channeling the inner geisha

Arthur Golden's Memoirs of a Geisha is once again on my bedside, for night reading.  There's a part where the young Chiyo watches the beautiful geisha Hatsumomo dress for the day.  Hatsumomo was one of the most extraordinary geisha in Gion.

Chiyo says:

Because, you see, when a geisha wakes up in the morning she is just like any other woman. Her face may be greasy from sleep, and her breath unpleasant. It may be true that she wears a startling hairstyle even as she struggles to open her eyes; but in every other respect she’s a woman like any other, and not a geisha at all. Only when she sits before her mirror to apply her makeup with care does she become a geisha. And I don’t mean that this is when she begins to look like one. This is when she begins to think like one too.

  And I was thinking, Ooh, how wonderful it must be to wake up an ordinary woman, and prepare yourself for the day like a geisha.  You have approximately two hours to be sad, grumpy, problematic, ugly, thoroughly human.  But by the time you step out of the house, you are a geisha: beautiful, powerful, and in control of her world.

So, to test this theory, I set the alarm early and got up half an hour later.  I was already grumpy.  I dawdled over coffee and worried about the things that mothers usually worry about: bills, kids, running out of potatoes, and oh, let's not forget the mushroom that grew out of the kitchen wall as a result of the two-week monsoon rains.  Problematic, check.

It has slipped my mind that it's a holiday for the rest of the country, while I have work.  Which means I have to commute.  And in the jeep ride from Bacoor to Baclaran, my hair went crazy.  Ugly?  You bet.  I am not used to commuting.  I got to the MRT station and promptly queued at the wrong window; it was for senior citizens.  Shit.  By this time my inner geisha is rolling on the floor, laughing.

The train ride to the office took 15 minutes, and I congratulated myself with another cup of coffee.  Since it was still early, I peeked in Facebook for updates.  Secretary Robredo, who disappeared in a plane crash off the sea in Masbate last Saturday, has been found.  He was still in the plane, 180 feet down.  Now I'm grieving for a good politician now dead.  Then I started attacking the 55 emails in my inbox.  There is a panel interview at eleven, and a meeting at three.  I have to call Nissan to find out if the van, brought in for repairs a week ago, is ready for release.  I have to set a reminder on my phone to check if my daughter's Scouting uniform is ready.  I have to buy breakfast cereal and milk on my lunch break.  I have to dampen my curls with a little water to see if they will behave.  I am already worrying about the jeep ride home at the end of the day.  Good thing I'm wearing three-inch heels, not five.  Human.  Thoroughly human.  The geisha is choking on laughter and I'd like to wring her neck.

Then the geisha sits up, smoothens her hair, and raises her perfect eyebrows.  Listen, she says, you've got it wrong.  Even with hair like a bird's nest, you are lovely.  Of course it matters if you look good, but it's more important to feel good about who you are.  And all those things that make you human?  To quote One Direction: that's what makes you beautiful.  At the end of the day, everything on your to-do list will be done, delegated to the husband, put off for another day, settled.  A woman is powerful that way.

Relax.  Take a deep breath.  You are in control of your own little world.  Put on some bright red lipstick and face your day with a smile and your claws out.

Wait.  When did the geisha become a cat?!