Space! Our new pad has space! We spent our first night there last night, and slept well. Apart from no hot water in the kitchen (it has a separate heater, which doesn't work), all seems fine. There's a convenience store, a butcher shop, a cafe, and a small restaurant as part of the complex, which will be nice.

Transportation will be the continuing headache, though. It took me 45-50 minutes to get into work today -- a longish walk, a long wait for a bus, a short bus ride, and a long subway ride. We're going to have to figure something out.

Funny exchange of emails with people on my soccer team.

Yesterday the coach sent out this game report, from Sunday's game (which I didn't play):

Yesterday's results'
Ventz 3pm beat Shanghai Flowers 2-1. Stephen and Mark scored the goals

3pm played a good game and avoided a repeat of the game 2 weeks back by
having the better play and still ended losing. We scored all 3 goals (one
spectacular own goal!)

Since I didn't play, I had to ask --

Is there a new Mark on the 3pm team, or is "Mark" just what you call people when they score an own goal these days?

And someone responded:

Mark - you wouldn't believe this but from the new 2003 Oxford dictionary -

mark, verb 1a. : to make or leave a mark; b: to follow an opponent closely
(see also "David"), c: to label as to indicate.
defender "pulled a Mark" to put us 3-0 up>

I guess this is my own fault!

I'm back! Back to the blog, back to Asia, back to the old apartment. At least for a few days. We are in the midst of moving and I am currently surrounded by piles of stuff, most of which is shoved into suitcases, preparing to be moved over to the new pad tonight (hopefully).
I'm lucky to have made it back when I did. I nearly missed my plane from L.A. to Hongkong, as I only realized that the ticket meant 1:55 am (not P.M.) at midnight after putting on my pajamas. Kristina (to whom I will be forever grateful) and I threw my bags into the Saab, then I followed her in the rental car rushing through the streets and hitting seemingly every red light in L.A.. I returned the rental car in record time then Kristina hightailed it over to Cathay Pacific where I just barely got a seat on the overbooked plane. It was a long and miserable flight (as always), but I was very reluctant to complain as I was lucky to be there at all. It's so unlike me to do something like that. I'm usually the type of person who's very early for a flight.
I'm looking forward to Sydney in spite of the fact that we did not really give ourselves the proper time to complete the move before we go. We can unpack when we get back. I'm sure we'll hit the aquarium and zoo so we can geek out on the animal stuff, but I'm also hoping we'll catch a few bands as original live music (as opposed to cover bands) is so scarce in S'pore.

Today was for packing. We're moving over the next few days, and it's amazing how much junk we were able to accumulate in six months here. Later in the week we're off to Sydney, as the third leg of Marjorie's whirlwind tour of the continents.

Don't know what the deal with the comments is; hopefully they'll have them fixed soon.

Marjorie's back. Here's what she brought me back from the States:

The Cosmos collector's edition DVD box set. Woop!

Five bottles of wine.

The new Fountains of Wayne CD. Sounds fabbo so far.

My cool fuzzy pants, for our trip to Australia.

The Big Lebowski DVD.

A Cookie Monster t-shirt. Huh.

A Scrabble computer game (thanks, Linda!).

Various housewares for the new apartment.

My CD player.
And most importantly,

Her bad self.

These are dangerous times. I promise to be careful.

I've been playing with Google's programmer interface for some potential work projects. This is a service they provide that allows you to do Google searches from within programs you write, instead of going to their web page.

It occurred to me that I could use it to revamp my old "misspellings" page. So, here 'tis.

The Google API was amazingly easy to use. Quite a number of the queries I sent failed, for whatever reasons, but I can still see this as a handy thing to know how to use. And kinda fun.

I rule. I played bar trivia last night at Shamus O'Donnell's, all by my lonesome, and won. I had no hope on the Rugby questions and such, but cleaned up on the movie questions. I hope my wife will forgive me for missing the Beatles question ("What Beatles album features the song 'Ticket To Ride'?"). The prize was a bottle of vodka, which we surely DON'T need, as the bottle we got at Duty Free on our initial trip out here has hardly been touched.

Burgerlicious. Here's the placemat from Mos Burger where I had lunch today.

How long do you figure it'll be before McDonald's comes out with THEIR version of the squid-scallop-prawn burger with carrots and asparagus?

Notice too that the bun is made of rice. Actually, it sounds moderately edible.

Goooooaaaal! A beautiful cross; I extend my leg as far as it will go, and tuck the ball neatly into the side of the net. The keeper never had a chance.

Too bad it was our own goal.

Phooey. To add injury to insult, I stubbed my toe on the play, too.

Time to de-stinkify myself and go get some Injun food.

End of the line. I rode Singapore's new MRT line out to the bitter end, Punggol, today, just for grins. I wasn't the only explorer on the train. For one old Chinese woman it was her first time in a subway, apparently. When the train started moving she pointed at the concrete walls sliding by the window and grinned hugely, revealing rows of neglected teeth. It was really sweet, actually.

On the way out, I happened to read in Bill Bryson's "Made In America" how they used to build amusement parks at the ends of the railway lines to encourage people to use them. Well, when the train reached the end and we all got out, staring around blankly like we just got dropped off the mother ship, I realized that this wasn't so much an amusement park so much as a WHOLE LOTTA NOTHIN'. Just a treeless waste with a whole lot of featureless HDB housing highrises. It looked like Communism with a splash of orange. Why would people live out here? I walked around a bit, then headed back.

Yet another photo of me at Disney, with my mother and sibs this time. Love those glasses on my mom. My brother and sister don't look all that happy to be there.

Name-dropping. I just learned that one of the stars of C.S.I.: Crime Scene Investigation, Jorja Fox, went to my high school. While I was there, too. Earlier, she was even in the excellent Memento. Were this a proper name drop, I would right now be hinting that we used to date. As it is, I don't remember her at all.

Writing wrongs. I've been doing some proofreading of a proposal by someone whose writing skills are, shall we say, lacking. Incoherent ideas, run-on sentences, and rampantly misplaced punctuation feature prominently. I much enjoy proofreading, probably because I get to point out other people's errors. I'm generally considered a top-notch technical writer (my college professor on the subject even asked if I was looking for work). Outside of tech writing, though, I feel totally hot and cold. And lately, just cold.

When I'm writing well, the whole idea is there in my head beforehand, and the words just spill out, like I'm taking dictation. At other times, though, I just have some random collection of thoughts, and start writing anyway, hoping a common thread will pop up. Like I'm doing now.

I used to dabble in the Usenet newsgroup talk.bizarre, which is essentially a creative writing forum frequented by some extremely bright people (and plenty of dummards, to be sure). Despite the anonymous nature of the internet, participating there was often nerve-wracking (especially since many there could deliver absolutely withering put-downs). But I learned more about writing there than the sum total of my schooling ever provided.

The constant pressure to be "on", while self-imposed, is likely why I stopped visiting there. Now I'm worried that I've plateaued. Exactly in line with my guitar-playing ability, I just don't feel my writing has improved at all in the last ten years.

As a kick in the pants, I was considering entering the National Novel Writing Month this year (like this Dean character did last year). But I don't think I'll find the time. I think deep down I don't want to write a novel, I want to have written a novel.

So I guess I'm stuck where I'm at, for now. And you, my suffering readers, will have to endure.

Dish fairies. I've been known to do the dishes, as the photo I posted in the last blog will show you. However, I usually leave it to the dish fairies to put the dishes away after they dry. They seem to have been on strike lately, though, starting at around the time Marjorie went back home. Now dishes are piling up in the drying rack. What did I do to get them angry? How do you lure them back?

Awwww... My blog about Disney prompted my parents to scan in this photo of me doing the dishes when we stayed at Fort Wilderness. All that beautiful hair, *sniff*. Strange how I remember all the little details in the picture; the bowls, the dishrag, the dining canopy -- like I can still smell them.

Things that I've learned, decided, or figured out lately. The historical facts are from Bill Bryson's Made In America:

Sam Adams, of beer fame, was actually responsible for propagandizing the Boston Massacre, inciting a popular uprising, blowing the facts of the case totally out of proportion.

Starlings, those pesky little speckled black birds, were introduced to the US by a well-meaning but utterly misguided professor who was trying to populate the new world with all the birds mentioned in the works of Shakespeare.

If I ever write a newspaper column, it'll be called Mark My Words.

When I put out my best-of album, it'll be called A Fat Lot of Good.

Listening to old Built To Spill albums makes me happy.

Curry is actually not a plant. Not per se -- there is a curry plant used for its leaves, but curry like you find in most dishes is actually a mix of spices, including but not limited to pepper, ginger, garlic, coriander seed, tumeric, and cumin.

My dad is the best. Happy Father's Day, Dad...

LA Story: There's some story/legend about one's experience with L.A. based on one's first celebrity sighting here. My first LA celebrity sighting happened at dinner this evening, Jerry Springer, don't know what that means about my future with this town. He (Jerry) was in da house at Border Grill in Santa Monica (which I highly recommend by the way).
LA's a fun town. I've seen as much of the town as my hosts could pack into two and a half days. And, so far, I'm dealing with my jet lag pretty well.
Gossip for the kids: J-Lo and Ben may be married now. You heard it here first, from a potentially reliable source (could be crap though).
Also, I was privy to a phone conversation between my very good friend and Elayne Boozler (the Elayne that Julia Louis-Dreyfus' character was based on) at the Getty Center today. Pretty cool yo.
Being back in the States these past couple of days just makes me want to be here (semi-permanently) again so much more.

There are lots of foot reflexology centers in town, usually featuring a wacky sign like this showing the link between places on your feet and your various vital organs. I of course put no stock in it as a science, but I did visit one of these places on Friday night for a foot massage. They do like the rough stuff here. It was pinchy and hurty when they worked my toes, but I got more into it as the session wore on.

Learned a new term: "slurp shop". This is what they call those small food outlets specializing in noodles, where you see lines of customers crammed onto tiny tables and chairs, bent over their bowls of soup. I had a good meal last night at one of them; then, after a failed attempt at (geek alert) finding a geocache, I checked out some live music at the Singapore Street Festival, then went to watch the skateboarders for a while at the nearby public skate park. I miss that stuff. If it didn't hurt so darn much I'd still be riding...

Interesting article on the demise of cursive. Like countless others, I had cursive drilled into me for many years, all for the sake of my signature. That's honestly the only thing I've used it for since I left college twelve years ago. And my signature ain't all that.

Quote from the article:

"The letters you write to people are beautiful, and they'll cherish them forever. Have any of you ever received an e-mail that you cherished?"

Um, yes?

Why spend years grilling the kids on a practically useless skill? To appease some dewy-eyed English majors? Teach the kids to write, not to write cursive...