Thanks everyone for reading and asking for more! ;)

I won't be posting this weeked; I feel like I need some time to catch my breath. Also, let's give folks who have been gone this week a chance to catch up, ok?

Enjoy! w

PS: If anyone has any idea what Michael could do in Tsukuba, feel free to post it.

JANUARY

(1)

Something changed when the New Year began.

I couldn't pinpoint it, but I started perceiving the world in a new light. As gloomy as it had seemed when arriving to Tsukuba, it now appeared challenging - but in a good way. Now I understood my life, the situation I was in as an opportunity to push myself even harder, achieve even more, make that final leap to prove myself. It was now or never, I knew I could never have a shot like this. I had given it all I had when I invented the prototype – I doubted I had another similar achievement in me. Why would I, really, cardio device I was making was as groundbreaking as a single operating device could be. If this wouldn't make a somebody in world's eyes, nothing ever could. Of course, just coming to Tsukuba, getting my own lab and my own team was a huge, huge accomplishment, but it wasn't enough. The world doesn't care about those who almost make it. All it wants to know about are victories.

I had to finish the robotic arm to show the world it had been wrong about me all along. Succeeding would give me a chance to get Mia back like nothing ever could.

And I wanted it right there, right then. I wanted to lock myself into the laboratory, and work day and night until the moment I could lift my hands and say done. I wanted to get on the plane, fly back to New York, skip the ceremonies, skip the interviews, ignore the world's big eyes staring, admiring, accepting – I didn't want any recognition, I didn't want the money. All I wanted was Mia. The thought of having her back in my arms, locking her into my embrace and never, ever letting go, occupied my mind, it was all I could think about. I subjugated everything for this goal, this obsession of mine. If I could do something tomorrow, I tried to have it done by today's evening. I didn't want to waste a single hour, I didn't want to sacrifice a single minute I could otherwise spend with Mia.

But of course I couldn't work all day and night. Clearly I needed a break every once in a while. I couldn't simplify my life to only working, sleeping and eating.

The time I wasn't in the lab I refused to spend in the apartment, catching up on some sleep or watching movies. These were all things I could easily do in New York. If I was in Tsukuba, at least I could use the time to experience the city.

I went to every museum, every gallery I could find. When there was nothing else to see, I started attending lectures. I listened to everything – from astronomy to history, art, culture, social sciences. I always liked learning. I knew that if cardio arm indeed takes off, I wouldn't have time to go to school. I would have my own company to run, my own product to sell. And to use the little time I had left, I went to classes as diverse as I could find them. If I liked what I was hearing, I went back or read more on the internet or looked up books in the library.

I wasn't only looking at my time in Tsukuba as an opportunity to make my dream future a reality. Now it was also a time for me to grow as a person, to learn as much as I could. As a prince consort, who knew what obscure knowledge could come in handy one day. Surely one day there would be a guest interested in Greek mythology. Some other time, there might be an expert on Middle Ages. Someone might like Renaissance or chemistry. I wanted to talk to as many of them as I could.

Due to working as much as I could, attending classes and going to a gym as regularly as I could, I often returned to the apartment so tired I barely managed to take a shower before falling asleep. A few times I fell asleep in front of the laptop, one time I dozed off while making myself dinner. I couldn't write Mia as often as I would like, but those occasions when I poured myself an energy drink to stay up for another hour, I did make sure to write her a lot, about whatever subject we were discussing. If I didn't know much about it, I would google it, read about it until I felt like my knowledge was sufficient.

It was tiring, very tiring, but the thought of returning home unprepared for the future with her was worse. When I felt like I was burning out, I slept for one additional hour, or skip going to the gym. Every day was a race to do more, and I finally felt like I was winning.

"Have you made any New Year's resolutions?" Midori asked me one day.

"No, why?"

She shrugged.

"Nothing, it's just that you seem happier. And that's good."

I grew closer to my team. We started as coworkers, but now we were friends. We had lunch together, sometimes we met after work as well. I tried to go out with them as often as I could, given classes, gym and an occasional call home. In late January, we somehow started talking about birthdays, and my team was outraged at my having a birthday weeks prior without telling anyone. I argued that it wasn't a big thing, but they insisted we still celebrated, though with a delay. The next morning, they had a cake delivered in the lab. It was in a shape the robotic arm would hopefully one day take. We took an hour off, celebrating, before returning back to work. We knew how to have fun and relax, but we could also be immensely focused on work when it was necessary

I had tried not to make a big deal out of my birthday. For me, it was just one of the days, another opportunity to get the work done. Mom of course sent me a package full of 'New York' things she thought I needed. Dad just signed the card while Lilly only wrote the initials of her name. We still weren't on the speaking terms. I guess it meant she still resented Mia and thought I was wrong for forgiving Mia. As much as I missed my baby sis, I had too much to do to worry about her. I knew she was – in a big part – only being stubborn. Lilly never liked admitting she was wrong, about anything, ever, no matter how silly the whole situation was. I guess that is the characteristic of Moscovitz siblings, they never, ever give up.

At one of the classes I attended, the one about the history of rock music, I met Henry. He was half-American half-Japanese, born and bred in Oregon. As the only Americans in class, we started talking. Super Bowl was coming up, and finding someone excited about it brought the feeling of home back. I never was a fan of organized, team sports, but the Super Bowl fever, the whole atmosphere, always got to me. We cheered for the opposite teams, so we placed bets as to who was going to win.

Besides calling America our home, we also discovered we had something else in common. When I told him I had had a band in high school, his face lit up and he went on to say he was still setting up a band here in Tsukuba, and still needed someone on the leading guitar.

"It's not serious or anything," he said, "just something to do for fun in the afternoons. A few guys jamming out to some good old rock every now and then."

I said I'd think about it, trying not to get his hopes up too much. I already barely had time to breathe, with the hectic schedule I had set up for myself. In fact, not being able to go back to the lecture and see Henry I somewhat forgot about the plans. I didn't think of it until Midori gave me a few photographs taken at the New Year's Eve celebration. I remembered how good it felt, holding and playing the guitar again, even though it was just cheesy Christmas carols.

The very same evening I went to the bar when Henry had said he was working part time. He knew why I was there immediately.

"We'll be up there at eleven," he said, putting a beer in front of me. "On the house, mate."

"Up where?" I was puzzled.

He pointed to a change in the back of the bar.

"But," I protested, "I haven't played anything in years."

"Don't worry, we all suck," he waived with his hand.

"What are you playing?" I felt the shivers just thinking about performing on a stage again.

"Good old rock," he said and handed me a hand-written set list. Most of them I had been playing way back when I had taken up playing the guitar.

I think he read for my face that I was in. He grinned and pointed to a table, saying I should go meet my band members.

Johan was an exchange student from Sweden. He played drums and was his high school's marching band champion, whatever he meant by that. His English was bad and his Japanese was even poorer, but he had a charm that charmed every lady within a ten feet radius. Tim was from New Zealand and played keyboards. He seemed high to me, and the way he was slowly moving around made me doubt he could conquer fast rock music. Akira told me in very rapid Japanese that his father was a very wealthy banker and he demanded his so to follow family footsteps. Instead, Akira found his calling in music, and after his father kicked him out, he made his living as a street musician. Apparently Henry found him while he was playing Beethoven on a bunch of trash cans, and super impressed immediately offered his a spot in his band. Akira hoped performing live with a band would gain him more recognition and hopefully a record deal. This made me think of how rusty my guitar playing skills were, and I felt bad for the musical hopeful. With me in the band he surely wouldn't impress any talent seekers.

But then I remembered Skinner Box playing at our Senior Prom. We had sounded decent, very decent. I was no Kurt Cobain, but I didn't suck, either. And so what if I hadn't truly played the guitar for more than a year? I couldn't possibly have forgotten everything in the meantime.

I had always been confident – after all, I had been running a rather opinionated Crackhead in my high school. I always knew I could do a lot, I trusted in my abilities. But at the same time, I was also full of doubt, maybe especially after Mia and I had gotten together. Suddenly being a promising student at an Ivy League school suddenly wasn't good enough. My grades, my music, my ezine, nobody judged me by that. I was judged by my name. It often felt no one truly cared about who I truly was, when in fact, I was pretty amazing, if I say so myself. People wanted more, something I could not give at my age and the place I was in at the time.

And so I had pushed myself to invent robotic arm and now I was on the verge of acceptance. Being awesome in not enough to get you to the point where I was currently on. You need not only brains, you need determination, incredible drive to be where I was at only twenty. I challenged the future and now I was in the lead. Considering my age, I was spectacular. Renata had been right – first I needed to be proud of myself, cherish myself. I couldn't seek acclamation by others, if I wasn't who I wanted to be. Nobody can make me feel bad about myself, if I know I am good, good enough. Not Us Weekly reporters. And definitely not Dowager Princess of Genovia.

And, fuck, I was good enough.

We rocked that night on the stage. Johan forgot about the ladies in the front row, and with sweat in his forehead he was playing drums with an infectious intensity. Tim seemed to be as alive as it gets, whipping his hair around. The way Akira played his guitar, it sounded like poetry and looked like magic. With a stoic expression on his face he seemed to be in his own universe, with his fingers running up and down the strings intensely, yet looking completely calm and peaceful. Henry might not have the best voice, but he sang with passion, conviction that made you believe he was the next Freddie. He didn't worry about missing any notes, he made each his own. And I, I put all my anger, all my insecurities on display, I poured them into melodies, and it felt right at home, as if I hadn't taken a break from music while at Columbia. It was raw, it was real, it was liberating, empowering.

We didn't sound completely in tune, but we didn't mind. We played the music because we loved it, and it seemed the good energy transmitted to the audience. We got the standing ovation, ladies wanted our autographs all over them and they competed which one would first get a photo taken with each of us. We were treated as rock stars and each could choose which girl to go home with.

I sneaked out the back door, alone. I felt so inspired, so alive, I didn't want to waste any time. It was three in the morning, but I didn't go home. I went straight to the lab and continued working. There was not much I could do by myself, but it was better than nothing.

By the time my coworkers arrived, I still wasn't tired. When the work day ended, I chose not to go home, either. At midnight I went to one of the break rooms and slept there until morning. I didn't leave the lab for the next week, except to run home to get some more clothes and grab a lunch every noon.

When after a week I felt my energy fading, I met up with my new band again. This time we didn't have the show at the bar; instead, we were at Tim's, jamming out while sipping beer and playing poker. I had never played it before, so I lost quite a bit of money. It didn't matter. Fun and the joy of playing music again outplayed it.

And so January went by without me even realizing it.

To Be Continued.

Broughttoyouby:::winter.