Goodness / Gracious

I believe in causality. And paying for the consequences of one's actions.

I know it's a bit odd, to begin thus. But bear with me:

In Hong Kong International Airport a few days ago, I witnessed a waitress engaging a Japanese couple and their infant son at one of the many tim sum places therein. She played with the child and spent a good deal of time carrying him, while his parents enjoyed their meal. Despite the language barrier, her behaviour and the child's expression told me that they were both enjoying each other's attention. The couple, for their part, were relieved that their son was in good hands, and genuinely impressed by, and appreciative of, the waitress' efforts.

About 15 minutes into the episode, the manager of the restuarant appeared. And like his staff, he too spent some time speaking to the parents. Indeed, he was able to reassure them that their child was in good hands, in their own language. When called away to another table of Japanese tourists, he happily described the dishes that they were considering, telling them what went into which, and how the food was prepared, all in fluent nihongo.

Here in the City, we've been taught from our childhood that efficiency equals productivity, and that time is not meant to be 'wasted'.

How would a local manager view the antics of the waitress above, I wondered. And how would he have reacted? While I cannot predict the details, I am certain that it would not have been the same as that in Hong Kong. Good service here means quick, efficient and with a minimum of fuss. Too bad if the customer enjoys being fussed over.

Good versus Gracious.

The latter shall never begin to raise its head here, unless the definition of the first is changed.

Shall I be around to see it?

Do I really care?

No. I am a product of 'good' upbringing after all.

: )

The Weak End

It's monday.

That's usually the words that prelude an excuse about how blue one is feeling. Normally, I'm not overly affected about the days of the work-week. I mean, some Fridays are just sh*te, while an occasional Monday can be golden.

Today, however, was unusual. The sky was overcast as I was driving to work, and the usual radio station that I tune into was rambling on and on about one of its presenter's wedding over the week end. Much too cheery and lovey-dovey for me, especially given the weather at the time, so I switched over to my ipod. As luck would have it, the first song that played was this one:

The silicon chip inside her head gets switched to overload
And nobody's gonna go to school today
She's going to make them stay at home
And daddy doesn't understand it
He always said she was good as gold
And he can see no reasons, 'cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to be shown?

Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
I want to shoot the whole day down

The telex machine is kept so clean and it types to a waiting world
And mother feels so shocked
Father's world is rocked
And their thoughts turn to their own little girl
Sweet 16 ain't that peachy keen
No, it ain't so neat to admit defeat
They can see no reasons 'cause there are no reasons
What reasons do you need

Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
I want to shoot the whole day down, down, down, shoot it all down

And all the playing has stopped in the playground now
She wants to play with the toys of war
And school's out early and soon we'll be learning
That the lesson today is how to die
And then the bullhorn crackles
And the captain cackles with the problems and the hows and whys
And he can see no reasons 'cause there are no reasons
What reason do you need to die, die?

Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
Tell me why? I don't like, I don't like, (Tell me why?) I don't like Mondays
Tell me why? I don't like, I don't like, (Tell me why?) I don't like Mondays
Tell me why? I don't like Mondays
I want to shoot the whole day down

Now the Boomtown Rats were really good, but the version that I had was the Tori Amos cover. You know, with her slightly creepy, nonchalantly depressive voice? Now that really brought me down.

My life outside the song didn't help either: work has been hectic of late. Those who know of my affiliations will understand; the broadsheets and the more volatile media has been proclaiming the recent changes of late. While that had consumed a good part of my time, more developments loom on the horizon, and I find myself at the oars, paddling furiously towards it. Oftimes, out of synch with the rest of those chained to the deck. Oh well....


Back on the home front, the missus is down with a cough and a sore throat. Which means that she has isolated herself from the daughter, leaving me to play the single father again. Not that I mind, mind. I have grown accustomed to such instances. However, I have myself, barely recovered from an upset stomach - with the attendant bells and whistles, as it were. Running on a less than full battery over the weekend with a hyper child is not the most restful of experiences, truly. Running on a guggling tummy is even worse. Needless to say, the title of this blog describes what else I had to contend with...


Fortunately, the daughter seemed to realize that neither of her parents were in a state to match her enthusiasm, and entertained herself for the most part. My mother's participation in the fun and games on Saturday also eased matters somewhat. Whew!

As for the music, the next song was also a Tori Amos cover of a Depache Mode favourite (I must have been in a select by artist sequence) - Enjoy the Silence.

No Holidays

Given the situation at the moment, planning for a holiday overseas happens to be an extremely vexing matter. We had intended to visit the Azure Mountains in the Land of the Southern Cross originally, and were making preparations to do so sometime next month. The recent outbreak of disease, which appears to have spread through most of the world, has prevented us from making concrete plans.

Normally, the missus would be most put out by the circumstances. She is fond of travel and she is doubly eager to show our daughter the World. Given the way that our offspring had embraced her vacation last year, I was also loathed to deny her. However, there was naught to be done, and the wife appeared to be be resigned to this disappointing development. With more grace that I had expected, truth be told.

I have, however, begun enquiries as to a short rest in one of our many beach-side inns as a substitute. While it does not offer as many opportunities as a trip overseas, there might be sufficient excitement and distraction to keep both my wife and my daughter entertained.

We shall see how it goes.

Single Fatherhood 2

It has been nigh a year since my last post, I realized, somewhat aghast. Yet, despite all the time that has passed, I find myself at exactly where I had left off. Sigh.

The missus is off again; this time it is to Japan, on an assignment that she detests. The reason for her dislike of the place, according to her, is that there is too much pettiness amongst the people and a distinct lack of warm food for lunch. Those who have met my wife will agree with me when I speculate that it is the latter that appears more frequently in her complaints.

As for me, her absence has caused my health to suffer somewhat. I am short of sleep (as usual) and short of time (in particular). My daughter too, has begun to exhibit signs of separation anxiety. She has, on occasion, burst into tears for no apparent reason, especially when I drop her off at school. Needless to say, I have had to explain to her teachers that her mother is off somewhere, and that the daughter has latched onto me as a substitute. Worst of all was having to make apologetic sounds as the teachers (women, one and all) nodded in understanding and made sympathetic noises. Sigh.

To distract the daughter from her situation, I have implemented a two-pronged approach:

First, I have begun to bring her to her school a little earlier than she is accustomed to. This gives her opportunity to meet her friends at the entrance and so begin socialising (playing and generally making a nuisance of themselves) before classes start. Sufficient to stop her from dwelling on the goodbyes later on.

Second, there are places that she has visited with me and with me alone. Since her mother was never around when we visited the Botanic Gardens and such, these spots are, in her head, exclusive Father-and-Daughter bonding locales. Revisiting them -just the two of us- has reinforced that, I hope. This should prevent her from the constant reminder that she is one parent short. Thus far, it has been working.

Well, only two more weeks to go. Wish me luck!