你 好 吗？我 很 好。 我 叫 Abby。 你 叫 什么？我 是 老师。 你 从 哪 儿 来？ 我 来 自 美 国。我 是 美国 人。 再 见。
(How are you? I am very well. My name is Abby. What is your name? I am a teacher. Where are you from? I am from America. I am American. Good bye.)
And I can say it too!
1.19.2011
1.18.2011
One down, three to go
So that resolution thing? A bust. Well, not a total bust. But the writing everyday has lost its flair, as was inevitable. I missed a day on purpose, and yesterday, in a flurry of children, Chinese lessons, and oh-sh*t-I-have-to-teach-something-tomorrow planning, the blog was again left silent.
Do not fear loyal readers! This does not mean an end to regular updates of the life that warrants the name "mad momma". However, this will probably be toned down a bit. Now that I have granted myself permission to abandon the writing every day thing, I don't think I will be writing every day. Wasn't that profound.
In other news from the front: we had snow yesterday, with frigid for Chongqing temperatures. Chongqing is dubbed one of the 3 furnaces of China with good reason. Call it global warming, climate change, or El Nino (though that doesn't really hit us here), or whatever else, but we have had our share of odd weather so far this winter. It's like all the snow I heard about in Georgia, minus the accumulation part, but weird, nonetheless.
For us to see snow was wild. Most of our students have grown up in Taiwan and Chongqing have never seen snow and it was fun to see their reaction to it. And mine - I stopped mid-sentence and rushed to the window to confirm it.
No snow days coming. Probably not even a late start for crappy roads. Maybe some more flakes to frolic in, though.
That would be cool.
And good for resolution #1 to get off my duff and get moving. Right...
Do not fear loyal readers! This does not mean an end to regular updates of the life that warrants the name "mad momma". However, this will probably be toned down a bit. Now that I have granted myself permission to abandon the writing every day thing, I don't think I will be writing every day. Wasn't that profound.
In other news from the front: we had snow yesterday, with frigid for Chongqing temperatures. Chongqing is dubbed one of the 3 furnaces of China with good reason. Call it global warming, climate change, or El Nino (though that doesn't really hit us here), or whatever else, but we have had our share of odd weather so far this winter. It's like all the snow I heard about in Georgia, minus the accumulation part, but weird, nonetheless.
For us to see snow was wild. Most of our students have grown up in Taiwan and Chongqing have never seen snow and it was fun to see their reaction to it. And mine - I stopped mid-sentence and rushed to the window to confirm it.
No snow days coming. Probably not even a late start for crappy roads. Maybe some more flakes to frolic in, though.
That would be cool.
And good for resolution #1 to get off my duff and get moving. Right...
1.16.2011
Stream of consciousness
I know, I know - I missed a day. Well, we went to a huge expat party, ate, drank, were merry, and came home late with the kids. I decided, everyone needs a day off. I considered doing two posts today to make up for it but this is my blog and I reserve the right to change the rules as I please.
So resolutions are good. And this resolution is going very well (aside from the paragraph above). I enjoy it. I spout my mouth about all things uninteresting and random and you poor people read it. It's not the next great American novel, but it's something. At least I'm writing. But the writing doesn't feel, um, to have a point. I sit here feeling uninspired and frankly, a bit tired. Yet I've challenged myself to write every day. To the world. Something worth reading. From my brain.
I read once that if you want to be a writer you must write every day. Hone your skills. Get something out and feel it, read it, leave it, make it better. All writers, big and small, write EVERY DAY. But what is this writing they do? Is it junk like I put here? Is it musing over a new chapter in a novel for an hour? What exactly am I supposed to be writing?
I guess I should start with my goal. Writing, I said, would be an outlet for me to relieve stress so that I may be sane for those with whom I share space. Ultimately, however, I would like to write a book. And I fear that I will write a nonfiction book, not that there's anything wrong with that. But being the avid fiction reader I am, I've always wanted to write a novel. A novel you can't put down by page 2. A novel that brings the emotion out of the reader's mind and onto their face. A novel that has my name on it and sells more than 10 copies to friends and family.
So how do you write a novel? What kind of writing should I be doing every day? Do I need an idea fir....
You know, this sounds like I should be taking a class or something. 'Cause I have time for that.
Or do I?
So resolutions are good. And this resolution is going very well (aside from the paragraph above). I enjoy it. I spout my mouth about all things uninteresting and random and you poor people read it. It's not the next great American novel, but it's something. At least I'm writing. But the writing doesn't feel, um, to have a point. I sit here feeling uninspired and frankly, a bit tired. Yet I've challenged myself to write every day. To the world. Something worth reading. From my brain.
I read once that if you want to be a writer you must write every day. Hone your skills. Get something out and feel it, read it, leave it, make it better. All writers, big and small, write EVERY DAY. But what is this writing they do? Is it junk like I put here? Is it musing over a new chapter in a novel for an hour? What exactly am I supposed to be writing?
I guess I should start with my goal. Writing, I said, would be an outlet for me to relieve stress so that I may be sane for those with whom I share space. Ultimately, however, I would like to write a book. And I fear that I will write a nonfiction book, not that there's anything wrong with that. But being the avid fiction reader I am, I've always wanted to write a novel. A novel you can't put down by page 2. A novel that brings the emotion out of the reader's mind and onto their face. A novel that has my name on it and sells more than 10 copies to friends and family.
So how do you write a novel? What kind of writing should I be doing every day? Do I need an idea fir....
You know, this sounds like I should be taking a class or something. 'Cause I have time for that.
Or do I?
1.14.2011
Chinese mothers
A bit ago I wrote this about parents in China having babies and handing them over to be raised by grandparents. Of course, since going on my diatribe, I have have seen more parents with their kids than grandparents with grand kids. I even saw a lady make her gambling partners wait for her to get her baby latched on before the next hand was dealt in an illegal roadside game.
But just when I thought I'd got over my crazy labeling of Chinese parenting, someone else did it. In case you missed this one, you must read "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior".
I haven't figured out how to respond to this yet. I think I need to read it again, though I alternated between chills and nausea and anger while reading it.
Not for me, I suppose.
But just when I thought I'd got over my crazy labeling of Chinese parenting, someone else did it. In case you missed this one, you must read "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior".
I haven't figured out how to respond to this yet. I think I need to read it again, though I alternated between chills and nausea and anger while reading it.
Not for me, I suppose.
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