Tonight
This is one of those moments, in which I want terribly to throw my laptop out of the window when it failed to start properly once again. And I can't believe just as I was typing this, it hanged on me in that peculiar way when I type a question mark in Chinese - all keys turn to the case on shift, and I can't move the cursor, can't select, can't scroll, and MSN disconnects itself. The only way to continue composing this crap is to shut down. It sounds like the ghost of the 'sticky' key function, although I've never in my life time ventured to observe its effect by turning it on.
Just had argument with mum again. It all concerns an incident which by itself is already unfortunate. It's time to pay off the residual electricity bill in my US residence, because I told NYSEG to terminate my account in Aug, and whatever amount that was due from my previous bill was carried forward to after termination. That was about 80 USD. On top of that there's around 1/2 month more of electricity to pay before we evacuated the house. So that's fine. But the bill due now turns out to be 180 USD. And I can't for the life of me think of how we used so much electricity in those days. In fact all electronic equipment were tragically on the yard sale. There was no heating of course. And when parents came, they sleep early and my room was never much lit. There's nothing we can do about it though, for the lady whom I spoke to across the Pacific could do nothing except reassuring me that the reading is correct, and that the bill was 5 days overdue.
Fine. I paid up. Or dad did. I must say that I never dreamt of myself involved in a college life lived in one of those Italian practice sentences in class: Quando ho bisogno di soldi, telefono a papa`. So email a papa` I did, and he paid promptly today. And the next step (sigh) has to be this UOB bank clerk calling home at 10.30pm, just now, checking on this dubious transaction. Mum and I had then just finished a lengthy discussion about "study companion mums". (A new sort of social phenomenon in Singapore where a child comes over to Singapore to study, typically at a young age with school positions secured through expensive agents, and thereafter the mum comes to stay in Singapore to take care of him. Not to be confused with immigrants. I'm not sure about other Asian Pacific regions but these people brought into light are all Chinese.) During the discourse I was dangerously close, on several occasions, on incurring mum's wrath again, but I had the good fortune to steer clear. However, after the phone call, which I was too fed up with lateness of night and all that to lie about, threw mum into a jumping panic. She was already upset with the wall fan, on which an attached pulling string for speed adjustment was stuck. This brings her to issues of migration to Singapore, the climate being one of its evils. So being hot and sticky and all that I don't see how being anxious and enraged help mum at all. I told her that I simply found out from the guy what it was about, deduced it was not a big deal because I knew about the transaction, and finally told the guy to contact dad by writing to him in email. Needless to say I had to hide stuff like my explanation of the trasaction to the clerk. Mum's accusations were that I had always been stupidly honest with strangers and that I'd better tell other people everything. And that a phone call made this late is definitely suspicious (which I sort of agree for this unfathomable working habit of Singaporeans). And that I'd been dumb in not asking for his name, and then been unreasonable in telling her that asking for names is not necessary. etc etc. Voices were raised but I didn't back off my reasons. Instead tried to pacify her with this half comical, half coaxing way of talking which turns out so much to be like dad. So I'm not sure if she was eventually more pacified. I don't mind as much as before though, because somehow I think I got to know mum's patterns a lot better. And I could actually sense her signals for backing off. And so I backed off too.
Moments of frustration are good for practising fingers for erhu. RZ remarked, after having dinner with today, that my erhu skills do seem wanting of improvement. She watched a guy perform the same piece which I used to play, and made such a conclusion. Irrationally and yet totally being me at the same time, I was profoundly hurt. This will be the kind of remark that makes me practise erhu with a vengance, like how Jo cut her hair or cooked for her dogs. When I replied that I'm much better at it now, which is a fact, I felt like crying and was choking back defensive sentiments. RZ is a smart girl though; if she hadn't guessed, it was only because she was preoccupied.
RZ rationalises a hell lot about her worries, setbacks in life. And I realised that my listening style towards her is one of joking and injecting weird comments. To the point of her remarking once (her remarks are sometimes profoundly penetrating) that my way of helping or consoling is one based on my having a uncommon view of life to begin with. As I write of it, I think I can well take that as a compliment. However, it's really because whenever RZ explains her case, she has finished up all the thinking and logic humanly possible to render upon the case. I want to offer fresh perspectives, being one who hates lack of originality (which is strange because I hate lack of authenticity too. Can you find a more contradictory mass of nerves than me? RZ can explain all this, no doubt). So I make uncommon comments. Hey that sounds like, whom? SY isn't it? That's how he always ends up saying something which nobody understands except me, and then quickly saying "aish never mind" with a slight anxious frown and opening of mouth. Now I shouldn't flatter myself, for knowing him or being him. But indeed, wasn't my past at least partly irreversibly shaped by him?
Rationalisation is a process of self defense. When you confide, you rationalise to get less hurt, such that in case you do not get comforting feedback, you have yourself to fall back upon. I realise I'd do the same if I were RZ, but I'd collapse in verbal logic. If given half a night I can write it out in ambiguous, broken sentences with a mind which remains clouded after writing. A more grandiose reason is that I think I do disdain logic for its lack of consequences (Sigh.. Singaporean talk shows.). An entirely selfish reason is that the patheticness of my effort to listen and help contrasts greatly with a ready made solution. And comparing to logic, the momentary warmth of heart and comradeship seems even more useless in solving another's problem. I guess until I learn to understand another, and put aside the urge to be comically theatrical, can I help people better, or start to talk of my own problems.
Yess! I'm being a good blogger, blogging before sleep instead of at work. What a heroic effort.
Just had argument with mum again. It all concerns an incident which by itself is already unfortunate. It's time to pay off the residual electricity bill in my US residence, because I told NYSEG to terminate my account in Aug, and whatever amount that was due from my previous bill was carried forward to after termination. That was about 80 USD. On top of that there's around 1/2 month more of electricity to pay before we evacuated the house. So that's fine. But the bill due now turns out to be 180 USD. And I can't for the life of me think of how we used so much electricity in those days. In fact all electronic equipment were tragically on the yard sale. There was no heating of course. And when parents came, they sleep early and my room was never much lit. There's nothing we can do about it though, for the lady whom I spoke to across the Pacific could do nothing except reassuring me that the reading is correct, and that the bill was 5 days overdue.
Fine. I paid up. Or dad did. I must say that I never dreamt of myself involved in a college life lived in one of those Italian practice sentences in class: Quando ho bisogno di soldi, telefono a papa`. So email a papa` I did, and he paid promptly today. And the next step (sigh) has to be this UOB bank clerk calling home at 10.30pm, just now, checking on this dubious transaction. Mum and I had then just finished a lengthy discussion about "study companion mums". (A new sort of social phenomenon in Singapore where a child comes over to Singapore to study, typically at a young age with school positions secured through expensive agents, and thereafter the mum comes to stay in Singapore to take care of him. Not to be confused with immigrants. I'm not sure about other Asian Pacific regions but these people brought into light are all Chinese.) During the discourse I was dangerously close, on several occasions, on incurring mum's wrath again, but I had the good fortune to steer clear. However, after the phone call, which I was too fed up with lateness of night and all that to lie about, threw mum into a jumping panic. She was already upset with the wall fan, on which an attached pulling string for speed adjustment was stuck. This brings her to issues of migration to Singapore, the climate being one of its evils. So being hot and sticky and all that I don't see how being anxious and enraged help mum at all. I told her that I simply found out from the guy what it was about, deduced it was not a big deal because I knew about the transaction, and finally told the guy to contact dad by writing to him in email. Needless to say I had to hide stuff like my explanation of the trasaction to the clerk. Mum's accusations were that I had always been stupidly honest with strangers and that I'd better tell other people everything. And that a phone call made this late is definitely suspicious (which I sort of agree for this unfathomable working habit of Singaporeans). And that I'd been dumb in not asking for his name, and then been unreasonable in telling her that asking for names is not necessary. etc etc. Voices were raised but I didn't back off my reasons. Instead tried to pacify her with this half comical, half coaxing way of talking which turns out so much to be like dad. So I'm not sure if she was eventually more pacified. I don't mind as much as before though, because somehow I think I got to know mum's patterns a lot better. And I could actually sense her signals for backing off. And so I backed off too.
Moments of frustration are good for practising fingers for erhu. RZ remarked, after having dinner with today, that my erhu skills do seem wanting of improvement. She watched a guy perform the same piece which I used to play, and made such a conclusion. Irrationally and yet totally being me at the same time, I was profoundly hurt. This will be the kind of remark that makes me practise erhu with a vengance, like how Jo cut her hair or cooked for her dogs. When I replied that I'm much better at it now, which is a fact, I felt like crying and was choking back defensive sentiments. RZ is a smart girl though; if she hadn't guessed, it was only because she was preoccupied.
RZ rationalises a hell lot about her worries, setbacks in life. And I realised that my listening style towards her is one of joking and injecting weird comments. To the point of her remarking once (her remarks are sometimes profoundly penetrating) that my way of helping or consoling is one based on my having a uncommon view of life to begin with. As I write of it, I think I can well take that as a compliment. However, it's really because whenever RZ explains her case, she has finished up all the thinking and logic humanly possible to render upon the case. I want to offer fresh perspectives, being one who hates lack of originality (which is strange because I hate lack of authenticity too. Can you find a more contradictory mass of nerves than me? RZ can explain all this, no doubt). So I make uncommon comments. Hey that sounds like, whom? SY isn't it? That's how he always ends up saying something which nobody understands except me, and then quickly saying "aish never mind" with a slight anxious frown and opening of mouth. Now I shouldn't flatter myself, for knowing him or being him. But indeed, wasn't my past at least partly irreversibly shaped by him?
Rationalisation is a process of self defense. When you confide, you rationalise to get less hurt, such that in case you do not get comforting feedback, you have yourself to fall back upon. I realise I'd do the same if I were RZ, but I'd collapse in verbal logic. If given half a night I can write it out in ambiguous, broken sentences with a mind which remains clouded after writing. A more grandiose reason is that I think I do disdain logic for its lack of consequences (Sigh.. Singaporean talk shows.). An entirely selfish reason is that the patheticness of my effort to listen and help contrasts greatly with a ready made solution. And comparing to logic, the momentary warmth of heart and comradeship seems even more useless in solving another's problem. I guess until I learn to understand another, and put aside the urge to be comically theatrical, can I help people better, or start to talk of my own problems.
Yess! I'm being a good blogger, blogging before sleep instead of at work. What a heroic effort.
posted by Azzurra | 12:04 AM
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