like a waste so I didn’t eat it but put it away for a long time. In my second year of high school I found it again when I moved house and threw it away.
After we graduated middle school we were able to meet less and less and now I don’t even know his address. But in the winter of my first year of high school we met by coincidence on the train. Even though we had been such good friends, even though it had been so long since we’d last met, I got off the train without even greeting him properly. I regretted that for a long time but, it’s strange, as time has passed, I’ve found that I’ve begun to think fondly of myself back then. This chance meeting on the train became material of a song I wrote for my first album ‘Grapefruit’.
When I remember him, it always brings that small radio to mind. For whatever reason, it was lost somewhere. It’s strange that it got lost even though I left it in my house but I cannot find it. For me, a radio is an irreplaceable part of my life. That small hand-made radio was the reason that I fell in love with radio. Even if I never find it again, it is a precious treasure, a symbol of my first true memory of love and music.
What kind of life is he leading now? Has he given up basket ball? Even if there is someone I care about more now, whenever Valentine’s Day comes around, I always remember him.
“Valentine’s Day ~the whole story~”
Actually, one part of the Valentine’s story was different to what actually happened. I wrote that, “I was able to give him the chocolate safely”. In truth it was anything but safely.
On the day I clumsily put the wrapped chocolate into paper bags before heading off to cram school with him. From the outside all of them looked the same but the real thing had a label attached to make it stand out. How should I give it to him? Puffing out white gasps while peddling my bicycle, I was wrapped in the red scarf that I loved most back then.
Upon opening the door to the classroom, there was a girl I had never seen before. Long hair, pink sweater, a pleated skirt, she gave an impression of being somehow high class. The teacher introduced her to everyone, ‘Maki will be in our class from now on’.
Something felt wrong. I didn’t like the fact someone had joined our class. On top of that she was cute. I was worried. My rivals had increased by one. I was worried. She looks clever too. Worried, worried, worried…
Then the main event of the day.
“Let’s end class here.” With the teacher’s words the battle plan was put into operation. I plucked up my courage and began to call out “Um…”, at that moment:
“Um, I’ve brought some chocolate cake that I made with me. It’s Valentine’s Day after all ♥” said Maki.
Crashing and clattering. This was the sound of all the simulations that my head had produced for today of this moment and my carefully planned Valentine’s Day operation being obliterated. Ca-, cake? Not only was she was cute, not only had she appeared on Valentine’s day, but a hand made cake?!
The boys began to eat big mouthfuls with a ‘Thank you!’ right there on the spot. I also tried a mouthful. Flavourless. No, it had been made very well but I couldn’t taste it from the shock. My head was busy coping with the failure of my plan. Wh-wh-what should I do? If I gave out my chocolate now it would surely get compared. My poor chocolate which I had only melted and reformed and this delicious, veteran bakery-like cake. I had lost. A complete failure. Maybe I should just take it all home and throw it away…
As I was about to do this my target finished up with a ‘Thanks!’ and left the class room. And then.
“Maaya, is that chocolate by any chance? Did you make it?”
Said my friend, looking in the bag I was holding.
“Er….well, yes…”
“You should have said so earlier! Hey! Maaya’s brought home made chocolate too!” and with this, which although it was helped was an annoyance, stopped my target from leaving. I went outside nervously outside, now unable to withdraw. I ending up giving him his chocolate by the bike shed.
However. Here lay another catastrophe.
The label that I had carefully prepared so as to be able to tell which one was the ‘real thing’ had somehow come off! I didn’t know which one was the real chocolate!! With a pale face I said “Just wait a minute!”, holding each bag up to the light one by one I tried to see the contents. I had no idea…it’s so dark I couldn’t tell. I say this but of course you can’t see the contents by holding a bag up to a street lamp.
Ummm, ummm, I probably looked pretty fishy like that, holding each bag up to the light over and over again. After making him wait for so long I gave him the real chocolate on a hunch ‘I think it’s this one’. Whether that was truly the right one or not will remain a mystery forever. When I think that the hinting message card saying ‘It’s not ‘giri’!’ probably got given to someone else, even now it makes me curl up.
“Memories of the Sunset’s Colours.”
In the end, it was a first love with true feelings left unsaid.
His seat was always right in front of me. During class sometimes he would turn round to look at my notes or something like that and I would be insanely happy, heart beating wildly. Even though we were paying expensive tuition fees my grades didn’t improve at all, I spent my days concentrating on staring at his back wishing: turn around, turn around.
It was very ordinary and quite modest, but that was definitely my first love. I thought that all the time we spent together, I want to remember every bit of it without leaving anything out; his voice, his height, his way of writing the characters on his notes. Now, like watered down paints they are indistinct, only pale colours that have become more and more mixed up.
I’m still good friends and talk regularly with that girl Maki who I had appointed my love rival. I lost to that cake on that day – I haven’t told her this even now because it still smarts.
For some reason the scenes appear especially vivid in the memories of the days when I loved him.
Following his back with my eyes from the top of a hill, watching as he rode his bicycle home at sunset. His expression as he turned back that one time when he reached the bottom of the hill, one that couldn’t be seen clearly in the backlight of the sunset, but how I knew with certainty that he would be smiling at me. It is a memory that makes my heart warm painfully from longing. I can’t remember when memory occurred, but out of all of them surprisingly this is the memory which is most vivid, striking for its unfading beauty.
Sometimes when I go through my memories, I remember the feeling, a mix of respect and longing, how I felt for him and begin to feel like I’m searching for him even now. However, now that I am an adult, I know that this is only an illusion. It is not his existence that makes my chest tighten now, but my own, myself at 14 who was in that desperate one-sided love. The ‘me’ of those days is pretty cute.
If, someday, we run into each other somewhere there is one thing I want to ask him. Was the Valentine chocolate that I gave him that day really the real ‘hon’ chocolate or not!!
Monday, 12 October 2009
I.D Essay Book - A Thrilling Weakness! A Life of Lost Property
In Japan currently and got my hands on Maaya's essay book/photo book 'I.D' when I went to her concert in Osaka. It's really good. I had no idea she wrote such interesting essays. Her I.D entries are one thing (some of them are in the book) but she's just genuinely good at writing. The essays are all really interesting. I'll try to translate them as I can but some are pretty long. Anyway, here's one from the book for you:
“A Thrilling Weakness! A Life of Lost Property”
If I were to describe the amount of things I have lost it would be extraordinary. From childhood right up until the present, I have lost something somewhere everyday. Every time it happens it is at the time a bitter experience and very regretful but why can’t I remedy this habit.
It was completely normal to lose textbooks and homework. Forgetting my gym kit on the day of the school sports festival, forgetting my camera on class trips, the loss of the remote control to a stereo I just bought (I still haven’t found it): this power is displayed upon the moment of ‘Oh, it was here!’.
Even since becoming an adult, after many incidents of forgetting things when going home, finally the staff began to make sure that when it was time to go that ‘Have you forgotten anything?’ How shameful. Once after I had appeared on a TV talk show I went home with the pin microphone still attached to me.
After living this life where I have just about forgotten more or less everything, my nerves have thickened to the point where it doesn’t bother me anymore. When I became an adult I learnt the art of being able to get over losing things by buying them again as soon as I lost them, the power of money. Although I have somehow avoided any huge disasters up until now, there have been many instances of forgetting things that couldn’t be made better with money.
One thing was something that happened when I was a university student.
I was tired from work being particularly busy and being in the middle of my midterm exams. Unexpectedly receiving a day off from all this I went out to a department store. It was right in the middle of the winter sale season. Get rid of stress by buying lots of things! I shopped until my legs were stiff. Then, when I was tired I went into a café and drank tea by myself. As I was doing this a friend rang me.
“Maaya, what are you doing?!” this seemed very serious.
“Huh? Right now? Shopping.”
“Today’s our Chai exam, stupid!”
I felt myself going pale. Hmm, now that you say that…it feels a bit like there was something like that today…
By the way, the ‘Chai’ exam she was talking about was the Chinese language module that I was taking. It was compulsory. If I failed ‘Chai’ it would be really bad. And if I didn’t turn up for the test my overall grade would drop considerably. On top of that the teacher in charge was pretty scary and I wasn’t that good at it anyway…
Without saying more than that I rushed home and phoned my teacher. I don’t remember the exact excuse I gave to her but probably that I was so sick that I couldn’t stand to leave the house even one step, I hadn’t even gotten to the phone before I had fallen over etc. I think it was something like that. A blatant lie but there was nothing for it. I knew it was pretty obvious that she’d seen through it but I couldn’t take it back after I’d said it. There was no way in hell that she’d be willing to let it go if I’d just said ‘I just forgot’.
Although she made a face about it, I somehow was given a chance to retake the test. However, she’d only recognise more than a 50% score on the make up test so I was in hot water if I didn’t get a near perfect mark. This was probably the most I ever studied in all my 4 years at university.
I also often forget people’s names. At least once a day.
For some reason, whenever I forget someone’s name I have a habit of thinking ‘I’m sure it was Yoshida-san.’ It doesn’t matter who they are, it will come out as ‘Yoshida-san’. Of course, it will always be that they actually have a completely different name.
Once this happened. At work one of my fellow actors greeted me with an ‘It’s nice to meet you’ and I replied with ‘What are you talking about, we’ve met before!’. The person responded with the negative ‘No, this is the first time…’. However many times I said that we’d met before the other person replied ‘we definitely have not’. In the end my dogged persistence was eventually met with a doubtful look.
Months after I had thought “But I was sure…” I was flipping idly through a magazine when I saw a picture of that person on one of the pages. That was when it finally came to me that she was an advertising model that often appeared in magazines. I had one-sidedly decided that I knew her but we hadn’t ever met…I was really embarrassed after that.
Within all this, the Maaya Sakamoto Lost Item Episode which is the biggest mistake I ever made in history…I can’t say it. It makes me feel faint, come out in a cold sweat and all the hair on my body stand on end, to the point where I can’t tell anyone about the most frightful mistake of my life. ‘Ahh, that time was awful…’.
I’ll save that for another time.
“A Thrilling Weakness! A Life of Lost Property”
If I were to describe the amount of things I have lost it would be extraordinary. From childhood right up until the present, I have lost something somewhere everyday. Every time it happens it is at the time a bitter experience and very regretful but why can’t I remedy this habit.
It was completely normal to lose textbooks and homework. Forgetting my gym kit on the day of the school sports festival, forgetting my camera on class trips, the loss of the remote control to a stereo I just bought (I still haven’t found it): this power is displayed upon the moment of ‘Oh, it was here!’.
Even since becoming an adult, after many incidents of forgetting things when going home, finally the staff began to make sure that when it was time to go that ‘Have you forgotten anything?’ How shameful. Once after I had appeared on a TV talk show I went home with the pin microphone still attached to me.
After living this life where I have just about forgotten more or less everything, my nerves have thickened to the point where it doesn’t bother me anymore. When I became an adult I learnt the art of being able to get over losing things by buying them again as soon as I lost them, the power of money. Although I have somehow avoided any huge disasters up until now, there have been many instances of forgetting things that couldn’t be made better with money.
One thing was something that happened when I was a university student.
I was tired from work being particularly busy and being in the middle of my midterm exams. Unexpectedly receiving a day off from all this I went out to a department store. It was right in the middle of the winter sale season. Get rid of stress by buying lots of things! I shopped until my legs were stiff. Then, when I was tired I went into a café and drank tea by myself. As I was doing this a friend rang me.
“Maaya, what are you doing?!” this seemed very serious.
“Huh? Right now? Shopping.”
“Today’s our Chai exam, stupid!”
I felt myself going pale. Hmm, now that you say that…it feels a bit like there was something like that today…
By the way, the ‘Chai’ exam she was talking about was the Chinese language module that I was taking. It was compulsory. If I failed ‘Chai’ it would be really bad. And if I didn’t turn up for the test my overall grade would drop considerably. On top of that the teacher in charge was pretty scary and I wasn’t that good at it anyway…
Without saying more than that I rushed home and phoned my teacher. I don’t remember the exact excuse I gave to her but probably that I was so sick that I couldn’t stand to leave the house even one step, I hadn’t even gotten to the phone before I had fallen over etc. I think it was something like that. A blatant lie but there was nothing for it. I knew it was pretty obvious that she’d seen through it but I couldn’t take it back after I’d said it. There was no way in hell that she’d be willing to let it go if I’d just said ‘I just forgot’.
Although she made a face about it, I somehow was given a chance to retake the test. However, she’d only recognise more than a 50% score on the make up test so I was in hot water if I didn’t get a near perfect mark. This was probably the most I ever studied in all my 4 years at university.
I also often forget people’s names. At least once a day.
For some reason, whenever I forget someone’s name I have a habit of thinking ‘I’m sure it was Yoshida-san.’ It doesn’t matter who they are, it will come out as ‘Yoshida-san’. Of course, it will always be that they actually have a completely different name.
Once this happened. At work one of my fellow actors greeted me with an ‘It’s nice to meet you’ and I replied with ‘What are you talking about, we’ve met before!’. The person responded with the negative ‘No, this is the first time…’. However many times I said that we’d met before the other person replied ‘we definitely have not’. In the end my dogged persistence was eventually met with a doubtful look.
Months after I had thought “But I was sure…” I was flipping idly through a magazine when I saw a picture of that person on one of the pages. That was when it finally came to me that she was an advertising model that often appeared in magazines. I had one-sidedly decided that I knew her but we hadn’t ever met…I was really embarrassed after that.
Within all this, the Maaya Sakamoto Lost Item Episode which is the biggest mistake I ever made in history…I can’t say it. It makes me feel faint, come out in a cold sweat and all the hair on my body stand on end, to the point where I can’t tell anyone about the most frightful mistake of my life. ‘Ahh, that time was awful…’.
I’ll save that for another time.
Wednesday, 9 September 2009
Kazeyomi Tour 2009 MC 6.5 a.k.a after Universe
Yes, I had indeed missed an MC out. As one or two other Maaya fans kindly noted for me a long time ago...yes, it took me this long to get down to watching the DVD again. And for being all of 5 seconds long it had a tricky part! Thus, I have had a second opinion/help from Frecklegirl. Joint effort! And thus, the entire DVD is now translated (apart from the songs, which are, of course, on Frecklegirl's site).
Note: where I've put 'there are other's who've gotta come back from somewhere', in Japanese Maaya actually says: 'there are also people far away'. But I thought I could make it sound more natural than that ^^;; but take it literally or take it paraphrased, it's up to you. The Japanese transcription of that line was all Frecklegirl. I just couldn't hear it!
Kazeyomi Tour 2009 MC 6.5 a.k.a after Universe
Translation by me and Frecklegirl
Thank you very much! (waves) Hey band, why don't we all come to the front together...? I forgot what we were meant to be doing. Thank you very much...ah, there are others who've gotta come back from somewhere...please talk amongst yourselves for a second (audience laughs as other band members run on) No one knew anything. String people too! I’m so sorry. Sorry. I forgot everything when the blue lights came on. (bow)
(waving, bowing, audience applause as they leave the stage)
Note: where I've put 'there are other's who've gotta come back from somewhere', in Japanese Maaya actually says: 'there are also people far away'. But I thought I could make it sound more natural than that ^^;; but take it literally or take it paraphrased, it's up to you. The Japanese transcription of that line was all Frecklegirl. I just couldn't hear it!
Kazeyomi Tour 2009 MC 6.5 a.k.a after Universe
Translation by me and Frecklegirl
Thank you very much! (waves) Hey band, why don't we all come to the front together...? I forgot what we were meant to be doing. Thank you very much...ah, there are others who've gotta come back from somewhere...please talk amongst yourselves for a second (audience laughs as other band members run on) No one knew anything. String people too! I’m so sorry. Sorry. I forgot everything when the blue lights came on. (bow)
(waving, bowing, audience applause as they leave the stage)
Monday, 3 August 2009
I.D Monthly Message August 2009
Here's the new little message from Maaya for August 2009 ^^V
I.D Monthly Message August 2009
It's summer!!!!
It's hot!!
End soon, summer!!
I'm pretty bad at summer but everyone have fun!
Maaya
I.D Monthly Message August 2009
It's summer!!!!
It's hot!!
End soon, summer!!
I'm pretty bad at summer but everyone have fun!
Maaya
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