I feel good. I’ve just finished translating a short article in Chinese about this year’s predicted Consumer Price Index. I did it all by myself, admittedly with extensive help from Google’s wonderful Language tools.

This is the first time in a long while that I’ve enjoyed studying Chinese. Mandarin was my first language but I’m very rapidly losing my speaking and writing ability. I came to Australia from Taiwan when I was three years old and have worked hard since then, trying to keep my language. The problem is that I hate studying Chinese. It’s so painful. I get most things wrong. I speak wonkily. I struggle even with children’s books, never mind newspapers and literature. I need my parents to hold my hand through every text I read. When I write essays, they correct my drafts at least three times. I’ve driven my mum up the wall so often. I feel bad when this happens, she feels bad… It’s really frustrating.

I do wish I enjoyed learning Chinese. It would make it much easier. I know people who, like me, came over when they were young. These people love reading Chinese novels, watching Chinese films and TV serials. They want to (and do) travel back to Taiwan and China. Me, I don’t care enough. There’s not much there that interests me (except the food). And when I watch Chinese shows, the pain of processing the language eliminates whatever enjoyment I have of the content.

I often think, “What’s the point? What’s the point of studying when I don’t enjoy it and I’ll forget most of it after I stop?” The alternative, though, is to give up and let it go. I don’t want to lose my heritage like that.