#92 56 years old, 'The day I went to see a play and realized this wasn't where I belonged'
I used a day of paid leave for golf yesterday, and
I took the afternoon off today.
Honestly, it's unbelievable.
But I really wanted to go.
I started attending the theater school last January.
I heard that someone who was in my first lesson was going to be in this reading play,
and I thought, 'I absolutely have to see it.'
They are about ten years older than me,
and our values align very well.
In our first lesson, within less than three months, the only people who had memorized 'Uiro Uri' (a long Kabuki monologue) were
me and that person.
They worked at a large company and retired last year.
Now they go to Tokyo for shoots, and
they also passed an audition to appear in this reading play.
Meeting that person
might be the best thing about joining the theater school.
Maybe I've been able to keep going this long because of them.
The venue was a local cultural theater, and
before the show started, I ended up counting.
More than 10 people across, 15 rows deep.
I think there were about 150 people.
The show started at 3:30 PM on a weekday.
The people who came were mostly in their 40s, 50s, and 60s,
with a few in their 30s.
Seeing that,
'Oh, there are so many of us.'
People attending theater school,
so-called 'people who haven't made it.'
Looking at them, everyone is well-groomed.
But they haven't made it.
No, I've known for over a year that most of them have never appeared in anything at all.
The play was good.
I could tell everyone had practiced really hard, and
my friend was truly shining.
Bathed in the spotlight,
they were standing right there.
At this age, there is a place where you can shine.
It was wonderful.
I brought flowers that would suit my friend.
After the performance, they were standing and greeting the audience.
The bright pink flowers suited their shining figure perfectly.
That made me happy.
But after I finished watching it,
I realized it clearly.
"This is not where I belong."
People who want to stand on stage,
or who want to be in the spotlight,
and find their purpose in that—that place is surely right for them.
Age doesn't matter,
and even in your 50s or 60s, you can shine like that.
I think that's a wonderful thing.
But I am different.
Thankfully, when I was a child, I did ballet for nearly 10 years and performed in many recitals across the country,
and I also have experience with piano recitals.
I have already had enough experience
of being in the spotlight.
As for me now,
I work at a bank on weekdays,
and if things continue this way, I'll be there until I'm 65, or perhaps 70.
It took me over 10 years to become a full-time employee,
and while it's not my favorite job, I've raised two daughters with it, and as a single mother, I haven't been a burden to them.
I intend to see it through to the end.
On top of that,
"I want to build another pillar."
That was the reason I joined the theater company.
Not caregiving, security, or cleaning,
but if possible, something I could enjoy,
and something that could lead to even a little bit of income.
I joined because I wanted to explore that possibility.
But over the course of a year, I've gradually realized that I can't make money here.
And today,
I realized clearly that this is not where I belong.
Of course, this is not a denial.
The people shining on that stage were
truly wonderful.
My friend was also truly cool.
I was proud of her.
For her, having retired and started her own coaching business, the theater adds depth.
But that is exactly why I understood.
This is not where I belong.
Feeling the distance between us, I felt a little lonely, somehow.
But I clearly felt the difference.
I love watching plays.
I'm glad I went.
I truly think so.
If I hadn't gone, I still
wouldn't have realized this difference.
Realizing that we are different,
I think, is a step forward.
And today, I
signed a contract for a modeling job on CrowdWorks.
I don't know yet, but
at least I feel like I
understand the direction I'm walking in a little better.
Even just for that,
I think it was a day with enough meaning.