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Saturday, February 14, 2004
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Finished Nic Nickleby. Heavy (not Intense) reading. Took bout a week still.
Very good. Now i can understand y there's a number of critics who weren't able to enjoy e movie. The movie didn't do the book 'justice' (n thus Dickens). But it's a matter of precedence really. If the movie was screened first and a book was actually written on it, i would have claimed e reverse. And this claim has no purpose ,whatsoever, dedicated to belittling Dickens or e book "Nicholas Nickleby". It jus means I enjoyed both very much, in respect of their separate compounds and styles. It would make not much point, to me, to compare the two , rubbing out one for e other, in order to state what probably everyone who read e book and watched e movie knows - that if they were to be put side by side, e scale would tip so drastically in favor of e written work that e screenplay would have no relative worth ; and that would be rather sad, since i enjoyed both quite so much.
But screenplays are screenplays. E constraints are numerous. But still i would have preferred certain characters to have shone through.
~
Think i can readily conclude that when my dad starts to hit e age where he is conventionally labelled as "old", he would be a particular that would bring out e worst in me. In other words, i foresee myself not being able to live very harmoniously with my old man. Dun be mistaken, i've always loved my dad, appreciated him for all he has done and displayed my affections with a good can of Stout from time to time. But neither am i so noble and big-hearted that i could overlook my dad's weaknesses or even translate these shortcomings in favor of him. (he din piss me off. i'm not writing this in indignation.)
He's dowdy and old-fashioned. And he lacks a general interest in things besides his work, family and basking in e glory of how both has well succeeded (u should hear him brag bout his sons, even I shudder).
And food and booze of course. That's all. No other interest which he has (be it badminton, ironing, handymanning, cars) would accompany him into old age, for time would wear those muscles of his and soon enough, he shouldn't be climbing up ladders with his very awkward belly of his, hammering at walls or painting them. I haven't heard him speak of art, of life, of nature - he appears to me a very strong figure, like someone so infallible and unfailing, whose words only comes in logic and reason, whose desires are rarely out of personal wants. (except in watches and bags , he is a very weird collector )
And i sometimes stop and think , ' What does my old man think when he walks past fauna and flora or read poems by chance or watch dramas where tears are shed and words of love are said ? ' And it seems to me, he puts them down probably. Therefore he doesn't watch dramas. He watches Discovery Planet and documentaries and history flicks. He doesn't read anything besides management related skill books. But he can't possibly escape e beauty of nature can he? But i think he is capable of completely disregarding them. It is as baffling as it is in a way, worrying how different i am from my pop. But he isn't stone. He is a man of great wit and humor, capable of doing a twist or a dance routine with a block of cheese after downing a few glasses, 'is e funny man at social gatherings, e soprano on Sunday nights.
But back to e pt. of y i prob wouldn't get along with e old him. He's gonna stop working and that'll fraction his life into half. And he will lose his authoritative figure at home , he prides himself now in being e thick trunk that holds e family upright and proper, but when we take over, he is going to feel really empty.
All these are my predictions , and not mine alone, for my mother meekly agrees with me wholeheartedly. He'll be terribly naggy and whiny , esp. with anything concerning his health, from a toenail to his tennis elbow (watever dat is), we are witnessing these inclinations now, it's very tough to keep giving him e infinite attention he demands so we sometimes decide to ignore him. I cannot bear to see him when he turns 70. My mom's gonna suffer. Haha. *smile*
We have tried telling him to quickly get himself acquainted with e outside world and step out of his nutshell. Of course, it wasn't phrased as stated, no, not to a man who works for MNCs - a 'nutshell' ??? he'll flip i tell u. But he refuses. No social dancing, no reading, no more mahjong (he was a mad fan of the magical tiles once. it's hereditary i tell u...). He's complacent about life. but oh well, he's pretty old already. there is this inertia that comes with age. AND i dun really wanna see him dance. Heh. It's not in his character. But then i can only regretfully think that, his character does not seem to promise much joy in his old age then.
and elp, he's beginning to start e old ppl thing. Where they rattle on and on droningly about some object of their concern (a bag for an instance) and u try to put across e point of utmost disinterest and display ur heartfelt boredom thru ur tone and mannerisms (and feel absolutely guilty but u'll rather not encourage him.. ), but all ur efforts seem to pass thru him and still he drones on. Egad. And worst of all, my blood rises to its highest level at nagging. I am most intolerant of that trait. And it seems (so ironically) to be e most distinct flaw of my dearest father.
But he really dotes on me. Till this day, i am still quite sure (so is my bro) that there is still slight favoritism showed. And just this fact alone (not e favoritism bit, e dotes bit) should be enough to let me accept him for man he was meant to be, respect him for e great father that he is, and love him for e hero (albeit very very naggy) he will always be, till he no longer can dote on me, nor I, him.
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Monday, February 09, 2004
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I bought e book - Nic Nickleby. :P
Charles Dickens is a remarkably witty and detailed writer, pays such careful attention to little hand gestures or even jus the gait of the characters,even if they do not render any significant developments in plot or character design.
And i like his style, the way he is intimately involved in what he pens,whether it is Nicholas or jus e outwardly appearance of Dotheboys Hall, yet able to take a step back and write the story in e way storytellers read theirs, injecting philosophies of his own from time to time.
But i'm quite happy that i could make it to half e book without desperate need of a dictionary (the situation where i cannot make out e meaning of a sentence or its implications without one). I thought it would have been so demned (heehee, fm Dickens) tedious that i would be struggling at every paragraph (and still i bought the book. obstinance really. *shakes head helplessly* ), but i was quite absorbed by its content and def. by the language. Very flowery but it excited me so much (admits embarressedly) that i actually read out loud (vehemently) those rather passionate, impactful monologues and dialogues as if i were rehearsing for a play. (i can't believe i jus admitted that. zhen diu lian)
But if i were to work on the book (it would be "working on the book" if i did , :] ) referring to a dictionary at every encounter with a alien term, i would probably not have enjoyed e book so much. But still i did look up many words which in fact, were my very old acquaintances from those days of Comprehension passages and model essays (and yes, i was too lazy then... or forgetful... ). A revisit really.
I'm still about halfway through. Very long book. But i am hoping i won't finish it too quickly. It's quite addictive. Might try another Dickens book after this.
Oh i bought Mrs Dalloway too (finally). After Nic.
yml : if e copy my aunt ordered for me (since last june, *growls*) does come after all, u'll get this one i bought. :)
English is really as beautiful as Chinese is.
And books in e former are very much easier to digest than ones in e latter. Even to me. (how arrogant) >:P (true wattttt)
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In J1, i had e oppurtunity to meet this girl on my LEP Beijing Trip. A girl whom i would have liked to further my acquaintance with, in a purely platonic sense. Though i can't remember any specific incident giving birth to such an inclination, I vaguely remember it was some rather taciturn chemistry musically. She is quite a talent. She has her own album, i think. And she was ever mentioned by I-weekly. And she is very active in e performing arts.
I mention her in memory of that rather peculiar feeling i get when I'm around her: if she agreed with something u said or shared a common interest, u had all e right in e world to feel rather immensely proud of urself. Probably that kind of feeling u get around celebrities n' talents.(or at least celebrities u like, not Janet Jackson). Or it could be a very musical thing, cos i get that feeling from a friend that's quite a piano prodigy, in my opinion.
Anyway, this girl actually sent me two of her favourite albums by her favourite singer, songwriter , Chen Shan Ni, by post. How odd and very flattering indeed. Odd because we hardly knew each other and i could easily forget to return her e album (which indeed i did, till now, which is a good 1 and a half years). Flattering because it does evince a certain trust in both my integrity and taste.
But i really didn't get down to listening to both albums seriously since e day i received it. Yes, so it sat neglected for 1 and a half years in my shelf. I did try easy-listening but somehow it doesn't give e albums e attention it deserves, and thus did it great injustice because i remembered that i declared (to myself) that e albums were "not my cuppa tea" (which was a guise for "her-music-is-so-weird":- i jus dun feel nice putting them down cos it was after all her good intentions).
And now, after i decided to get a Postpac to envelop the two cds and send it back to her that i thought, hell, if someone had took e effort n time to send me her favourite albums, thinking that i was someone deserving of such trust (above-mentioned) and of such kind intentions, how deplorable of me to jus send e cds back to her, accompanying with it a lousy hand-written note : " Thanks, not bad but not my cuppa tea"(hypocritical me)! So now i'm giving myself and Chen Shan Ni a chance to redeem ourselves.
Playing Chen Shan Ni's " Wu Xie Ke Ji ".
It's not too bad. Really. But still "not my cuppa tea".
Wait, that sounds familiar...
But somehow I feel much more at ease with my not-very-new conclusion.
---- E silly ethics of Zheng Yi
Listening : Chen Shan Ni's " Bu Gou Fang Si "
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