Relaxing

Optimal relaxation achieved. Nodding off with brutal efficiency.

The house awash with food and noise and children. Not necessarily in that order. And not disturbed in the slightest.

Something Sweet

Rushing the finishing touches necessary to setting off having just come back from the stillness and  peace of Friday Prayers. Today's muezzin was possessed of an extraordinarily mellifluous voice. A practical call to worship combined with pointless beauty. The melody existing simply for its own sake.

Some time later (22.15): Just arrived after negotiating some pretty slow traffic on the highway and now at Wati & Aziz's place enjoying a happy plateful of roti prata telur bawang dua + teh tarik super gajah = satisfaction x 10 = optimal.

On Our Way, Again

We'll be making our way north tomorrow. Destination: the homestead in Melaka. Purpose: a pre-Ramadhan kenduri with as many of the family as can gather. All very jolly.

But a surprising amount of preparation & thinking ahead is required even for a short break. And I'm doing some of the necessary now.

Is it all worth it? Oh yes, emphatically so. (But do wish us luck with the traffic, if you get the chance.)

Not Entirely Integrated

I'm frequently puzzled by people who consider themselves people of integrity. So often they are entirely sincere about this without a trace of hypocrisy. But it seems so obvious to me that you'd need to be a remarkable person not to live without compromising your moral certainties at least some of the time. I'm painfully aware of the extent to which this is true for myself.

Case in point: Earlier in the evening Noi was talking about electric and hybrid cars in relation to the policy being rolled out by the government in the direction of moving car-owners towards owning such. Now I came to the conclusion quite a while ago that it was ethically the right thing for me to buy such a vehicle. But I've never taken action on this, for a variety of fairly good practical reasons; unfortunately none of these genuinely takes priority over what I see as the essential 'rightness' of acquiring one.

So here I am, still causing more damage to the environment than strictly necessary, but, typically, compromising as I so often do on key questions. 

Ouch.

Something Funny

I've manfully resisted posting anything at all about the recent revival of the Mighty Reds. The triumphs over City & the Goners were sweet, and sweeter still was the sense of release in finally being able to childishly taunt their supporters. But going public on all this so early might just be a step too far, so I won't.

But I can't resist linking to a typically brilliant cartoon by David Squires on the weekend's victory. This made me laugh immoderately, as did much of the stuff BTL. Enjoy, if you can. (Arsenal supporters are exempt from the invitation.)

Strong Stuff

Was knocked sideways today by a very powerful article in the Graun. The big interview, featuring Ian Russell, the father of the poor girl, Milly, who took her own life back in 2017 in large part due to the darker influences on social media, opens with a heartbreaking paragraph and then veers into some of the sanest commentary on the dangers of social media and what we might do about them that I've ever read. Mr Russell strikes me as an extraordinary man, admirable in every way. 

And a devastating contrast to those who control social media platforms and make lots of cash from doing so. I thought I loathed them prior to reading the article, but some of the details related by Milly's dad turned that loathing into something quite disturbing. A kind of rage. Fortunately it's the eminently sane Mr Russell who's a key figure in the fight against their pernicious influence and not myself.

I wish him well. We all should. In a world of noise, we need his voice.

A Bit More Ranting

So here goes with an attempt to expand a little on Tuesday's comments. What went wrong with IT in Education, apart from pretty much everything? (Yes, I'm exaggerating, but, honestly, not all that much.)

Let's start with a sort of foundational truism that everyone I know takes for granted: the new technology hugely facilitates communication at every level. The problem is that I'm convinced it doesn't. I reckon it hinders real communication.

How so? Well before I attempt a quick explanation let me explain where my sense of certainty comes from. I started teaching a good decade and a half or so before all the IT stuff really kicked in (which I'd date from roughly 1994. I think emailing in schools here started around 1995.) And teachers had few if any problems communicating with each other and with students. As far as I recall schools were organised such that they managed to do all the things back then that they do now, the obvious exceptions being holding classes and meeting parents online - but that only really started as a result of the pandemic and can't honestly be seen as necessary. You could easily phone parents back in 1978. And I'm inclined to think it's more effective teaching kids in a classroom than through a screen.

Particularly relevant to my own experience is the fact that I directed a number of quite 'big' dramatic/musical productions for schools in those early years. Now I'd say that of anything I've encountered in school life doing a big show (even a 'small' one) is the most dauntingly complex exercise in terms of the need to communicate effectively with lots of people at lots of levels. But it was do-able, without emails and messaging through various platforms.

And here comes the counter-intuitive thing. Communication was easier then. Any messaging had to be clear and kept to a minimum because (joyfully) all the platforms we now take for granted did not exist, so the capacity for last-minute changes of mind just wasn't there. These days it's by no means unusual to find out that a fairly important meeting has been postponed or rescheduled close to the last minute, often in the name of so-called flexibility. 

Someone, somewhere, forgot that fixity & predictability are valuable, indeed necessary, qualities in the general run of things and even when attempting genuinely creative exercises.

I don't know of any colleague these days who doesn't complain about the burden created by the sheer amount of 'information' out there - the tsunami of 'messages'. To adopt a quasi-scientific metaphor, the signal-to-noise ratio no longer favours clarity.

So much noise!

Narratives

I'm just here. I have no story.

The Right Trousers

I was feeling a touch despondent the other week having made myself face up to bad news on the trousers front. My favourite pair - actually my wedding trousers - had developed a badly placed hole in the pocket on the right hand side. In fact, The Missus and I reached agreement it was time to discard them, in line with our policy of getting lean & mean (as per my New Year Resolution for 2025 which we deemed still operational.)

I suppose it was remembering that said trousers had been tailored by her old friend Azman, in his shop in Peninsula Plaza, that prompted Noi to get out the sewing kit and attempt to remedy the offending gap. And I'm very happy indeed to say the remedy proved successful. I donned the garment throughout the working week and all held steady.

With luck the trousers might just last another three decades. 

Lost Worlds

Thinking of Dad, on this the anniversary of his death. Considering how out of step he so often seemed about the world around him, that faintly baffled air he exuded, it suddenly occurred to me how deeply uncomfortable he was with any kind of technological advance since the days of his youth. He didn't like to use the telephone and, if memory serves me well, he had little if any appreciation of the access afforded by the telly to a brave new world. Yes, he watched tv, but I can't recall him having any kind of favourite programme, and his frequent word for the kind of comedies I enjoyed was stupid. In contrast Mum definitely had her favourites and enjoyed identifying which programmes particular actors had been in before, a game Dad could never play - to her irritation, if I remember rightly.

Springsteen's great lines from Independence Day seem so apt for the middle-aged Jack Connor: there's just different people coming down here now and they see things in different ways / And soon everything we've known will just be swept away. I think that by the time I was 17 it had all been swept away for him - the familiar, tough but comforting world of England in the late 1940's. He could be relaxed in Denton Working Men's Club on Frederick Street, and in his little garden on Cargate Road but few other places.

Despite the considerable changes I've seen since I was a teenager I don't think the world of the 1970's has been swept away so completely. I'm luckier in that than Dad, as I have been in so many other aspects of life.

Sad.

Great Reading

Is listening to an audiobook as good as reading? was the question posed in an article in today's Graun. Must say, I'd have thought the answer was a bit of a no-brainer. Of course it is.

Slightly surprised the piece in question fails to mention the obvious fact that many 'readers' in past centuries were illiterate. How so, you ask. Well look at it like this. I reckon there's a good chance the majority of those enthralled by Dickens's great novels were spellbound by literate friends reading from the magazines in which they were first published, or were families gathered around the paterfamilias as he delivered the stories in the way I suspect their author deep down would have preferred to have them 'read'. (Assuming the father could do the police in different voices as per the wonderful Sloppy in Our Mutual Friend.)

In fact, listening to an audiobook could well provide the richer experience of a text. And definitely does in the case of plays that demand to be listened to rather than read on the page.

A Mild Rant

We have an excellent IT Department at my place of work. The guys in it have considerable expertise and are always ready to help. So why do I find myself enveloped in a haze of irritation, of an almost permanent nature these days, related to what might broadly be termed IT in Education? (Case in point, I got back home today a good twenty minutes later than really necessary, essentially due to a malfunctioning IT system.)

The funny thing is, I think I know the answer (or, rather, some of the answers) to the question I frame above. Today I articulated some of my thoughts to a colleague who was helpfully working with me to figure out another irritating IT-related issue that needed figuring out, and which we solved. We think. I was gratified that he gave much, if not all, of what I was saying credence.

Which made me think that one day, and this isn't that day, I might just make more of an attempt to share my (possible) wisdom with the world. The difficulty will be avoiding a rant that won't do anyone but me any good. (And I'm not sure that venting the irritation I feel will lead to any real relief; it might just inadvertently thicken the haze.)

The Wow Factor

Two distinct WOW moments today:

1) Ran the video for Prince's Sign O' The Times and was knocked sideways by it and the music. I suppose the contrast with Girls & Boys, which I'd played earlier in the lesson had something to do with it. That, and the complete perfection of the song & its production. (And I usually detest drum machines!)

2) Was reading The Grand Inquisitor chapter of Dostoevsky's supreme masterpiece. Stunned. (And more than once.)

Something in common in terms of my experience with each text: I know both very well indeed. Can't begin to number how many times I've listened to Prince's song (possibly over a hundred) and watched the video (probably above thirty views); and I've read The Grand Inquisitor as a standalone piece at least three times, once as part of a Philosophy of Religion course back in my undergraduate days.

Funny, then, they can still make such an impact on me. I suppose I should analyse why, but I can't be bothered. Being WOWWED lies beyond analysis. Possibly beyond reason.

Cheerful Anticipation

Just back from late night shopping at Clementi Mall. The supermarket there is now thoroughly geared up for the approaching Chinese New Year celebrations, and I must say I enjoy the goofy cheerfulness of it all. This sits in contrast to my generally negative feelings regarding the preparations undertaken in the Xmas season. Not sure where this bias stems from. I suspect I've over-dosed on Christmas cheer over a lifetime, hence the complete lack of logic I now embody. 

It helps not to be involved in the build-up to CNY in any meaningful way. No skin in the game, as it were. Just a happy adjacency - and a welcome holiday just at the right time.

Presently

Eating very well, thanks for asking. Lots of goodies coming in to the apartment this January for some reason, and The Missus on top form in terms of providing the comestibles.

Thinking of getting a bit more serious as I age. But most likely won't.

Seeing possibilities. Not many, but enough.

Listening to Prince's Emancipation over Spotify on the laptop. Hardly know the album and very happy to get acquainted.

Reading Dostoevsky, Henry Vaughan, the big Jazz book (love the photos) and bits & pieces here & there. The Brothers K dominating, hardly surprisingly.

Expecting bad news out of the big game in Manchester. But living in hope (a familiar state.)

Losing patience with all aspects of IT in education.

Anticipating a month of fasting coming soon. A bit intimidated, as always, but, assuming I can cope, the rewards are sort of guaranteed.

Writing this.

Replete

Sausages & mash just now, with some cunningly mingled onion. Felt like licking the gravy off the plate, it was so good. 

Always distinctly satisfactory to get to the end of the day in some small style.

Switching Over

Was talking this morning to students about dealing with uncertainty and heard interesting bits & pieces from them of their experiences of such and ideas of the best way to respond. Then at the end of a pretty long day found myself listening to an obviously well-informed commentator on American politics talking about the current state of play between the US and Iran. Found it all a bit much as Mum would have said and replaced it with the comfort of Jerry Garcia & co doing the business live. (I'm still on a bit of a Grateful Dead roll.)

Extremely unsure of what this says about my character. But it's not something I feel all that proud of, even if I'm enjoying those sweet and strangely comforting sounds as I write this.

Riches

The death of Bobby Weir got me thinking, as the deaths of old rockers often do these days. I realised I could easily lose myself for days or weeks in the Grateful Dead and offshoots' back catalogue and I'm not even a fan, as such, not even close to Deadhead status.

But, gosh, weren't they a truly great band (pun intended)? The masters of music that doesn't seek to draw attention to itself, but just unfolds in the moment.

Under The Weather

Thought I'd successfully staved off the coughing & spluttering so many family & colleagues & students have been afflicted with of late. I was wrong. My nose started running (in a big way) around 5.30 pm, and I've struggled manfully ever since. It wasn't a big surprise as I'd been nursing a headache in the early part of the day and that's often a precursor of a full-scale cold for me.

Now moaning (unmanfully, to be honest) and feeling deeply sorry for myself. I'm not good at illness so the sooner I'm cured the better.

Extremely Satisfying

Now firmly embarked on The Brothers Karamazov, having reached the end of Book 1. Astonishing stuff, even for a hardened reader of Dostoevsky. I thought there might be some build-up to the first provocatively 'scandalous' scene, but that came almost immediately and the pace hasn't slowed down since. Almost all the Karamazovs are crazy, but since no one else in the novel approaches any reasonable level of sanity this hardly matters.

And FD leaves you in no doubt he's dealing with the deepest questions of human existence amidst the crazy extremes.

I'm loving every page. (And it helps that I reckon that translators Richard Pevear & Larissa Volokhonsky really capture the idiomatically varied individual voices of the charaters. Of course, I have no idea what's in the Russian but none of the other translations I've read of the earlier novels gave me such a strong sense of that polyphonic variety.)

Just Dozing

It wasn't that I slept badly last week, but, as is so often the case in the first week of work after a relaxing break, I can't honestly say I slept terribly well. So I was looking forward to a bit of a lie-in this morning, but also keenly aware that in recent times once I've woken for and completed Dawn Prayers it hasn't always been easy to go back to bed and re-enter the land of nod. And that turned out to be the case this early morn.

But after getting up, enjoying the cup that cheers (x2), showering and listening to some sweet sounds, it's been a day on which I've found it suspiciously easy to nod off. Case in point: I popped up to the newish sort of shopping centre called Geneo, opposite NUH, whilst Noi was concocting a heap of curry puffs at the homestead, and came close to dozing in public at the nifty little garden they maintain out at the back. Someone has thoughtfully placed reclining chairs by the little ponds there and I stretched out on one intending to read a page or two but almost conked out after a paragraph.

In case you think I'm writing this in a spirit of complaint, I need to tell you that is very far indeed from the truth. I consider a dozy day as being amongst life's deepest blessings. And I wouldn't mind a repeat tomorrow to be honest.

Perfectly Monstrous

Need to give credit where credit is undoubtedly due. I forget to mention yesterday in my brief account of my recovery from musical torpidity that Sir Paul and his stellar live band of recent years played a crucial part in the process. Listening to the double-header of Let Me Roll It and Jet as performed live on Later... With Jools Holland happily blew my head off in SAC in the early part of the week. And to think that Macca was nearly seventy years young at this point in his illustrious career.

It helps that the band is monstrously good, especially Abe Laboriel, the monster on drums. I mean, Blimey!

Reviving

Here's an odd thing. I'd been mildly out of tune with the wonderful world of music - all varieties of musics, that is - throughout December. Yes, I did some listening, but it was all a bit forced. I felt sort of outside everything I tried to open my ears to, even stuff I deeply love. It was all okay, often pretty fine, but no more than that. So all sort of tepidly disappointing. And the irony is that I had oceans of time to listen.

I vaguely suspected that all this might change when I became genuinely busy again. And guess what? My suspicions have been realised. Thankfully!

Just played VdGG's Trisector and am deeply glad I did.

(Actually The Missus told me to turn it down as it was very loud, and I dutifully did so, and it still sounded blisteringly brilliant.)

Of Real Value

Chanced upon a fascinating piece over at the reliably rewarding Open Culture related to a pithy Japanese saying of penetrating insight. Those Japanese certainly know a thing or three.

And all this a useful reminder of my limitations in terms of in-depth knowledge of other cultures. I mean, I thought I knew quite a bit about the aesthetics of this culture, but really it's quite a little. Keen on learning more, though, and there's no excuse not to given the excellence of this website and those like it. 

It's not all AI slop out there.

In Retrospect

Broke my New Year's resolution already by looking back to this date ten years ago. No plausible excuse for doing so really, but I'll attempt one anyway. Remembering the wide open spaces is a way of looking forward to encountering them again one day. A way of knowing there's always a world elsewhere, even if the walls seem to be closing in.

Broken News

There's a lot of breaking news today, said Noi just now, particularly in relation to a certain POTUS and his unfathomable behaviour. She was thinking primarily of the frightening sense of destabilization in the world as we know it. Couldn't help but agree.

But, rather immaturely, my focus at this point is on the news out of Old Trafford. Deeply embarrassing stuff. Is this any way to run a football club? I ask myself and the world in general. (The answer is No, by the way.)

Clearing The Mind

Enjoyed a walk at West Coast Park this morning. Excellent way to shake out the creases and clean up a grubbily dusty mind.

Bit of a contradiction here. When I'm walking alone I tend to do a lot of thinking and, on occasions, actual detailed planning. When I'm walking with someone else, usually Noi, my thoughts are enjoyably limited to my immediate needs (few) and surroundings (rich.) So this morning my immediate concerns were limited almost entirely to the flora & fauna on view.

Sadly I'm now back at the table planning for the week ahead and cluttering the grey matter once again. But a morning's freedom from this kind of thinking is something to be grateful for. And the prata & teh tarik that followed were none too shabby either. 

Not So Complicated

It's a complicated life they have, said The Missus in relation to the increasingly complex comings & goings & wheelings & dealings portrayed on The Morning Show. We watched a full two episodes today, thus getting good value from our subscription to Apple TV and breaking my records for watching stuff on the Goggle Box over recent years. It's all absurdly fascinating with plenty of what Noi terms glamour. (She came up with a pithy phrase early in today's viewing regarding this aspect of the world of the rich & powerful in American media, but I'm afraid I've forgotten the exact wording.)

Must say, I feel a powerful sense of relief that the world on our tv screen bears no resemblance whatsoever to our own happily limited life & lives. Something to celebrate as I set about the nasi goreng ikan bilis we're about to share. Eat slowly 'cause the food is hot, says Noi, as we ready ourselves to eat. That's quite enough excitement for me. No further glamour required. 

A Timely Reminder

The khutbah for today's Friday Prayers was in English and had quite an impact on me. It wasn't that the sermon dealt with anything particularly new or unusual. I'm well aware of the Islamic teaching on the need for steadfastness and perseverance in trying situations, which was today's theme. And, let's face it, the notion is hardly exclusive to Islam. So why the impact?

In the course of  the morning I'd needed to deal with three distinctly irritating situations and I'd done so pretty well, but not well enough to be able to genuinely rise above the irritations involved. I'd score myself at 60%, with distinct room for improvement, and could well be over-generous in my estimate. The simple but deep wisdom of the khutbah helped reassure me I'd done reasonably well but left me in no doubt that doing well on just one morning wasn't enough.

The Imam's emphasis on the everyday nature of the challenges being referenced also hit home. I'd been discombobulated by the trivial throughout the morning, proof of my own smallness. But now was offered a chance to grow. Slowly.

Not Looking Back

We all know her in her various guises: 

She's got everything she needs / She's an artist, she don't look back.

In the year ahead I am resolved to imitate that lack of concern for the past and make of myself something new. (Well, if not new, then at least trying not to be so old.)