Can Blogging make you a better writer?

First of all you have to want to be a conscientious writer, and not just throw together a bunch of words, pictures and Youtube clips and call it a blog. Then you have to watch your spelling and use punctuation correctly. Finally, like a good essay, your blog entry should have an introduction, a body, and a conclusion.

The title of your blog entry could almost be considered an introduction, albeit an extremely brief one; Realistically though it's nothing more than the topic you're going to discuss. Your introduction will be in the first paragraph, and if you want to grab the reader's attention and hold it you need a good introduction. Although even the best introduction in the world won't hold the attention of somebody who's not interested in reading the topic about which you've chosen to blog. That doesn't mean you should shape your blog to attract readers from all walks of life. If you're blogging about thermonuclear technology because it's the field in which you work and you find it fascinating, blog about it. You'll attract like-minded readers (and the occasional anonymous poster who calls you all geeks) and you'll enjoy the discussions that evolve. That will make you want to continue writing, and the more you write the better you will get.

Basically you should strive to ensure that you have some semblance of an introduction, even a brief one, which introduces your topic or helps to grab the readers attention. The body of your blog can be as short as just one paragraph, or run on for several (or many) if the topic of choice warrants a lengthy discussion. Finally your conclusion will summarize your topic and let your readers know that they've reached the end of that particular post. Following these simple rules will make you a better writer, both as a blogger and in real life.

Shaving, and learning to live again

I prefer to shave with a blade, but during the week I can't shave in the morning unless I want to get to work late (getting up even earlier is not an option ;), so I either shave in the evening or I use my electric razor at work when I get in.

Now I don't care what Mr. Kiam promised you, no electric razor can shave as close as a blade, and I much prefer a blade shave to an electric razor shave. I'm thinking I should bring a blade to work though, because while I was halfway through my shave this morning I thought "What if the power in the building went out now?" And the answer is I'd be there with half my face still covered in stubble.

Way back in High School one of my classmates accepted a bet from a friend to not shave for a month, and by the end of that month he pretty much had a full beard. I've known a few people like that, who could shave in the morning and by the evening look like they hadn't shaved at all that day. One guy I worked with would occasionally shave off his very full mustache at the start of the week and by the end of the week would have a full mustache again. So my classmate didn't shave for a month, but when it came time to pay up his friend offered to double the bet if my classmate would shave off half his beard and leave it like that for a week. I think that might have been his cunning plan all along, but he needed my classmate to have a full beard to pull it off. I think the wager was $50, doubled to $100, which was a lot of money to a 16 year old in the mid '80s, so my classmate accepted and for the rest of the week he wore half a beard.

I'd rather not have half a beard at work, even for a day, so I think I'll bring a blade razor in to work, just in case. Maybe I'll shave with it, too, instead of the electric. Because I normally use a blade my face doesn't like the electric razor, so it feels all hot and itchy for a while, even after using an Aftershave Moisturizing Balm

"A balm? Quick, throw it in the trough!" Obscure Monty Python Reference :)

- - -

So I've been feeling rather melancholy as of late. That's usually what happens when my old life resurfaces and reminds me of what I left behind. When my Uncle said he'd told my Dad about JE (3 years ago when he last visited Australia), Dad had said it wasn't fair, meaning we were over here and he was there, and he rarely got to see me or my son (in fact only once in 2001). My Uncle agreed but reminded Dad of his own situation. My Uncle lives in Cleveland with his youngest of two daughters. His older daughter lives in Melbourne, Australia, and has five children. My Uncle has never seen three of his own grandchildren.

That's one of the things that tears me up over my Dad, how he never got to see my daughter. Sure he saw her pictures but he never got to see her or hold her. And it's not fair, but sometimes that's just the way life is. And this is something I really need to come to terms with, before I can get over my father's death. Nine years ago I made the choice to leave my old family behind, move 10,000 miles away, and start a new life with my wife and her family. I didn't have to make that choice, but in a way, I also feel like I had no choice; it was just something I had to do, because living the rest of my life without Liz was not an option. I also still need to come to terms with that as well. Yes, nine years later I still have not fully accepted that decision, but I'm here now, I'm here to stay, and that's not going to change, so I need to accept it.

It only occurred to me later that talking to my Uncle was like preaching to the choir. Everything I'm going through, he's already done. He also left his two teenage daughters behind and moved to another country to be with his new wife, although his younger daughter later followed him. I told my Uncle that Liz and I sometimes talked of retiring to Australia, but I really can't see that happening. How can you move to another country and leave your children and grandchildren behind? I said to my Uncle. Well, he never sees his grandchildren (his younger daughter doesn't have kids) because they live in another country. The only way we'll retire to Australia is when JE and Amber get older if they say they want to go live in Australia, and we'll follow them.

I'm writing this down here because while my Blog is accessible to the general public, I don't always write for you; I sometimes write for me. Putting my thoughts down in writing helps me get them straightened out. This is a decision making process I use, because with everything written down I can clearly see what my choices are and the benefits from each choice, and more often than not I'll know what I plan to do before I even finish writing.

In putting something down in writing it also helps me come to terms with the situation, because I'm forced to confront it. There's no ignoring it, no pretending the problem doesn't exist. It's here, it's real, and I must deal with it because it's not going away until I confront it.

The first time I wrote this I teared up writing about my father never getting the chance to hold my daughter. That still makes me sad, writing this now, but after rereading what I wrote I'm more at peace with it. I've begun to accept it. I miss my Dad, a lot. I will always miss him. I also still miss Jonno, my best friend who died over 15 years ago at the too young age of 19. But I long ago came to terms with Jonno's death, although visiting his grave would still bring me to tears. That's only human, to mourn the ones we love. And it's human to move through your grief, then beyond it, and accept the death of your loved ones and resume living your own life. It's not long ago that my father died, only two years ago in fact, almost to the day. It took me quite some time to get over Jonno's death, or rather, learn how to live my life without my best friend there by my side. While I've been living the last nine years of my life without any of my family here, they've always been no more than a phone call away. Everyone is still just a phone call away, except for my Dad. Had to pause there to regain my composure. I really shouldn't be writing this at work but I just feel I need to get it out now, right this minute. It's like I'm at a pivotal stage of my grief, and getting this down right now is going to help me tremendously.

I honestly don't think I'll ever "get over" my Dad's death, instead I'll learn how to live my life without him. This is like the decision I made (and didn't make) nine years ago. I will learn how to live my life without my father, because the alternative is not an option.

The weekend in review

Friday morning was Liz's first big day out, other than post-op check-ups. First we dropped JE at school then it was off to LAX to pick up my Uncle and his wife...I guess even though she's his second wife she's still my Aunty, she just doesn't like us calling her Aunty, so it's usually Uncle Peter and Pat.

Due to their flight leaving Tullamarine late we were actually pretty much right on time to pick them up, even though we were late getting there, too. As I swung around the corner passed Tom Bradley in the left lane, heading for the parking lot, Liz looked over at Terminal 4 and said "Isn't that them?"

One glance to my right was all I needed and I did a blockie around the parking structure, cut a couple of other cars off and was shortly pulling up in front of my father's youngest brother.

The 15-hour flight was taking its toll upon Uncle Peter and Pat, but they were determined to tough it out and get back on US schedule, so after lunch I suggested a game of cards. Cribbage was Uncle Peter's game of choice, so I hunted down our Cribbage board and a full deck of cards and we played the afternoon away. Pat, who'd been teasing Uncle Peter about him nodding off, decided to rest her eyes a bit on the sofa and she was soon snoring away and talking in her sleep. JE came down and wanted to play, so with the first game finished we dealt him in (it was a 3-player board) and with us helping him (and me not making 15 pts when I could have) JE won the very first game of Cribbage he's ever played. But the waterworks I was avoiding by letting JE win still appeared when he said he wanted to play something else, and Uncle Peter and I said we were going to play some more Cribbage. They shut off pretty quick though, and we shortly heard him pottering about upstairs with some game or another.

Saturday morning we were all up pretty early. JE and I took Uncle Peter and Pat back out to LAX then raced off to his first T-ball game. On the 105, close to the 605, the gas light came on, but I figured we had enough to get us to JE's school where I thought his first game was. Little did I know that the route I was taking to get us there took us within two blocks of the actual location of his game, and that we would have been on time if I'd double checked the location before leaving.

We arrived at the school, got JE's cleats on, raced down to the baseball field to find the Dodgers and the Red Socks warming up for their game...not the Blue Jays. Oh boy. Time to get gas and find out where we needed to be. So ignoring a popular Urban Legend, while pumping gas I was on my cell phone finding out where we needed to be and how to get there.

We arrived just in time for JE to take his turn at bat (I think we missed the 1st Innings) and the game was on. I also scored a Blue Jays cap of my own (courtesy of the league), and with my new cap and navy blue t-shirt I pretty much looked the part of an Assistant Coach. The game was a lot of fun, some of the kids showed a lot of promise, one of the Angels (opposing team) made a catch but promptly dropped it, and every kid got to bat once during each Innings and run round the bases, even if they got run out, or struck out. How does one get struck out in T-ball? Simple, really. Swing and hit the tee three times, or not hit the ball further than 25 feet, and you're Out. But with this being a Just For Fun League there were no Outs. Highlight of the game was definitely one of our boys hitting the ball over everyone's heads and into the outfield. Highlight of the game for the kids was getting a Snackbar ticket after the game, entitling everyone to some candy and a soda.

After dropping JE with the in-laws the rest of the weekend was pretty uneventful, and by Monday Liz was feeling good enough that 5am saw me getting up and getting ready to return to work.

T-Ball, week 2

Today was the first day of what is promising to be a very hectic weekend, if your weekend started on a Thursday, which mine doesn't, but sort of did, but let's skip the semantics coz it's not important.

This week has been 1/2 day week at JE's school, so he got off school today at 12:25pm. I picked him up, we grabbed some food at the local Chinese Food Court and headed home. At 3:30pm we tootled off to T-Ball practice and arrived right on time on account of someone choosing to have an accident 2 blocks from the field, which required the presence of a large Fire Truck with flashing lights, which meant the rush hour traffic felt compelled to slow right down and rubber-neck as they drove past.

We arrived at T-Ball practice in time to field some hits from Coach Jesse, then it was warm-up and stretch time, and I'm glad we did that, because then we split into two groups. One group hit the outfield and practiced catching, while Coach Jesse's group stayed in the diamond (along with yours truly) and practiced batting.

Now some of the kids were typical 6-year olders and I pretty much ran around between the pitcher's plate and home plate fielding little flubs of hits, but some of the other kids were batting machines. These kids had me running into the outfield as they belted balls all over the place. And it wasn't a fluke. For some of the kids a big hit was, but two or three of our kids can hit the ball, and I mean HIT it, consistently. One of the kids belted line drive after line drive and I barely had to move a step as he hit the ball straight to me time after time. Remember I said I was glad we warmed up earlier? I'm sitting here typing this and I feel like I'm 5 years younger, like when I still used to play football because my legs are SORE! I weighed myself after my shower and the scales tried to tell me I'm 191.8 lbs. I'm not sure whether or not to believe them because that's getting darn close to my High School weight again. But I'm glad I'm not still carrying around those extra 15 lbs I've somehow lost over the last few weeks or I'd probably be even more sore.

Practice ran for 1 1/2 hours (including a mini-game) so we raced home, stopping for food on the way, ate, changed, then headed back out to our Boy Scout meeting, dropping A. with the in-laws on the way. Around 8:30pm we were finally back home again but I still couldn't sit down and relax. After a shower I got JE into bed, read him a story, then had to change the sheets on his bed because my Uncle is staying with us tomorrow night before flying on to Cleveland so we're putting him in JE's bed (a Queen) while JE is sleeping in A.'s bed, A. is staying with the in-laws for the next 2 nights. Saturday morning I have to get up early to take my Uncle back to LAX then JE and I have to race back to Arcadia for our very first T-Ball game at 9am. After that I might be able to relax, maybe :P

For some reason I was thinking this evening about what my life would be like if I hadn't met Liz, and the chain of events would quite possibly have been something like this:

Lived with parents from '98 to '05 until Dad passed away. Continued to live with Mum keeping her company until '06 when she met her new man. Bought Mum's house off her in '07 when she remarried and moved out, then lived in the house I grew up in for the rest of my life, all alone, coz everyone left but me. Strangely, real life is almost exactly the opposite. Little sis and her husband currently live next door to Mum, or they will until Mum moves out later this year, when she remarries and moves in with her new husband. Older sis initially bought a house around the corner and later moved to Melbourne. Me, I met a girl and moved halfway around the world.

Life is strange, sometimes.

Ashamed of WoW?

For some reason I try not to Blog about what I do in WoW, maybe because I want this to be a Blog about me, and not a What I did in WoW Blog...but maybe it's also because I, like many others, am perhaps embarrassed to admit that I spend a lot of my leisure time pretending to be a Dwarven Hunter running around a virtual world accompanied by my pet Pig.



That's not to say everyone who plays WoW is also playing a Dwarven Hunter with a pet Pig, but there does appear to be quite a few people embarrassed to admit that they spend a lot of their leisure time playing a computer game.

WoW Insider wrote a very short article on this topic, and asked for readers' comments, and some of the comments were very interesting, very interesting indeed.

In my opinion the most thought provoking comment, if you follow the above link, was #9 by Mekias:

"The weirdest thing is that, at one point, I was obsessed with internet poker. I got less hassle from people about the poker than I do about WoW. In fact, most people wanted to know my strategies and tips on how to play poker.

How is it that a gambling addiction is somehow cool and playing an MMORPG is considered pathetic?"

Now I'm still not going to turn my Blog into a "What I did in WoW Blog" because that would be boring. "Today I killed 53 Kobolds and looted 10g and 3 stacks of Linen Cloth. One of the Kobolds had an Uber Hammer of Thumpiness which I later sold to a Paladin for 25g! After that I sat on the pier at Steamwheedle Port and fished for two hours, maxing out my Fishing Skill."

Yah, enthralling stuff, but that's pretty much what I do, in-game. I also chat with my Guildmates, either in-game or via my headset and a VOIP program, and sometimes I Raid a Dungeon (called an Instance by WoWers) with them.

If I were to turn this Blog into a What I did in WoW Blog, it would be much the same thing, day after day.

Now I also have a coworker who is hooked on one of his X-Box Live games. I'm not sure what one, but he apparently spends a lot of his leisure time playing that game, too. So sometimes we'll talk games because he knows I play WoW, a lot, and I know he plays his game, a lot. But strangely enough we both seem to get a little embarrassed if someone walks past and overhears us.

As Mekias said, why is it socially acceptable to have an online gambling addiction, but playing video games is not?

*Edit*
Here's a better picture of my pig, "Cyboarg".

Public Service Announcement

More directed to the guys than anyone else, coz almost all women are already aware of this, and it's probably not relevant to all guys, especially those living by themselves, but to those guys who may become a Mr. Mom, this one's for you.

You may already be aware that laundry consists of coloreds and whites, but there's actually one more category; pinks.

I spent most of this weekend doing laundry and I decided that just to play it safe, anything in a pink or purple shade was getting washed separately, that is, with the other pink or purple clothing. Now all the laundry is done, although that phrase is never accurate because there's always more laundry.

I'm getting the hang of getting the kids off to school in the morning, but my hat is still off to all of you mothers and Mr. Moms who do this all the time. In a week (or two) Liz will be up and about and able to resume doing this herself, and I'll go back to getting up 2 hours earlier and once again being responsible for getting only myself ready for work. I've had it slightly easier than most mothers and Mr. Moms in that I've been able to work from home, but I've also had it a little tougher in that I've also had to take care of Liz, and this is where I salute those people who dedicate their lives to taking care of other people; the Nurses and Professional Caregivers.

These past few weeks have been an eye opening experience and I simply cannot imagine making the decision to look after someone (who's not even a relative) every day of their life, and yet that's what Professional Caregivers do. In some cases they even move in with their charge so if their services are needed in the middle of the night, they're there. Every minute of their day is spent taking care of someone else, feeding them, washing them, doing their laundry, etc. I know there are a few bad apples in the bunch who take advantage of their charges, robbing them or weaseling their way into the Will, but most Professional Caregivers are Angels on Earth. I belong in the Customer Service field, it's what I love doing, but dedicated Professional Caregivers take Customer Service to a whole different level. They're not just at the PGA level of Customer Service, they are the Jack Nicklaus, Arnold Palmer and Tiger Woods of Customer Service. And I can't give any higher praise than that.

Sometimes it's scary...

how smart my wife is. I don't think I'm giving her too much credit, I think she really is this smart.

We signed our son up for T-Ball and today I took him to his first practice session. We got there a little early because we went straight there from school. Actually we went to the local second-hand book store first where I was unable to find Books 2 & 3 of the Icewind Dale Trilogy, but we did pick up a couple of books for JE. Then we went to T-Ball, but we were still early, like close to an hour early.

We threw the ball back & forth for a bit then JE needed to use the restroom, which was a good 1/4 mile away, on the other side of the tennis courts. We took the long way back past the big baseball diamond and discovered that while there were closer restrooms to our baseball diamond, those closer restrooms were sealed shut. Not just locked, but they had plywood nailed across the doorways.

We arrived back at the smaller baseball diamond with a few minutes to go to Practice Start Time and discovered the Coach had arrived, so JE put his glove back on and took the field. One by one the rest of the kids and parents arrived and finally we had a full T-Ball team. While the Assistant Coach kept the kids busy the Coach came and spoke to the parents about how T-Ball isn't just for the kids, but that if we all get involved it makes the season a lot more fun for everyone, kids and parents alike. So when the Coach resumed practice with the kids, several fathers, led by yours truly, took the field with him...and despite knowing very little about America's National Pastime I somehow became 1st base Coach, which means when the kids run from home plate to 1st base I'm there to shout encouragement to them, or make sure they run from 1st to 2nd base when it comes time to do just that.

Despite already being a Tiger Cub Scout leader, out of the last eight years of being in America this one hour of T-ball practice somehow made me feel more like I belonged than anything else. Not even playing Aussie Rules for the L.A. Crows gave me this feeling. While I did make a Very Good Friend playing Aussie Rules, playing the game here in the States seemed more like trying to regain something I left behind; Taking part in T-ball somehow just felt "right".

Maybe I'm giving my wife too much credit, but I doubt it. Somehow I think she signed JE up for T-ball knowing that it wasn't just going to be good for him, but good for me as well.

Good friends, and really good friends

A good friend will bail you out of jail the next morning.
A really good friend would have been sitting next to you saying, "That was freaking awesome!"

A good friend will help you move.
A really good friend will help you move a body.

Sometimes in our lives we get thrown curve balls, and it's times like those that we discover that some of our good friends are really good friends. Now I don't mean I just spent the weekend in jail, or was busy moving a body ;)

One summer, a long time ago, I discovered I had a really good friend, who chose to spend most of his summer break (away from work) with me.

A couple of years ago at one of the darkest times of my life I needed another really good friend.

And this weekend life threw us another curve ball and another really good friend was there for me and the wife when we really needed her.

Sometimes we ignore our friends, even our good friends, even our really good friends. What makes a really good friend though is that they will still always be there for you when you need them.

Dinner, and a show

I met Liz and the kids for dinner at Souplantation last night, and after we'd sat down at our table another young family sat down at the next table over. Their two kids were perhaps a year or so younger than ours, but they were also there with Nan and Pop. Dad set their littlest one up in a high chair and Pop took the seat next to her, and at one point I glanced over to see Pop give his baby granddaughter an affectionate pat.

This really got to me and I looked away but the damage was already done. In fact looking away made things worse because now I was looking at my own daughter whose Pop never got to see her or hold her before he died.

The tears welled up and I hung on to them as hard as I could but my son who was sitting next to me was quick to notice and he asked why I was crying. I told him I wasn't but he could see quite clearly that I was, or at least trying not to and failing miserably. He insisted that I was crying and when Liz told him to be quiet he got upset and turned away. So I grabbed him and pulled him close while he tried to pull away and I gave his hair a scruffing. When I stopped he asked me to do it again, so I did and it made us both feel better.

Then Liz asked me why I'd been crying and before I could attempt to explain the tears welled up again. "No, don't tell me now," she said.

Well dear, now you know why.

Now I remember

why I hate Norton and Symantec. On my old PC I'd been using a free version of AVG Antivirus, but my new PC came with a subscription to Norton Internet Security, so I've been using that instead and it's a real pain in the arse.

It has these Alerts that pop up to tell me "Hey, there's a problem. Do you want me to fix it?" So I click on Fix it.

A few second later an Alert pops up to tell me the problem is being fixed. I click on Close and the Alert disappears.

A few seconds later an Alert pops up to tell me the problem it told me about earlier is being fixed.

Ahh yeah, I know. I told you to fix it, and you've already alerted me that it's being fixed. Now, Close!

A few seconds later an Alert pops up. "Hey, you know that problem? We're fixing it."

Shut the fuck up!!! Just fix the damn problem and stop telling me you're fixing it!!!

A few seconds later an Alert pops up. "We fixed that problem we told you about."

Great. Now go away.

A few seconds later an Alert pops up. "Everything is working just fine now."

FUCK OFF!!!!!

I don't care that I have a free 1-year susbcription to Norton which is worth (if you can believe Symantec) about $60, or that AVG is now a pay-service, much like Norton, and costs about the same for a 1-year subscription. AVG was never this fucking annoying. I'm just about ready to uninstall Norton and forgo the 1-year subscription.

Why don't I close the program? Because if I do that, an Alert pops up telling me there's a problem that needs fixing. If I click Fix it, Norton starts everything back up again.

Now excuse me, but Norton is telling me I need to restart my PC or the world will be destroyed.

Another one of "those" Bus Drivers

I like to rant here because if I file an e-complaint with the MTA I don't get any response or feedback from them. It's like I wasted my time even filling out their e-form, and if I call I'll just be on hold for 20 minutes before hearing a message along the lines of "We're sorry, all operators are busy. Please call again later. Click." o_O seriously WTF?

This morning I got to the station a little later than usual, so the bus I caught was not being driven by a driver I know. As if it wasn't enough that I was already a few minutes late, then we have problems on the Freeway. An accident, whatever, I don't know. We sat there in traffic for a while, stop-go, stop-go, stop-go, you know the routine. I'm glad I had a good book with me. Then the other buses started passing us using the emergency lane. A fellow passenger called out "Follow those buses!" but out guy stayed in the express lane, stop-go, stop-go, stop-go. With the result that my 30 minute bus ride took over an hour this morning.

Finally we made it into downtown. At 11th St. a passenger got off and as soon as the bus pulled away from the curb I rang the bell for the next stop and stood up. I thought I heard the driver say "Next stop is Pico," which is after 12th St. So I walked to the front and told the driver I wanted 12th St., which is something I usually do anyway, even with my regular drivers.

Next stop is Pico, the driver repeated.

I told him the other bus drivers let me off there all the time.

He gestured at the construction that's going on, and which has been there for over 12 months now, as if that was the argument clincher. I said I usually get let off on the other side of the intersection, across from the construction.

Mr. Bus Driver, when almost every other driver I've ridden with has let me off at 12th St., construction or no construction, don't go thinking you're any different or that I'll back down. The only way I'm not getting off at 12th St. is if you refuse to stop there.

When it became obvious that he was going to stop at 12th I thanked him. I am not an inconsiderate rider. He's obviously an inconsiderate driver though. Next time it's Pico, he said, as he pulled up. I thanked him again and wished him a nice day as I left the bus. I may not be inconsiderate, but I can be condescending when I choose.

Then next time I'll get off at 11th, I said to myself as I walked away, especially if you're driving. It might be one block earlier than the stop I want, as opposed to one stop after my desired stop, but the difference is I'm getting off at the stop of my choice, not where you choose to let me off. I win. It's that simple.

In reality 12th St. is a scheduled stop, and a majority of the drivers will still stop there on the other side of the road, especially if you tell them in advance that you want the 12th St. stop. The only reason they won't stop at 12th St., especially after a rider asks them to stop there, is because they're a jerk. Unfortunately you meet jerks in all walks of life, whether you're walking or riding the bus.

Irrelevant, if you don't WoW

The male Dranei dance in WoW borrows heavily from Daler Mehndi & Co's "Tunak Tunak Tun" music video. Unless you WoW this post means nothing to you. If you do WoW and you've /danced on your male Dranei, watch the clip all the way through and you will recognize some of the moves, especially around the 1-minute mark of the clip.



And if you don't WoW, here's a Youtube of the male Dranei dance set to...why, goodness me, it's set to Daler Mehndi's Tunak Tunak Tun :D

My son...and my other son

Last night I took my son and his friend (as Tiger Cub Scouts) to a local Fire Station, where they saw lots of cool stuff, including a Thermal Imager which allows the Fire Fighters to find people inside smoke filled buildings. The Fire Fighters turned the TI on me and asked the two boys who they could see. JE's friend excitedly exclaimed, "my dad!"

This is actually not the first time he's referred to me as such, and given the situation he's living in it's not that surprising, either. JE's friend is Chinese. He lives with his mother and his older sister while his real father lives in China. This is not that uncommon for Chinese families to do. My wife used to work with another lady who lived here with her son while her husband lived and worked in China, and they'd see each other for a week or so every couple of months. JE's friend is also not the only one in their class in this situation. Now me, I can't imagine living away from my family and only seeing them for a week or two every couple of months, if that.

Being Chinese JE's friend's first language is, naturally enough, Chinese, which brings communication differences into the equation. I know that when translated literally some Chinese phrases can become quite humorous, although their intention can still be deciphered. I'm rather ticklish, and sometimes my wife likes to take advantage of that. She was tickling me at her parents' house one time (a particularly sensitive place to be tickled) when her mom asked if I was "scared of tickle". Which really does make sense but is still amusing to hear it said :)

The Chinese language also has different names for paternal and maternal grandparents. If you're the grandparents on the mother's side you'll always be called Abu and Goong-goong, although Liz's Dad actually gets Doong-doong because JE couldn't pronounce the initial G and the name just stuck. Even the FIL refers to himself as Doong-doong, which got him strange looks from the Chinese kids at JE's school because while Goong-goong is "Grandpa on mama's side", Doong-doong doesn't mean a thing.

The Chinese also have words/names for people not related to you, so rather than calling an elderly lady "Hey, you!" or "Old woman", you can actually call her something respectable. It's something akin to Grandmother although it's not the same name you'd use for either of your biological grandmothers. It still means Old Woman, it's just a polite way of saying it ;)

So, coming full circle, JE's friend saying I'm his Dad does not mean he thinks I'm his father (although he sees me more than he does his real father), but is nothing more than him translating a Chinese word for father-figure into its closest English expression. I'm sure it sounds strange to onlookers though, to see the distinctly Chinese boy calling this very white man "Dad". The first time it happened JE got a little upset that his friend appeared to be laying claim to me, but last night he either missed it or didn't care. I don't know what the three white Fire Fighters thought, especially as it had already been established that JE was my son.

My daughter is currently doing a very similar thing, not in calling us Mum and Dad, which we are, but in laying claim to us. When Liz's cousin & her family visited a few weeks ago their little boy (who is around our daughter's age) came up and gave me a hug. Our daughter saw this and ran up to me, screaming "Mine!" Funnily enough she doesn't just do this to strangers but does it to her own brother. If she's hugging or cuddling with us JE cannot come near, or she gets very possessive. Likewise if we're getting cuddles from JE, she will again do her "Mine!" routine. We explain that we're also JE's mummy and daddy, and she does use the Chinese word for "big brother" to describe JE (I'm not sure how to spell it, but it's pronounced by saying a hard G twice in quick succession) so she knows that JE is her big brother, but we're her mummy & daddy, and you better not forget it!

American Idol...NOT!!!

Liz watched the auditions for American Idol last night. In case you missed it, it wasn't just auditions, there were also interviews with the candidates prior to their audition. Man, I hope most of the interviews were rehearsed, or the candidates were actually paid actors or something, because most of them were terrible and had absolutely no business trying out for Idol.

I can carry a tune, and I have a good singing voice, but I would not try out for American Idol because I'm too old for starters, and I'm also not good looking enough. That doesn't mean an American Idol has to be young and gorgeous, but they at least have to be easy on the eyes. And let's face it, if you think of "American Idols" the names that probably come to mind are Justin, Britney, Christina, etc. The most popular main-stream artists of today are almost all good looking (to some degree). Unattractive people who cannot carry a tune and do not have good singing voices should not be trying out for American Idol.

One guy tried to sing Unchained Melody. I can't even sing Unchained Melody. You've got wicked high notes in there, but in his pre-audition interview this guy bragged about being able to hit the high notes that nobody else could. First of all he started off high, and the song only gets higher as it goes on, but this guy didn't get any higher he just got more painful to listen to.

Another guy was actually able to carry a tune and he hit almost all the right notes (I forget what song he sang), but he had a terrible voice. He was still easier to listen to than Mr. Unchained Melody because at least he could sing.

But don't these people have friends. Why didn't someone tell them "American Idol? Dude! Don't do it!"

Something else I hope was staged (edited in ipso facto) were the reactions of Simon, Paula and Randy during these awful auditions. Smirking, giggling, laughing. Very unprofessional. But then if the Simon just stopped the audition and said, "Thanks, but no thanks" that wouldn't make for good TV, would it. Far better is to show someone simply butchering a song then show the panel covering their mouths with their hands as they try not to crack up at how dreadful the person is.

I think I just empathize with the applicants too much, even as I suffer from their horrible singing. Nobody deserves to be made fun of...except for Mr. Unchained Melody, who not only seemed to think he had what it takes to be the next American Idol but was extremely arrogant about it. Dude, you can't sing. Next!

Mogs, this one's for you

Why does One plus One equal Two? The answer is not because it does, but because we're told it does.

One is merely the name we've assigned to a single unit, and two is the name we've given to a single unit and another single unit. It could have just as easily been the other way around, like so:
O is two
O O is one
O + O = O O
=> two + two = one

And it would be correct because that's the way it is. One and Two could have been assigned the other way around. One only means one because that's what we're told it means. I bet you had a hard time looking at and reading that example. I know I did, because it flies in the face of everything we believe to be true, but the only reason we believe it to be true is because we've been told, almost since birth, that it is true.

Centuries ago people believed the earth was flat. It was an indisputable fact. The earth is flat. Everyone believed it was so because everyone else said it was, so it must be true...and then it wasn't.

The sky is not blue. The sky is the color that we have been told since birth is blue. I'm guilty of this myself. My daughter holds up a blue spoon. If she says it's blue, I say yes, good job. If she says it's another color, I correct her, but all I'm doing is reinforcing what I was taught when I was younger, and what I now believe to be true.

What if apples were blue? I don't mean blue like the sky, I mean what if the name for the color of an apple was blue. And the name for the color of the sky was red. Not just when the sun is setting, but imagine looking at the sky and saying, the sky is such a beautiful shade of red today.

Somewhere along the way someone decided that the word to describe the color of an apple would be red, and the word to describe the color of the sky would be blue. That's not the names of the colors, those are just the names "someone" chose to give them and everyone else just followed along, like sheep, which are only white because that's the name we've assigned to that particular shade ;)

A problem? Moi?

Hee hee ;)

If you think I've got a problem that I felt compelled to install WoW on my son's PC (I didn't kick him off, he was at the grandparents' house all weekend) because my PC wouldn't work, then I wonder how you feel when I say it's currently 12:20am and I just got back from Gamestop where I picked up the WoW Expansion Pack. Yes, at midnight I joined approx. 30 other people at my local computer games store, in the freezing cold (and temperatures have indeed been below freezing here at night), just to get an expansion pack for my favorite game :D

And yes, I'm installing said expansion pack as I write this :D

Wow! (pun intended, read on ;)

For the second time in two days I find myself installing the World of Warcraft from scratch, including the downloading of several patches, some of which are close to 500Mb in size.

With the Burning Crusades expansion coming out tomorrow night (technically Tuesday morning at 1 minute past midnight ;) I was seriously attempting to upgrade my computer. At the very least I needed substantially more hard drive space as the 7Gig free on my 40Gig hard drive just wasn't going to cut it.

Remember a few months back when I tried to dual drive my system and it refused to boot back up for me until I'd left it alone to sulk? Well, neither I nor it learned our lessons. I decided to go the route of an external hard drive, like those cute little flash drives you can buy, but this external hard drive is a little bigger. About the size of two 1"-thick sandwiches laid side-by-side. But when I got the external hard drive home I discovered I'd bought a Firewire only version, and my PC does not have any Firewire sockets, so I ordered a PCI-Firewire card from Newegg.com which arrived Friday night.

Saturday morning I got up, cracked open my PC and installed the PCI-Firewire card, then booted back up. The lights came on, drives whirred, keyboard lights came on, but on my 19" LCD screen there was nothing. I turned it on and off and the LCD said "I got nothin'!" actually it said "No Signal" but that's essentially the same thing.

Several times I tried rebooting, both with and without the Firewire card, all to no avail. Then I decided to try my old ATI Radeon 9600XT video card, on the off chance it was my new NVidia 6200, and my system booted up. Of course it did so after I'd removed the Firewire card. So I powered down, reinstalled the Firewire card, booted back up and...nothing. What the F**K?!?! Seriously. What the F**K?!?!

I reinstalled my old video card, and still had nothing.

I pretty much spent all day (except for a few errands Liz and I ran) trying to get my computer working (again) with a larger hard drive, and now I not only didn't have a larger hard drive, I didn't even have a computer, period.

I finally gave up and played a bit of Super Mario on JE's DS and decided to unlock World 7 for him, which involved going into World 4, which is when I discovered he'd bypassed World 4 and gone straight from World 3 to 5, so I had to do several levels of World 4 and in fact ended up completing it, World 4, that is; I'm up to the final castle (I think) in World 8, but haven't been able to get passed Bowser to drop him into the fiery pits of hell and save Princess Peach (hey, Peachy-baby? Heard of women's lib? Heard of equal rights? Heard of empowerment? Do you like being a permanent victim? Geez, woman. How about next time Bowser (or Baby Bowser) comes to kidnap you, you punch him in the nose like we've seen you do in Super Smash Bros. Melee! Er...sorry, got carried away there).

Then I decided that seeing as my old ATI video card was working, and JE's PC had an AGP slot, I'd give JE a new video card, which I did, and his computer booted up just fine & dandy. (Why his, Lord? Why not mine?). Then I figured that seeing as his computer now had a turbo-charged video card in it, I might as well install World of Warcraft, which I did. Then I had to download the patches. Five of them, I think. Totalling close to 2Gig in size by the time they'd all downloaded, with installations taking 10 minutes (or longer) between each download. From the time I inserted the first disk to the time I was finally able to log into WoW and not need to download a new patch I think it was 3 hours, maybe even 4.

I was able to play WoW on JE's PC, but it was nothing like WoW on mine. I still ended up PvPing in the Battlegrounds and earned 2/3 of the Honor Marks I need for my Tiger Mount. I play a Dwarven Hunter in WoW but I love Tigers. Unfortunately it's the lanky, pansy Night Elves who get to ride Tigers; Dwarves have Battle Rams for their Racial Mount. I have a Battle Ram, and I like him, but anyone who knows me knows I love Tigers, so I simply must have a Tiger mount for my Dwarf as well. PvP was interesting, to say the least. While JE's PC will run WoW, it's not an optimal machine for such an activity. Several times I logged into the Warsong Gulch battleground, and before my own character had loaded and I could see what was going on, I was dead. Other times I'd get in just fine, and then I'd mooch around on the roof of the Alliance Base. I pretended I was on defense, and I sort of was, but I wasn't being very good at it. I still managed to take out a few of the Horde players, earning my Dwarf a few Honorable Kills (for shooting someone in the back from a ledge high up above them where they couldn't see me unless they were looking up there ;)

Liz laughed that I wasn't able to take an evening off from playing WoW, but of course she was there on her PC playing her Age of Empires III ;) To me WoW is not just a game; like most MMORPGs it's a social experience. I've made a lot of online friends playing WoW so often I log in not just to play the game, but to chat with people. One of my oldest friends in WoW got his account hacked several months ago and lost a lot of the items he'd acquired over the last year or so. He pretty much quit playing while Blizzard looked into replacing his items, but his case was not successful, and he's only logged in once or twice in the last 5 to 6 months. I was amazed at how much I missed him, especially when he logged in last week and I was able to chat briefly with him. He logged out shortly afterwards though. Having his items sold (stolen & the gold sent to the thieves account) but never restored has greatly reduced his enjoyment of the game, and he couldn't stand to be logged on, staring at his naked character. I can't really blame him. I know of a few people that this has happened to, and the word they've used to describe logging in and finding their characters naked and their items sold is Violated. As ridiculous as that might sound, you invest a lot of time in your online character, so it really would be greatly disturbing to log in one day and find that someone else has been on your character, sold all of the gear that you've spent months, if not years acquiring, then sent themselves the gold they got from selling your gear (which would actually go to a temporary account before being sent on to a real account with the temp account then being deleted, yes, virtual money laundering).

So, all of that, to say that this morning Liz and I went to Fry's to check out new computers for me. The computer we were interested in was not available, we were there barely 30 mins after the store opened and they claimed to have sold out of that particular model. I think it was a classic (illegal) bait & switch, but as the PC I ended up getting was considerably better than the PC I was interested in, I'm not unhappy that I couldn't buy my initial choice.

I decided not to install my old hard drive in the new PC, not even to make it a dual drive, which means I pretty much have nothing on this computer. I had to download Firefox and reinstall WoW, again, as I said, for the second time in two days. This time I went to a third party site where the patches downloaded considerably faster, so I've now installed and full updated WoW in approx. 2 hours.

After visiting Fry's we went on to Burlington Coat Factory where Liz was shopping for my mum. Actually she was shopping for the flower girls for my mum's wedding later this year. We ended up tootling around most of the day, visited a second Burlington's :P then on to Marshall's, which is next door to Trader Joe's which is where I get my Weetabix breakfast cereal. We even stopped at Daphne's, which makes pretty good Greek fast food that is almost as good as what you'd get in a real Greek restaurant.

Today has been a funny day. It started out bloody cold. When I logged in to Liz's PC around 8:30am it was a few degrees above freezing. The day ended up getting so warm that we discarded the coats and sweaters we'd needed when we set out on our travels, but now, at 7:20pm, it's once again a few degrees above freezing. My new PC is no help. The old PC used to be a toasty, warm little box and despite being on the northern side of our house our Family Room was still often one of the warmest, but now it's bloody COLD!

Liz just had the awesome idea of sending out for spicy Malaysian food. Unfortunately that means she's sending me out, into the cold, to get the food. Wish me luck!

Public Service Announcement

This is my cousin, Toni. Other than her father (my dad's youngest brother) she is my only blood relative here in the States.



On Saturday March 17th, 2007 (St. Patrick's Day) Toni will be getting her head shaved in an effort to raise money for St. Baldrick's, which helps kids with cancer. I don't know if she's going to go the full Sinead O'Connor or just the Natalie Portman buzz-cut look. I know I have a lot of readers out there that just read my blog but never (or rarely) leave comments, so I figure this will reach a good number of people. Maybe some of you will go to Toni's page and donate some money...maybe if you live in the Cleveland, OH area it might even inspire you to do the same as Toni ;)

I'm impressed that my little cousin is willing to do this, but then she's a Pattison and we (foolishly) never back down from a challenge, so I'm sure it took nothing more than someone telling her she wouldn't dare get her head shaved, not even for charity ;)

It was unprofessional

but understandable, and totally appreciated.

There were about 6 of us waiting in line for the bus at the Bus Station this morning. Also waiting for the bus, but thankfully not in line, was the odiferous Mr. Flip-Flops. Have I mentioned him before? He's what drove me from my usual seat, 2nd on the right, to a little further down the back of the bus, by the mere act of taking the seat (both of them) immediately in front of me.

I've named him Mr. Flip-Flops because I don't want to be as offensive as he is because he always wears Flip Flops (or thongs, as Aussies call them). Although white, Mr. Flip-Flops feet are almost black. We can see this because, as I said, he always wears Flip Flops. Every day. Without fail. Thankfully Mr. Flip-Flops always sits on a bench a short way from the line waiting for the bus, because in case I didn't mention it, to put it bluntly, Mr. Flip-Flops stinks. He stinks like someone who hasn't had a bath or shower this century, but I've seen people in downtown Los Angles who clearly haven't had baths this century, and Mr. Flip-Flops doesn't look like them. His feet do, but he doesn't, so perhaps he has a "condition" that makes him smell that bad.

A week or two ago Mr. Flip-Flops boarded our bus and sat down in what had become his usual seat, but by now I'd claimed a new, usual seat so I didn't care, until the bus driver started calling out, and gesturing back towards us. Then I realized she was gesturing at me. Me? I showed you my bus pass. It's good. I know it is because I just bought it a few days ago.

I went up to see what she wanted. She wanted me to open the window immediately behind her. The window between her and Mr. Flip-Flops. I understood immediately. Did I post about this already? I seem to remember writing this before. Maybe I just told my coworkers or Liz about it.

So today the bus pulled up and the same lady was driving, and the six of us in line boarded the bus. Quite quickly, I might add. I love commuters who, like me, buy a monthly Bus Pass. It makes boarding the bus so much faster. If you're a regular commuter it just doesn't make sense not to buy a pass. I understand that it's expensive, I pay $82 for my Pass, but I ride the bus every day. If you ride the same bus as me every day your trip will cost you either $3 each way, or $5 (return trip) if you buy a Day Pass. I don't even get why people don't buy a Day Pass. It's $3 to ride the bus one day. It's $3 for a Day Pass but you have to pay another $1 because my bus is an Express and takes the Freeway. At the end of the day you board the bus, show the driver your Day Pass and give him another dollar. You just saved $1. Do that over the month with an average of 22 working days and you save yourself $22 (huh. 22 x $1 = $22. Go figure ;) But, 22 x $5 is $110. How much did I say my Monthly Pass was? That's right. $82. That's another $30 saving, or $50 saving compared to paying your fare each way, every day. Over the course of one year that's $600. How would you like to receive $600 every year? That'd be great, wouldn't it, and yet people still pay the regular fare each way, every day, because they can't afford to spend $82 on a Monthly Pass. Of course they can't afford an $82 pass; they have absolutely no grasp of economics. It just boggles my mind that these people (not wanting to stereotype, but they appear to be lower class, minimum wage earners) throw away $600 every year when they could probably really use that money.

So everyone this morning had Bus Passes which meant we all just showed our Pass to the driver and we were on the Bus, and before I'd taken a couple of steps the driver had the door closed and was pulling away from the Station, rather quickly I might add.

The reason for our hasty departure was obvious. The driver did not want Mr. Flip-Flops riding her bus. And we could hardly blame her. The reason she was able to get away without Mr. Flip-Flops is that instead of waiting in line for the bus with the rest of the passengers (and thank God he doesn't...although he might start to, now. Crud!), Mr. Flip-Flops sits down and does a crossword or some other puzzle. So when the bus pulled up this morning he had to put away his puzzle book and gather his belongings (which this morning included a bag of white plastic shopping bags. He had a plastic shopping bag stuffed full to overflowing with plastic shopping bags), and before he could do this, all 6 of us who were waiting in line had boarded and the driver wasted no time in getting the hell out of Dodge. I think she did this yesterday, too. I didn't see Mr. Flip-Flops but she was certainly quick to pull away from the Station as if he was coming.

Very unprofessional, to leave a passenger at the Station when you have nowhere near a full bus, but given the odor of the passenger left behind it was a perfectly understandable action, and very much appreciated by the rest of the passengers.

Reflection

Every now and then as I come into work, I look at the city skyline and I think to my self "What am I doing here?"

I'm not really questioning whether or not I should be where I am in my life, it's more that reality is intruding for a minute (hate it when that happens) forcing me to reflect on where I've come from and where I am now.

I come from a place 37 years ago and 10,000 miles away (although I really only came here to the U.S. in 97-98). It was a small country town in rural Victoria, Australia, with a population of 15,000 people, where everyone may not know your name but they know who your parents or grandparents are, and a lot of people know a lot of other people's business, which is just the way it is with small(ish) country towns. I used to live in a country with a population of approx. 20,000,000 people, and now I live in a megatropolis with a population the same as my home country.

So every now and then I actually notice the towering buildings surrounding me, and I stop for a second as my mind catches up on the past 37 years and contemplates the journey I took from there to here.