I mentioned my daughter joining the ranks of the Doctor Who fandom before. Well, it has been more than a year and a new Doctor (with the requisite new Tardis, new companions, new bad-guys, etc) later, she's still as mad about the whole thing : )
Of course, it helped to have both parents Doctor mad as well.
Having said that, I must point out that it is nigh impossible to find stuff on the Time Lord here in Lyonesse. Go to any assistant in any major/independent video/book shop and ask for Doctor Who, and the answer invariably will be 'Doctor Who who?'. And that's just for the DVDs and books. Other merchandise are always absent.
Which is why this last trip to the Great Southern Land was so satisfying - Doctor Who toys!
Yes, there are now more than 10 sonic screwdrivers (different models with some repeats - both the missus and I wanted the functional screwdriver version) at home. Not to mention 3 die-cast Tardis(es), 2 plush ones, and 1 rolling-along version (that doesn't work very well, unfortunately). And assorted other stuff. He he he.
Of course, the sonics saw some use during the vacation itself. There was the Ghost Tour at Port Arthur, where it got really dark and scary. When the guide started to get to the truly spooky part of the tale, she must have been shocked to see three (yes, me too) sonic screwdrivers whip out of our pockets!
Ha ha ha. That was fun!
Thursday 22 December 2011
Thursday 15 December 2011
Letters and Numbers
I have just returned from the Great Southern Land. More specifically, I visited that isle where devils roam. Over the course of my next updates, I shall doubtless be writing about my experiences there.
Yet.....
While the diversions were plentiful and diverse, and I enjoyed the Great (oh, yes, truly!) Outdoors immensely, there was one particular programme on television that I wish to highlight first:
Yes. Television. Now, this is the point at which my friends and acquaintances will go, "What! You went all the way there and you're telling me about TV?! Are you out of your mind?!"
Well, of course I am. But that is besides the point.
Actually, the programme that I wish to mention is also a gameshow (gasp! collective clutching at chests expected here ; P) which goes against everything that I have said about such in the past. But I will plead this: this is the sort of gameshow that I loved as a child, the sort that was replaced by inane prancing about and back-stabbing politics, not to mention physical exertion. If I don't like running and jumping about, what makes the TV people think that I want to watch other people doing that? Duuh!
Anyway, the program is ABC's Letters and Numbers, in which two contestants are pitted against each other to form words, solve mathematics puzzles and conundrums. On top of that, more words and their curious histories are introduced. Most excellent! It was smashing! And very educational! I loved it! Go look for it!
Of course, the daughter was bored by it all, and didn't understand how her father was so bloody hyper when someone formed the word Scrounged, which used up all the available letters (incidentally known as a full monty!). Such fun!
Yet.....
While the diversions were plentiful and diverse, and I enjoyed the Great (oh, yes, truly!) Outdoors immensely, there was one particular programme on television that I wish to highlight first:
Yes. Television. Now, this is the point at which my friends and acquaintances will go, "What! You went all the way there and you're telling me about TV?! Are you out of your mind?!"
Well, of course I am. But that is besides the point.
Actually, the programme that I wish to mention is also a gameshow (gasp! collective clutching at chests expected here ; P) which goes against everything that I have said about such in the past. But I will plead this: this is the sort of gameshow that I loved as a child, the sort that was replaced by inane prancing about and back-stabbing politics, not to mention physical exertion. If I don't like running and jumping about, what makes the TV people think that I want to watch other people doing that? Duuh!
Anyway, the program is ABC's Letters and Numbers, in which two contestants are pitted against each other to form words, solve mathematics puzzles and conundrums. On top of that, more words and their curious histories are introduced. Most excellent! It was smashing! And very educational! I loved it! Go look for it!
Of course, the daughter was bored by it all, and didn't understand how her father was so bloody hyper when someone formed the word Scrounged, which used up all the available letters (incidentally known as a full monty!). Such fun!
Thursday 13 October 2011
Wednesday 12 October 2011
Japan
Prof Tommy Koh published an essay entitled Why I Believe in Japan recently. In it, he praised the Japanese people for their resilience, unity and civic-mindedness, and attributed their survival through Earthquake, Tsunami and Nuclear Disaster to the same.
Yet, at the same time, he mentioned that it was time for Japan to 'open up and embrace the world'.
I do not disagree with his assessment.
I have spent a little time in Japan, and found that theirs is a culture that was founded on very strong traditions. Every japanese that I had met was excruciatingly polite, some to the point that I was wondering if I was being mocked or pitied. There also appeared to be certain unspoken signals which passed between, which I, as a 'gaijin' was unable to decipher.
And despite my ability to understand (in a limited fashion) kanji and (in an even more limited fashion) hiragana and katagana, I was often lost whenever I tried to find my way in the Tokyo railway system. According to friends of mine from Kyushu who were with me then, they had a smiliar problem. It was the system and its layout that made it complicated, sometimes beyond the explanations available on the maps.
Then there was the culture shock that I received at Akihabara. Needless to say, the presence of young women dressed in diaphanous replicas of schoolgirl uniforms was unexpected. Yet, everyone elsed passed them by as if they were a normal sight. Perhaps they were, just not to me! And imagine how I felt when I visited Harajuku after that!
To a tourist, or someone taking a course there, these were all little quirks of the country that made for good stories. But it also shows how closed off Japan has become. It is as if its people live in a separate world. Even Tokyo is distanced from the other parts of the country.
So, yes. Japan needs to open up further. And perhaps it will.
But not in my lifetime, I think.
Yet, at the same time, he mentioned that it was time for Japan to 'open up and embrace the world'.
I do not disagree with his assessment.
I have spent a little time in Japan, and found that theirs is a culture that was founded on very strong traditions. Every japanese that I had met was excruciatingly polite, some to the point that I was wondering if I was being mocked or pitied. There also appeared to be certain unspoken signals which passed between, which I, as a 'gaijin' was unable to decipher.
And despite my ability to understand (in a limited fashion) kanji and (in an even more limited fashion) hiragana and katagana, I was often lost whenever I tried to find my way in the Tokyo railway system. According to friends of mine from Kyushu who were with me then, they had a smiliar problem. It was the system and its layout that made it complicated, sometimes beyond the explanations available on the maps.
Then there was the culture shock that I received at Akihabara. Needless to say, the presence of young women dressed in diaphanous replicas of schoolgirl uniforms was unexpected. Yet, everyone elsed passed them by as if they were a normal sight. Perhaps they were, just not to me! And imagine how I felt when I visited Harajuku after that!
To a tourist, or someone taking a course there, these were all little quirks of the country that made for good stories. But it also shows how closed off Japan has become. It is as if its people live in a separate world. Even Tokyo is distanced from the other parts of the country.
So, yes. Japan needs to open up further. And perhaps it will.
But not in my lifetime, I think.
Monday 10 October 2011
Digging through the Old Stuff
Looking through the junk that I had accumulated over the years, I was pleasantly surprised to find my old PSP console. Ancient 1.5 version. And still with Final Fantasy Tactics loaded!
That, to me, was one of the best games that I've ever played. And now that I have dug it out of plastic box limbo, I'm going to take it on one more time. Ha!
I've also found a number of old CDs, mostly from my Celtic period. Of course, there's the Tori Amos and the Kate Bush collections too. I missed these dreadfully when I was setting up my iTunes library. Well, better late than never - they'll be joining my Symphonic/Gothic Metal soon enough. I'll have to make some time one of these evenings, I think.
Then, I found some of my old ramblings, when I was trying to convince myself that I could be a writer. Looking over some of the scribblings I made, it was hard to keep myself from wincing in embarassment. Yet, I suppose they were my ideas, and I would not be doing them justice if I abandoned them now. So... I shall rework some of them. Perhaps putting them onto some closed blog may ensure that they survive. We'll see.
Strange how old things are beginning to take over my life again. Even though I have new books and new music to fill my days. Maybe I should list down some of my more recent acquisitions as well, just so that I may remember when this blog becomes old too.
That, to me, was one of the best games that I've ever played. And now that I have dug it out of plastic box limbo, I'm going to take it on one more time. Ha!
I've also found a number of old CDs, mostly from my Celtic period. Of course, there's the Tori Amos and the Kate Bush collections too. I missed these dreadfully when I was setting up my iTunes library. Well, better late than never - they'll be joining my Symphonic/Gothic Metal soon enough. I'll have to make some time one of these evenings, I think.
Then, I found some of my old ramblings, when I was trying to convince myself that I could be a writer. Looking over some of the scribblings I made, it was hard to keep myself from wincing in embarassment. Yet, I suppose they were my ideas, and I would not be doing them justice if I abandoned them now. So... I shall rework some of them. Perhaps putting them onto some closed blog may ensure that they survive. We'll see.
Strange how old things are beginning to take over my life again. Even though I have new books and new music to fill my days. Maybe I should list down some of my more recent acquisitions as well, just so that I may remember when this blog becomes old too.
Thursday 6 October 2011
Death of Desire
Steve Jobs has died.
My last post was about one of his last innovations, the iPad 2, and how it has recently become a part of my daughter's life. It had been the object of her desire for some time now, and only just fulfilled. My wife's iPhone 4 was a gift that I bought her last year, for our anniversary. My mother has the iPad 1. She uses it for her Sudoku and to keep her connected with her friends, not to mention her Korean drama fixes. On top of that, she has an iTouch, which she uses to carry her music around, and to record her karaoke sessions.
Me? I use my trusty iPad 1 for meetings, for surfing the net, for games, for mail and facebook. And for updating this blog (which I don't do often enough). Like everyone else, I have come to enjoy the snazzy style of the i-range of Apple products, and love the man-machine-interface that has become so much a part of life. I confess to have been disappointed by the latest item, the iPhone 4S, put on offer, and could not help wondering what dear Mr Jobs would have thought of it. Or how he might have made the presentation (in a more snazzy, stylish manner, I was certain!)
Steve Jobs took technology and made it desireable.
Here is a man who took a practical item, and made it personal. And made it desireable.
Not the iPhone, not the iPad. I am talking about the Mackintosh computer. It was the first one to ever use a mouse as a pointing device. I gawked at it when I first saw it at the Computer Room at the University, and reveled in its ease of use. I desired one, but like other lowly students, could not afford one.
Then came the upheaval at Apple and Steve Jobs was out.
Then he was in again, and the iMac hit the stores. Again, I was caught up with the desire to possess one: so sexily colourful!
The hits just kept coming: iBook, iPod, MacBook, MacBook Air, Mac Mini, iPad and iPhone.
The personal computer, as my friend Trebuchet mentions in his own ode to Jobs, become truly personal. It was a fashion statement, a lifestyle choice, a necessary piece of technology, a means to an ends and an end in itself, in some extreme cases. It is hard to conceive of life without these items.
Steve Jobs is dead.
Suddenly, there is an empty place. An empty space. Who shall step into his shoes? Who will envision the next Big Thing? Who will make it happen?
Whoever it is, let us hope that the object remains one of desire.
RIP Steven Paul Jobs. You will be missed.
My last post was about one of his last innovations, the iPad 2, and how it has recently become a part of my daughter's life. It had been the object of her desire for some time now, and only just fulfilled. My wife's iPhone 4 was a gift that I bought her last year, for our anniversary. My mother has the iPad 1. She uses it for her Sudoku and to keep her connected with her friends, not to mention her Korean drama fixes. On top of that, she has an iTouch, which she uses to carry her music around, and to record her karaoke sessions.
Me? I use my trusty iPad 1 for meetings, for surfing the net, for games, for mail and facebook. And for updating this blog (which I don't do often enough). Like everyone else, I have come to enjoy the snazzy style of the i-range of Apple products, and love the man-machine-interface that has become so much a part of life. I confess to have been disappointed by the latest item, the iPhone 4S, put on offer, and could not help wondering what dear Mr Jobs would have thought of it. Or how he might have made the presentation (in a more snazzy, stylish manner, I was certain!)
Steve Jobs took technology and made it desireable.
Here is a man who took a practical item, and made it personal. And made it desireable.
Not the iPhone, not the iPad. I am talking about the Mackintosh computer. It was the first one to ever use a mouse as a pointing device. I gawked at it when I first saw it at the Computer Room at the University, and reveled in its ease of use. I desired one, but like other lowly students, could not afford one.
Then came the upheaval at Apple and Steve Jobs was out.
Then he was in again, and the iMac hit the stores. Again, I was caught up with the desire to possess one: so sexily colourful!
The hits just kept coming: iBook, iPod, MacBook, MacBook Air, Mac Mini, iPad and iPhone.
The personal computer, as my friend Trebuchet mentions in his own ode to Jobs, become truly personal. It was a fashion statement, a lifestyle choice, a necessary piece of technology, a means to an ends and an end in itself, in some extreme cases. It is hard to conceive of life without these items.
Steve Jobs is dead.
Suddenly, there is an empty place. An empty space. Who shall step into his shoes? Who will envision the next Big Thing? Who will make it happen?
Whoever it is, let us hope that the object remains one of desire.
RIP Steven Paul Jobs. You will be missed.
Wednesday 5 October 2011
iPad 2 White
I have just purchased an iPad 2 for the daughter.
It was a promise that I made to her, to encourage her to put in more effort with regards to her Mandarin tests. Three full-marks on her weekly assessments would gain her a white iPad 2, I told her. And after a few fumbles (we made the deal in March after all), she finally succeeded. So an iPad I got her.
Now some folk will say that I'm spoiling her rotten. That she's going to grow anti-social by immersing herself into the game-world and ignoring everything else. Doubtless all the tiger-mothers out there will condemn my move as a piss-poor parent.
Yet...
Imagine her howls when she discovered that there were no game apps included in the machine. Nevertheless, she was happy enough with her new toy, and promptly made a new deal with me:
Full marks at any test/assessment (including spelling tests) will mean I load up one more game for her.
With the year-end assessment tests (I don't like to call them exams this young) coming up, it's no skin off my chin. More pressure on the sprog. Besides, when all the results are tabulated and released to us parents, it will in the midst of the holidays. Time enough for her to play to her heart's content, and get bored with her games when school starts again next year.
To quote Hannibal: I love it when a plan comes together.
Heh heh.
It was a promise that I made to her, to encourage her to put in more effort with regards to her Mandarin tests. Three full-marks on her weekly assessments would gain her a white iPad 2, I told her. And after a few fumbles (we made the deal in March after all), she finally succeeded. So an iPad I got her.
Now some folk will say that I'm spoiling her rotten. That she's going to grow anti-social by immersing herself into the game-world and ignoring everything else. Doubtless all the tiger-mothers out there will condemn my move as a piss-poor parent.
Yet...
Imagine her howls when she discovered that there were no game apps included in the machine. Nevertheless, she was happy enough with her new toy, and promptly made a new deal with me:
Full marks at any test/assessment (including spelling tests) will mean I load up one more game for her.
With the year-end assessment tests (I don't like to call them exams this young) coming up, it's no skin off my chin. More pressure on the sprog. Besides, when all the results are tabulated and released to us parents, it will in the midst of the holidays. Time enough for her to play to her heart's content, and get bored with her games when school starts again next year.
To quote Hannibal: I love it when a plan comes together.
Heh heh.
Thursday 29 September 2011
Wednesday 21 September 2011
Bang/Kiss
My poor car was on the receiving end of a fender-bender this morning.
Ouch.
The impact was more than sufficient to mess up my bumper utterly, and dent the panels of my boot. And smash up the rear lights on the driver's side. Worse, the bumper has been knocked so far forward that it's in contact with my rear wheel. Which means I can't drive the car, even if I was thick-skinned enough to endure the stares.
Double ouch.
After waiting for the tow-truck and getting the vehicle to the mechanics, I was told that the damage is going to take a good deal of work. Looks like a major job that's going to take days in the workshop.
Mega ouch!
I'm missing my car already. It's going to be awful the next few days.....
Oh, I didn't mention that the person who rear-ended me is my next-door neighbour, did I?
Wince!
Monday 19 September 2011
A Feast in the Garden
The missus suggested that we head into Orchard Road yesterday to do some shopping, and I of course, had to agree. While we were preparing to set out, I suddenly remembered that I still had a pair of vouchers for Korean BBQ. I dug them out and discovered that they had yet to expire. So we decided that there was no time like the present to put them to use. Since there were only two of them, I'd have to pay for our daughter's share of the meal, but that was okay.
When we arrived, it was still early, and the restuarant was still setting up. So we wandered about the shops there, and I took the opportunity to scrutinize the vouchers. That's when I realized that it was a Sunday, and if accompanying a paying adult, a child dines for free! And the vouchers entitled us to the same deal! How wonderful!
Needless to say, the three of us stuffed ourselves silly with the beef & chicken & lamb therein. And the daughter enjoyed herself thoroughly with the ice-cream thereafter.
A good day.
When we arrived, it was still early, and the restuarant was still setting up. So we wandered about the shops there, and I took the opportunity to scrutinize the vouchers. That's when I realized that it was a Sunday, and if accompanying a paying adult, a child dines for free! And the vouchers entitled us to the same deal! How wonderful!
Needless to say, the three of us stuffed ourselves silly with the beef & chicken & lamb therein. And the daughter enjoyed herself thoroughly with the ice-cream thereafter.
A good day.
Thursday 11 August 2011
Heads Underwater
It has been almost 3 months now, since the missus ventured south to the Victorious City. It has been a rough ride, for the daughter, who misses her mother greatly. I have done what I can to divert her, but there are times that I fail utterly. It is not in me to coddle my child, and my methods of teaching tend towards the draconian. The old ways have always worked, in my opinion when it comes to schoolwork, and my daughter has only helped to reinforce this.
But when it comes to physical activity, I am not so confident. Those who know me know that I am not, by any generous definition, a sporty person. So it was with some reluctance that I agreed to teach my daughter to swim.
I had tried this before, mind you. The sprog was happy enough to splash in the shallow pools, and to clamber on my back to 'ride the whale' as I did my laps. But she appeared to have an abject fear of getting water in her eyes and holding her breath underwater. So much so that I had largely given up on her swimming before she became an adult.
For some reason, the topic of swimming came up over the weekend, just before the National Celebrations. And I found myself promising to bring her down to splash in the water once again. She thoroughly enjoyed that, but went on to ask me to teach her again. I warned her that it was going to be frightening at times, and reminded her that my teaching methods usually involved a bit of trauma. But she persisted, so I agreed.
To my surprise, she was more receptive to what I told her, and actually put some effort into her kicking. It took me a good while before she was willing to try holding her own nose and looking underwater, goggles on, of course. Then she was doing it sans hands. That was some motivation, I have to admit. So I committed to teaching her more in the coming months. Soon, I hope, she will be able to pull herself along by dint of her own strength.
In the meanwhile, here was something that she could boast about to her mother, when the missus returns on Friday night.
But when it comes to physical activity, I am not so confident. Those who know me know that I am not, by any generous definition, a sporty person. So it was with some reluctance that I agreed to teach my daughter to swim.
I had tried this before, mind you. The sprog was happy enough to splash in the shallow pools, and to clamber on my back to 'ride the whale' as I did my laps. But she appeared to have an abject fear of getting water in her eyes and holding her breath underwater. So much so that I had largely given up on her swimming before she became an adult.
For some reason, the topic of swimming came up over the weekend, just before the National Celebrations. And I found myself promising to bring her down to splash in the water once again. She thoroughly enjoyed that, but went on to ask me to teach her again. I warned her that it was going to be frightening at times, and reminded her that my teaching methods usually involved a bit of trauma. But she persisted, so I agreed.
To my surprise, she was more receptive to what I told her, and actually put some effort into her kicking. It took me a good while before she was willing to try holding her own nose and looking underwater, goggles on, of course. Then she was doing it sans hands. That was some motivation, I have to admit. So I committed to teaching her more in the coming months. Soon, I hope, she will be able to pull herself along by dint of her own strength.
In the meanwhile, here was something that she could boast about to her mother, when the missus returns on Friday night.
Wednesday 20 July 2011
Someone Like You
This song from Adele:
"Someone Like You"
I heard
That you're settled down
That you
Found a girl
And you're
Married now
I heard
That your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things
I didn't give to you
Old friend
Why are you so shy?
Ain't like you to hold back
Or hide from the light
I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over
Never mind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
"Don't forget me," I begged
"I'll remember," you said
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead."
Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead,
Yeah.
You know how the time flies
Only yesterday
It was the time of our lives
We were born and raised
In a summer haze
Bound by the surprise
Of our glory days
I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over.
Never mind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
"Don't forget me," I begged
"I'll remember," you said
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead."
Nothing compares
No worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes
They are memories made.
Who would have known
How bittersweet this would taste?
Never mind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
"Don't forget me," I begged
"I'll remember," you said
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead"
Never mind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
"Don't forget me," I begged
"I'll remember," you said
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead"
Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead
Felt as if she ripped my heart out and left it bleeding on the ground.
Wow!
"Someone Like You"
I heard
That you're settled down
That you
Found a girl
And you're
Married now
I heard
That your dreams came true.
Guess she gave you things
I didn't give to you
Old friend
Why are you so shy?
Ain't like you to hold back
Or hide from the light
I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over
Never mind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
"Don't forget me," I begged
"I'll remember," you said
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead."
Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead,
Yeah.
You know how the time flies
Only yesterday
It was the time of our lives
We were born and raised
In a summer haze
Bound by the surprise
Of our glory days
I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded
That for me it isn't over.
Never mind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
"Don't forget me," I begged
"I'll remember," you said
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead."
Nothing compares
No worries or cares
Regrets and mistakes
They are memories made.
Who would have known
How bittersweet this would taste?
Never mind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
"Don't forget me," I begged
"I'll remember," you said
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead"
Never mind
I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you too
"Don't forget me," I begged
"I'll remember," you said
"Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead"
Sometimes it lasts in love
But sometimes it hurts instead
Felt as if she ripped my heart out and left it bleeding on the ground.
Wow!
Tuesday 19 July 2011
Mandarin Rampant
For many, the weekend is a time to recharge, to recover from the work week’s mental or physical drain. Some sleep in, ignoring the rigid cycles that define their work life. Others pack their schedules full. Most spend their Saturdays and Sundays with their families, forging deeper bonds. Yet others indulge in their passions and activities, which lift them up spiritually or psychologically.
For me, there is no choice in the matter. With the missus out of town for work, I have been left to take care of my daughter. The situation does not allow for much relaxing, sleeping, or any activity that does not involve bringing a seven-year-old along for the ride. And since her school teachers have indicated that her Mandarin is less than stellar, and wished to put her in a remedial class, I have had additional duties piled upon my plate.
Honestly, my wife’s Mandarin sucks. She is barely able to converse on a kindergarten/lower primary level. And she has difficulty reading even the Mandarin section of the daily free tabloid. I sometimes wonder how she managed to survive in China, Hong Kong and Taiwan, those years that she was outstation there.
It stands to reason, therefore, that I be assigned the task to teach my daughter the intricacies of Mandarin. Unfortunately, I know only the methods by which I myself had been taught. By ‘unfortunately’, I mean unfortunately for my daughter:
It was a harsher time when I was a student. The teachers do not mollycoddle their pupils as they do these days. Punishments were swift and merciless. My knuckles were not permanently damaged, and I can still sit on my arse, so I suppose it can be survived. So I am going back to these ‘tried & true’ methods – writing, recitation, repetition. And a swift whack when her attention wavers.
The results have been promising so far: she received 42/50 for the first ‘Ting Xie’ and full marks for the second. Now all I have to do is to keep her sufficiently motivated. All the praises heaped upon her by both her grandmothers help.
As does the promise of a new tech-toy. Like me, the daughter’s a gadget freak : )
For me, there is no choice in the matter. With the missus out of town for work, I have been left to take care of my daughter. The situation does not allow for much relaxing, sleeping, or any activity that does not involve bringing a seven-year-old along for the ride. And since her school teachers have indicated that her Mandarin is less than stellar, and wished to put her in a remedial class, I have had additional duties piled upon my plate.
Honestly, my wife’s Mandarin sucks. She is barely able to converse on a kindergarten/lower primary level. And she has difficulty reading even the Mandarin section of the daily free tabloid. I sometimes wonder how she managed to survive in China, Hong Kong and Taiwan, those years that she was outstation there.
It stands to reason, therefore, that I be assigned the task to teach my daughter the intricacies of Mandarin. Unfortunately, I know only the methods by which I myself had been taught. By ‘unfortunately’, I mean unfortunately for my daughter:
It was a harsher time when I was a student. The teachers do not mollycoddle their pupils as they do these days. Punishments were swift and merciless. My knuckles were not permanently damaged, and I can still sit on my arse, so I suppose it can be survived. So I am going back to these ‘tried & true’ methods – writing, recitation, repetition. And a swift whack when her attention wavers.
The results have been promising so far: she received 42/50 for the first ‘Ting Xie’ and full marks for the second. Now all I have to do is to keep her sufficiently motivated. All the praises heaped upon her by both her grandmothers help.
As does the promise of a new tech-toy. Like me, the daughter’s a gadget freak : )
Tuesday 7 June 2011
Swift and Pink
The missus had something to say about my driving playlist recently. I had purchased Taylor Swift's Fearless and Speak Now CDs, as well as Pink's greatest hits. And I've been cycling through these three for days on end. Apparently, my wife wonders at my sudden change, from what used to be a predominantly gothic & symphonic rock playlist.
Quite honestly, I don't really know how this came to be. Pink's lyrics are biting and harsh, despite her catchy melodies. Taylor Swift's music seem saccharine sweet, but there are some songs that hide a dark side, a bitter pill that lurks among the innocent-looking lyrics. White Horse, in particular, is a tale of betrayal. Not quite the sort of song that one expects from the one who sang Love Story.
I think I'll throw Avril Lavigne into the mix next. Black Star ...
Quite honestly, I don't really know how this came to be. Pink's lyrics are biting and harsh, despite her catchy melodies. Taylor Swift's music seem saccharine sweet, but there are some songs that hide a dark side, a bitter pill that lurks among the innocent-looking lyrics. White Horse, in particular, is a tale of betrayal. Not quite the sort of song that one expects from the one who sang Love Story.
I think I'll throw Avril Lavigne into the mix next. Black Star ...
Monday 6 June 2011
School Daze Again
Well, it has been six months since I last worried about the sprog's progress in school. I suppose it is appropriate, given my work, to do a mid-year review. So here it is:
1. She is not the shortest in her class. (she missed that honour by a hair.)
2. She is rather good at math, although she does not check her answers and therefore loses points in careless mistakes.
3. Her mandarin is passable, though the teacher had mentioned on two or more occasions that her spoken mother-tongue has a rather western twang to it, if and when she deigns to use the language in conversation. My fault, I suppose. I really must make her watch more local chinese dramas.
4. Her english is ... This one is hard to judge. She speaks well and fluently, and her ability to answer questions is undisputed. However, she is very lazy when it comes to those open-ended questions. Her answers are usually too short and lacks completeness to score the full marks. Offhand, I'd say that she is just too lazy to copy out the 'whole' answer. Oh, well.
5. She still persists in eating far too little. I have attempted to rectify this by tempting her with scrumptious chocolate cake and delicious bak kwa, along with other goodies. However, with such matters, a longer period of assessment shall be necessary. I shall need to keep track of this.
6. The teachers have agreed that my daughter is a very helpful person, who likes to assist the teachers and her fellow students. Apparently, she regularly helps to move the chairs and tables around when needed, volunteers to collect papers for handing up to the teachers, and other such duties. She has also confessed that she was rather disappointed at being passed over for the class monitress job - due to her lack of inches, which prevents her from cleaning the top of the whiteboard. (I promptly exploited this to coax her to eat more and grow taller).
7. More astonishing is the fact that she has declared that her goal is to become a prefect! Goodness gracious! Where did she get this from? The missus and I have both avoided public office our whole lives! Is this a way of the Fates getting back at us? Sigh.
Apart from this, the little girl has persisted in her love of the colour green, boy cartoons like Ben Ten and Generator Rex, and a preference for jeans over dresses. However, just this saturday past, she suddenly cosied up to me and asked for a Hello Kitty hairband. Ah yes! The princess syndrome finally kicks in!
Heh heh heh.
1. She is not the shortest in her class. (she missed that honour by a hair.)
2. She is rather good at math, although she does not check her answers and therefore loses points in careless mistakes.
3. Her mandarin is passable, though the teacher had mentioned on two or more occasions that her spoken mother-tongue has a rather western twang to it, if and when she deigns to use the language in conversation. My fault, I suppose. I really must make her watch more local chinese dramas.
4. Her english is ... This one is hard to judge. She speaks well and fluently, and her ability to answer questions is undisputed. However, she is very lazy when it comes to those open-ended questions. Her answers are usually too short and lacks completeness to score the full marks. Offhand, I'd say that she is just too lazy to copy out the 'whole' answer. Oh, well.
5. She still persists in eating far too little. I have attempted to rectify this by tempting her with scrumptious chocolate cake and delicious bak kwa, along with other goodies. However, with such matters, a longer period of assessment shall be necessary. I shall need to keep track of this.
6. The teachers have agreed that my daughter is a very helpful person, who likes to assist the teachers and her fellow students. Apparently, she regularly helps to move the chairs and tables around when needed, volunteers to collect papers for handing up to the teachers, and other such duties. She has also confessed that she was rather disappointed at being passed over for the class monitress job - due to her lack of inches, which prevents her from cleaning the top of the whiteboard. (I promptly exploited this to coax her to eat more and grow taller).
7. More astonishing is the fact that she has declared that her goal is to become a prefect! Goodness gracious! Where did she get this from? The missus and I have both avoided public office our whole lives! Is this a way of the Fates getting back at us? Sigh.
Apart from this, the little girl has persisted in her love of the colour green, boy cartoons like Ben Ten and Generator Rex, and a preference for jeans over dresses. However, just this saturday past, she suddenly cosied up to me and asked for a Hello Kitty hairband. Ah yes! The princess syndrome finally kicks in!
Heh heh heh.
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