Oh, Sayuri

"Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper."
- Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha

This week, while waiting to receive some books I ordered in the mail, I reread my all-time favourite book, Memoirs of a Geisha. I'm going to pause and say that the quote above is not actually my favourite from the book, because my favourite is too much of a spoiler for me to comfortably use. I used this quote instead because it is a wonderful example of Golden's writing style. At least once per page, there is a simile or metaphor that, to me, doesn't obviously fit with what it is describing, yet somehow it does bring to mind such an accurate image of what is happening that I am always surprised to think about it, even now as I read the book for what must be the sixth or seventh time.

My copy of the book is the one with the movie cover, where it is just an image of a blue-eyed geisha's face. It's actually why I bought the novel in the first place: the cover image was so striking that I knew I was going to buy it before I had read even the name of it, and if I'm not mistaken I skipped reading the synopsis until I was in the car on the way home. I bought it on a Saturday night and had it finished before bed on Sunday because I couldn't put it down. This time, as I finished it, I noticed that at some point over the last few years the front cover became slightly bent in a line that is directly beneath one of the woman's eyes, and it creates such a shadow that it looks like she has just cried one tear. Normally I would be very upset that my book was damaged, but somehow it makes me love my copy even more.

Apart from the writing style, I like the ending of this one. Few books can make me cry on more than one reading, but at the very end, when Sayuri is told the true reason she was able to become a geisha, I am always moved to tears.

Now I want to watch the movie, but I have an early morning tomorrow and then tomorrow night is Beast's birthday party. Which reminds me: I meant to make him a card when I got home tonight but I didn't. Ug. And also the earliest I could watch it is Sunday, but that would have me up very late on Sunday night... I may do it anyway.

One thought for the day that isn't related to the best book I've ever read: I haven't been working as hard on my correspondence science courses as I should have been. I am very seriously considering the idea that if I could complete every assignment before the date of next month's Mother Mother concerts, I could reward myself by dropping the cash to see them in Halifax on that Sunday night. It is probably unrealistic to expect that I could do all that work in just one month, but if I seriously promise myself the concert as a reward, it may get me to at least work harder than I have been. At the rate I'm going, I won't be able to write my exams before I leave for Katimavik, which would mean that I couldn't apply to the nursing program I want to take until the summer when I get back, and by that time it would most certainly be full. Although my bank accounts would certainly benefit from the consequential year off, I can't imagine I would be very happy. Certainly, I could take a few language courses (French and Latin for sure, maybe Spanish or another romantic language too). And, in the spring of 2013, my local Gilbert & Sullivan Society will be performing Legally Blonde: The Musical. I just learned tonight that they announced the rehearsals will actually begin in fall of 2012 for the performance. So I would theoretically be occupied throughout the non-school year with that show. However! I have absolutely no wish to push my vague life-goals-timeline-thingy back by yet another year. I want to be a mom while I'm still quite young, but I utterly refuse to do it while my life on paper is still "high school graduate, working fast food."

tl;dr : I'm not doing my homework and I might see Mother Mother twice next month if I give up all sleep and free time to finish the work. If I keep working at my current slow pace, I will be constantly angry at myself for a minimum sentence of one year.