I'm done with preparing slides for the monthly meeting with KC tomorrow. Good enough reason to slack off for a while.
Updates:
1. Took grade 7 exam for erhu yesterday at NAFA (Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts) situated along Bencoolen Street (I like the sound of that name). Went there 2 hr earlier by the advice of instructor, to warm up properly before taking the exam. Got there and found to be once again deceived by trust and good faith in authority. Instructor made me believe that there were going to be individual practice rooms there for exam-takers, but there was just a big, common waiting room. There was the most terrific jig going on in there, with everyone tuning and playing on his instrument (mostly pipas; 2 guzhengs). And everyone looked no more than half as old as me. Erhu players before me hadn't arrived. So the examiner relentlessly sent this messenger little girl to ask me if I'd like to take the exam early. I replied "no" for 4-5 times. Managed to hold out against her for around 40 min. Sort of warmed up and went ahead into a classroom. There was only one examiner who didn't like to smile. He mumbled "begin" which I mistook for a grunt. So I played some scales. And he repeated his will. Started playing and realised that palm was getting incredibly sweaty. Got through the half-scale practise piece without too much fuss. But in the middle of chun1 shi1 I was really counting bars towards the end of the piece. My palm was wet and the sliding couldn't go on smoothly and sounded funny. I missed pitches too. A while more and I would have sunken into a state of disregard and would instantly relax and play as if I couldn't care less. Like how I sang "Breathe Your Name" in that Cornell Singaporeans' event which dragged on and on. So was finally done. The examiner pointed out something wrong in the scores I used, which made me instantly suspicious that the examiners in NAFA aren't on extremely good terms with the private music instructors from SCO. That apart he said I've got good ears and definitely could do better if I continue playing. So did I pass?
2. One of mum's stadium buddies gave her a whole bag of muffins. According to mum, they came from the auntie's son who works for SMU and got them for free. Now for what occasion does SMU give out large quantities of muffins (for it's large. The auntie gave a big plastic bagful to each of her stadium acquantances) for free I have no clue. But I couldn't say they were good muffins. Dense and floury and cold (mum stored them in fridge), and have an intense vanilla taste that stayed in my mouth for the entire afternoon. That, of course, is not what I should mention to mum, who regarded the muffins as delicacies, one of the pleasantest surprises of the month. Poor mum who never gets herself anything other than groceries. So she wasn't hesitant in exuding praises for that lady Santa Claus, making the most blatant generalizations just as what she does when she criticizes. The fact that the muffins were probably to be thrown away if nobody wanted them, and that the lady would then be just using something worthless to herself to gain favour from people - an act much less hospitable, were happily overlooked by mum. Also I bet if she gets some personal remarks from that lady again, she's not likely to recall that the other did her this good turn of muffins. That's mum's major problem: the tendency to charge forward in life with her subjective viewframe of life; when that doesn't fit life, she gets hurt, withdraws, forgets about it, then charges unthinkingly again. It is a test of the Confucian capability of self-cultivation to witness my mum's reasonabilities. I think my dad's on his way to become a saint.
I really shouldn't sound so entirely "done" with mum. That I have nothing else to do with her but to judge, strategise and tolerate. I'm able to keep her pacified and happy now, yes. Strategising really worked well. Still how to feel some genuine warmth towards her? Perhaps it's too much to ask for. Perhaps most people don't do that to their mums anyway. How heartless! But that's all that I can do so far. Mum's dramatizing her own vulnerabilities turn those who are concerned about her cruel. And mum's about the only to whom I exercise cruelty (in thought, not in action). That's kinda pathetic too (of me, not of mum).
3. Can't recall.
Updates:
1. Took grade 7 exam for erhu yesterday at NAFA (Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts) situated along Bencoolen Street (I like the sound of that name). Went there 2 hr earlier by the advice of instructor, to warm up properly before taking the exam. Got there and found to be once again deceived by trust and good faith in authority. Instructor made me believe that there were going to be individual practice rooms there for exam-takers, but there was just a big, common waiting room. There was the most terrific jig going on in there, with everyone tuning and playing on his instrument (mostly pipas; 2 guzhengs). And everyone looked no more than half as old as me. Erhu players before me hadn't arrived. So the examiner relentlessly sent this messenger little girl to ask me if I'd like to take the exam early. I replied "no" for 4-5 times. Managed to hold out against her for around 40 min. Sort of warmed up and went ahead into a classroom. There was only one examiner who didn't like to smile. He mumbled "begin" which I mistook for a grunt. So I played some scales. And he repeated his will. Started playing and realised that palm was getting incredibly sweaty. Got through the half-scale practise piece without too much fuss. But in the middle of chun1 shi1 I was really counting bars towards the end of the piece. My palm was wet and the sliding couldn't go on smoothly and sounded funny. I missed pitches too. A while more and I would have sunken into a state of disregard and would instantly relax and play as if I couldn't care less. Like how I sang "Breathe Your Name" in that Cornell Singaporeans' event which dragged on and on. So was finally done. The examiner pointed out something wrong in the scores I used, which made me instantly suspicious that the examiners in NAFA aren't on extremely good terms with the private music instructors from SCO. That apart he said I've got good ears and definitely could do better if I continue playing. So did I pass?
2. One of mum's stadium buddies gave her a whole bag of muffins. According to mum, they came from the auntie's son who works for SMU and got them for free. Now for what occasion does SMU give out large quantities of muffins (for it's large. The auntie gave a big plastic bagful to each of her stadium acquantances) for free I have no clue. But I couldn't say they were good muffins. Dense and floury and cold (mum stored them in fridge), and have an intense vanilla taste that stayed in my mouth for the entire afternoon. That, of course, is not what I should mention to mum, who regarded the muffins as delicacies, one of the pleasantest surprises of the month. Poor mum who never gets herself anything other than groceries. So she wasn't hesitant in exuding praises for that lady Santa Claus, making the most blatant generalizations just as what she does when she criticizes. The fact that the muffins were probably to be thrown away if nobody wanted them, and that the lady would then be just using something worthless to herself to gain favour from people - an act much less hospitable, were happily overlooked by mum. Also I bet if she gets some personal remarks from that lady again, she's not likely to recall that the other did her this good turn of muffins. That's mum's major problem: the tendency to charge forward in life with her subjective viewframe of life; when that doesn't fit life, she gets hurt, withdraws, forgets about it, then charges unthinkingly again. It is a test of the Confucian capability of self-cultivation to witness my mum's reasonabilities. I think my dad's on his way to become a saint.
I really shouldn't sound so entirely "done" with mum. That I have nothing else to do with her but to judge, strategise and tolerate. I'm able to keep her pacified and happy now, yes. Strategising really worked well. Still how to feel some genuine warmth towards her? Perhaps it's too much to ask for. Perhaps most people don't do that to their mums anyway. How heartless! But that's all that I can do so far. Mum's dramatizing her own vulnerabilities turn those who are concerned about her cruel. And mum's about the only to whom I exercise cruelty (in thought, not in action). That's kinda pathetic too (of me, not of mum).
3. Can't recall.
posted by Azzurra | 2:31 PM
2 Comments:
i think the lady giving the muffins probably did it out of goodwill. Not expecting anything in return.
It is not like she is thinking a lot when she is giving the muffins.
Probably not. I would have done the same, if I have a whole bunch of muffins I don't need, that I would be happy to give them to others and make them happy. But I still think it's undeserving of the magnitude of my mum's gratitude, especially when she thinks they are fresh, high-quality muffins (they are really not). I don't deny that I have a problem with my mum's liking for small material gains (tan1 xiao3 pian2 yi2). But it's her general life outlook (swinging between immense gratitude/humility and immense resentment) that makes her unhappy that frustrates me more. However, if I resort to strategising already, by right I shouldn't bother about the correctness of her philosophy of living. Yeah, so there.
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