I have never danced the tango. And I have never been on a space walk. Yet somehow, my life at the moment feels like a strange amalgamation of both. A back and forth I can’t seem to stop and a certain lack of gravity. The pace slows down and speeds back up, carrying me away to the beat of a melody I can’t even hear. Is it playing at all? Or am I simply floating in space to the deafening sound of silence?
I want to stop the metaphor. I want to be honest and straightforward but this isn’t a diary. This is a public space where emotions have only half the right to exist. The other half belongs to me and I don’t seem to be able to part with it just yet.
There is a quote I will always remember. It comes from Memoirs Of A Geisha, a book that still resonates with me, years after my first read:
I long ago developed a very practiced smile, which I call my “Noh smile” because it resembles a Noh mask whose features are frozen. Its advantage is that men can interpret it however they want; you can imagine how often I’ve relied on it.”
I have a tendency to keep my emotions bottled up (or so I’ve been told) and I’m sure this is no alien feeling for a wannabe writer. I assume we’ve all developed our own Noh smile and used it at least once in our life, whether it be while disagreeing with someone politely, accepting an insult with dignity or playing pretend with our feelings so the others can’t see past the “frozen” features.
The truth is, the Noh smile is a double-edged sword but I am not here to share motivational
crap thoughts. I won’t tell you how dangerous wearing the mask is and I won’t scold you for holding it all in because at the end of the day, that would be hypocritical of me.
What I will tell you is that today, I’ve got my mask on. Maybe it’s a self-preservation thing. Or maybe I should be channelling my emotions into my book. Yes, that would be a productive use of my time. Blame it on me if one of my characters bursts into tears with no warning.