Pretty things or the absence thereof...

So, reading Memoirs Of A Geisha. Loving it. Really, I don’t think there is a style of fiction that I enjoy more than a well-written first person *story*. I love the chance to let someone’s writing pull me into the eyes of a character, a person who (while not-in-existance) is so real to them that they can write as their character. Now, the fact that this book was actually based on a real person’s account of their own life just makes it better. So does the cultural gap I get to experience looking through Chiyo/Sayuri’s eyes, as the author imagined them to be.

My love of this style of novel I suspect comes from the fact that getting a chance to know –what people actually think- is so rare. Sure, I get to watch how they behave, and what they do. And really, I could analyze down what is baser human instinct, what is likely conditioning, what behaviour is fear-based and what isn’t, etc… But really – I’ve been doing that for years, and rarely is watching that anything but depressing. Knowing what people *think* allows me to see the patterns which might pull them up out of unfortunate circumstances, even if those thoughts are horrendously morbid, angry, or whatever. Yes, I’m a mental voyeur – I shamelessly and cheerfully admit it.

I’ve spent the last two days primarily without music. This is a very strange thing for me, as I rarely have silence around anymore. This isn’t intentional – I like silence. But I’ve caught myself in the past months being really flaky in my musical tastes. I realized recently that this is probably largely habit – I often have two different songs/styles/etc…playing in different areas of the house at the same time if I’m moving back and forth while working on something. It drains my attention span. Which, if I’m trying to avoid thinking or making decisions, is a fabulous plan.

My attempt to wean myself of music that will distract is going surprisingly well. My computer is assisting me, by advising me that it hates me once again, and renewing my resolve to dissect it again, or save enough to buy a new one.

Signing off for the night.