le jbocifnu (by alaric)

As I mentioned before, I'm teaching Mary Lojban.

The project that lead to Lojban was originally started to explore an idea - the Sapir-Worf hypothesis states that language influences thought; in its strongest form, one cannot imagine a concept one cannot put into words (but that's been largely discredited now). The weak version of the hypothesis is that language can hinder or help our cognitive processes.

Lojban was designed as a language with as much expressive density as possible - letting you clearly express precise concepts easily. The idea is that somebody who can think in Lojban can think more clearly than somebody thinking in English, for example.

I've been learning it myself, and I've certainly found it interesting - I'm limited by my slowly-expanding vocabulary, but already, I often find myself using Lojban concepts in my inner dialogue. There are concepts covered by a large class of irregular grammar in English that are just a single word in Lojban, and identifying the commonalities between all these bits of English into one thing is, in my experience, providing a lot of insight.

But it'd be awesome if I could teach my daughter to think awesomely. It'd certainly help us to attain world domination. Some of the more far-out possibilities in Lojban might take a few generations of native Lojban speakers to fully understand!

However, nobody seems to have taught Lojban to a newborn baby before, so I'm having to work out how to do it myself, based on advice from people raising bilingual children in other languages. I'm mainly starting with Lojban's attitudinals before, which are simple words used to attach emotional context - whereas in English, emotion is expressed with subtle yet crude changes in wording and emphasis, Lojban has a rich set of words to explicitly attach attitudes to sentences or any part thereof. They're useful on their own, too, to simply express the emotion on its own without making any actual statement.

They're perfect for the simple emotional world of babies, and they're easy to say. Here's the ones I've been using:

• {.uu .oidai} ("Oooh Oy-die") - "Aw, you're suffering/uncomfortable"
• {.ui .oinaidai} ("Whee, Oy-nie-die") - "Yay, you're comfortable"
• {.i'i} ("Ee-hee") - "We're together"
• {.i'isai} ("Ee-hee sie") - "We're very together" (eg, whole family cuddle!)
• {.oi} ("Oy") - "Grr, I am suffering" (eg, when something goes wrong for me during a nappy change)
• {.oipei} ("Oy pay") - "How are you feeling on a comfortable <-> uncomfortable axis?"

There's a vast repository of more and more subtle emotions that can be expressed as time passes.

But I'm also using some actual sentences, too. Mainly things like {xu do xagji} ("Hoo doe hag-jee"), "Are you hungry?" and pointing out what things are {ti mamta} ("Tee mamta") "That's your mum, that is!". And sometimes I throw in complex sentences, even though she won't understand, because it's useful to get used to the sound of sentences: {.iu lo mensi be do .e lo mamta be do .e mi cu prami do} ("you low mensee be doe eh low mamta be doe eh me shoe pramee doe") "your sister, your mother, and I love you" (said with a loving attitude, which doesn't quite translate into English).

But as she develops, I'm keen to explore the cases where Lojban and English don't match up well, as they are the mind-opening things that have already taught me more about language and thought. {ti mo} is a good question - it literally asks what relationships the pointed-at object is involved in or what properties it has, which invite a wide range of answers from "it's a cat" and "it's black" to "it exists in a three-dimensional space" (which sounds bizarre for a child in English, but {se canlu} ("Se shanloo") is a short phrase in Lojban that is the natural way to distinguish a real or toy cat from a picture of a cat).

All of these are rather verbose technical-sounding concepts in English, but that's part of the beauty of Lojban - they're simple words, forming parts of the core lexicon, and so they are easier concepts to teach in it!

Mary progress (by alaric)

Mary's doing well. Her blood sugar was a bit low at first, due to some combination of medication Sarah was on before the birth (Metformin, to control gestational diabetes, which acts to reduce blood sugar levels) and a delay in Sarah's breast milk coming through properly, but she got over that fine and was pronounced fit to discharge. She and Sarah are still in the hospital for now, though, as Sarah's quite anemic and gets short of breath very quickly, and she was showing some signs of infection; but they put her on antibiotics, and the infection symptoms are fading away. She's on iron supplements, and is getting stronger every day.

I've been spending most of every day with them, helping Sarah with looking after herself and Mary, and keeping them company. I get to hold Mary lots, which has been particularly fun as she's started being more awake and alert; she spent a lot of time sleeping for the first couple of days, but now she opens her eyes and looks around, turning her head towards voices. Today she took to lifting her head up, although her neck is still quite weak so she can only do this if you're holding her upright to begin with; she now unsteadily holds her head up so she can look around more. The right thing to do to help her brain develop at this stage is to talk to her, so that's what I've been doing... telling her about the pets at home and that sort of thing. I've also been having a go at talking to her in Lojban, as I'd quite like to raise her as Lojban/English bilingual, in order to test the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis once and for all. I need to to a bit more research on suitable Lojban baby talk, but so far it's been {ko .iu gleki} ("be happy, darling"), {lo vi mamta be do} ("Mummy's here!"), {mi patfu do .iu} ("It's Daddy!"), {.uu .uinaidai} ("Aw, you're sad"), {.uipei} ("Are you happy?"), {.uidai} ("You're happy!"), {fi'i la meris} ("Welcome, Mary"), and so on.

Motivation (by alaric)

When I started working, long ago in 1998 at Internet Vision, motivation wasn't a problem: work was something I did to cheer myself up. This held when I moved over to Frontwire; but when the company abandoned its offices, sacked all of my department apart from me, and I had to work from home back in 2002 or 2003 or so (IIRC), I started to find it hard to get up and start working in the mornings; I realised that working on problems with other people was more of a motivation for me than the fear of being reprimanded for not getting enough work done!

Well, I left that company before long, and freelanced for a while, then got together with some others and formed a company, GenieDB. I can now combine the best of both worlds; I can work from home, in my own environment, while being in contact with my colleagues in our company IRC channel, and working together on problems. I find it hardest when we're all working on unrelated projects, so there's little daily sharing of issues and triumphs, but the level of de-motivation I feel then is small fry compared to how it was when I worked alone!

Nonetheless, since my Frontwire days, various other stresses have appeared in my life, so my base level of motivation is nowhere near what it once was. Carefully managing my morale in order to keep my head above water is an important concern.

Luckily, I made a breakthrough some months ago; for some reason or other I had to be up much earlier than usual, so was up at 8am one day. When I had dealt with the business that required the early morning, it was about 9am, and I didn't need to start work until 10am - so I used the extra hour to go and tinker with stuff in my workshop. It was good. Having had an early morning I was tired that night and fell asleep easily, and having had an hour of "me time", I didn't have my usual restless urge to go and do something fun rather than going to bed.

And I forgot to turn the alarm clock back to its usual time. So the next morning I awoke again at 8am. Except this time, having been to sleep earlier, I wasn't dog tired. So I got up and enjoyed two hours of me-time before starting work.

I was hooked.

Previously, I would wake up knowing I had to get out of bed, get Jean ready for preschool, deliver her there, then start working, spend my lunch break mowing the lawn or other domestic tasks, eat at my desk, work until it was time to go and collect Jean, bring her back, cook dinner, take Jean to bed, then try and catch up on domestic matters (while tired) before going to bed and having trouble sleeping. This not being a particularly delightful prospect, I would often lie in bed far too long, cherishing the ability to just lie there and think, knowing that getting up meant stepping onto a virtual treadmill.

But now I was waking up at eight in the morning, and positively leaping out of bed at the thought of going and doing something fun. I made a rule that, from 8am to 10am, I'd do whatever I wanted; I wouldn't accept requests. I'd get to my desk at 10am, lively and happy. I'd be more tired in the evenings (that extra two hours didn't come out of nowhere), but much less depressed, so I'd get the domestic stuff done sooner and end up spending more time with Sarah once Jean was in bed, then be off to bed in good time as I was getting tired.

My two hours in the morning even gave me time to do things like having showers, which I had previously had to try and fit elsewhere in the day, often ending up going several days overdue!

Even when I'm in London, I woke up at 8am and spent two hours pottering about on my laptop, or going for a walk.

Now that Jean's started school, it's not quite so good - I have to be up at 7:30am to start helping Sarah to get her up, and fed, and dressed, and leave the house at 8:15am to get Jean to the school for 8:45am, but then I'm back home at 9am for an hour of my own before starting work at 10am; I still find it hard to get out of bed knowing I have to do the school run before I can do fun things, and I don't fancy getting out of bed at 6:30am for an hour to myself before doing that 🙂 When Sarah's healthier she might be able to cope with the school run on her own, though, so it might improve yet; she doesn't seem to benefit from starting the day with her own time as much as I do, so that might be a fair trade.

We'll see!

Lovely Date 03/06/09 (by sarah)

Need I say more?

Walks off humming happily.

First Class (by alaric)

Once a week, I go to London for a few days, almost always by train. It costs £42 if I buy a ticket from the station on the day - or, if I book in advance at TheTrainLine, as little as £16. Tickets ordered in advance are cheaper, but it seems there is a limited allocation of each price grade - as the more popular routes quickly sell out of £8 each way tickets, then the next level up (£11.50), then the next level up (£18).

However, when I booked the tickets for last week, for the return journey on Saturday, only the £18 ones remained - but, unusually, there were still some £19.50 first class tickets left.

I'd never travelled first class before. So, I decided I'd give it a try. £1.50 isn't much to spend on an experiment.

And my conclusion is: first class equals a comfier seat and the offer of a free biscuit and tea or coffee.

Which, if I drank hot drinks, would definitely be worth the extra one fifty, at the going rate for such things.

As a non-hot-drinker, I think I about broke even with my experiment, but on a journey of more than an hour, the better seat would be well worth a similarly small price increase.

But travelling first class is nowhere near worth the more than doubling in price (£116 rather than £42) it costs if you buy your ticket on the day. That's a total ripoff.