I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.

<rant>
I know I’ve not the most healthy regard for marriage, so this probably won’t sit well. But I think women should find better things to do with their time than take on their husbands’ surnames.

This would save them a lot of hassle at the Social Security office, the Passport office, the DMV (among other administrative offices). And this way, I don’t have to look at those double-whammy-hyphenated-surnames and roll my eyes.

Asian surnames are the absolute worst for that. Asians traditionally don’t take their husbands’ surnames either, but I’ve to say, there are some pretty resolute little folk who can live through indignities like Annabel Wang-Chung* or Belinda Tan-Toh* or (gulp) Hwang-Lee Poh Yee*.

And just when you think you’ve got the order right – ie: maiden name first followed by husband’s surname, noooo…. someone will go and change the damn order just so it sounds better. Like, dude. Totally. Uncool.

If you’ve really gotta do it, just go ahead and run the whole nine yards, right? Change it from Christina Fong* to Christina McGregor*. Yeah, you might not look like a McGregor, but it says so much less than Christina Fong McGregor* and sometimes less is really more. It’s not a case where you can hope to have your cake and eat it too.

Names are sometimes pretty important – I’m convinced most Daniels are pretty hawt and Walters are not – but surnames are social indicators more than anything. The subtle name-dropping-social-climbing is unbecoming. We’re better than that! We’re educated (and well at that), cosmopolitan, upwardly mobile, financially independant women of the information age. Surely we’re better than that.

* Names have been made up to protect the innocent – namely me.
</rant>

Please take some time out today to celebrate International Genius Day.

Well, I took the bus to Chinatown today, and it was pretty fun. The ride took about 45 minutes, and then it was about a 15 minute walk up Grant to get to the store.

Long bus rides are fun. Long bus rides in foreign countries are even funner.

Along the way, you inevitably think about things, and today I was thinking about the amount of taxes I’ll have to pay when I join the ranks of the gainfully employed, and about the cost of living here. Coming from sunny Lion City, it’s a hefty amount.

I’m not sure the money really goes into what I want it to be spent on. What I do know is that the roads are congested and pot-holey, public transportation is in bad shape, and the public sector is on the slow lane on the country road.

Unfortunately, I also realise that unlike the other citizens here, in one way or another, I chose to come here. It’s like doing business with DBS, right. I should know what I’m getting into. I knew about the taxes, and the shape of the country. If I was unhappy about it, I should’ve stayed home.

I guess this is the cost of being happy. While money can’t buy happiness, you can certainly pay for being happy.

It’s been slightly over a week since we got here, but it’s been a little tough trying to feel settled down. We’re still living out of our suitcase (though last weekend I managed to empty mine and put what little clothes I brought into drawers). I’ve been hanging out at the redblossomtea retail outlet and having tea all day helps with the jet lag and general sluggishness that I usually succumb to.

But in general, getting set up in a new country is probably like trying to wash the dishes – for me at least. For me, a simple case of washing the dishes takes a phenomenal 45 minutes because usually:
1. I put the clothes to wash, so the washing machine is drawing all the water
2. There are already dishes in the sink
3. The dish rack is full
4. The cupboard is mess, cups are in spaces where the dishes should be, and bowls are hanging out with the cups.

On weekends, we take it a little easier – yes, it is possible – and we take a drive around the city snooping around residential estates to shortlist areas where we might want to live. On Sundays, real estate agents usually do an open house for properties they want to sell, so you can just park by the side, walk in, get a pamphlet, and run out. A bit like visiting model house showrooms back in Singapore. Last week we got lucky and just stumbled onto a couple. This week I did my research, and have a shortlist of the places I want to check out.

The weather, is the usual unpredictable San Francisco weather. It’s generally about 15°C or so, but in the city it’s sunny and where we’re staying it’s foggy and wet. So when I wake up I think it’s freezing and put on a wooley sweater, but by the time we get to the city I’m sweltering under the sweater.

I expect when I get used to it, it’ll be a different season

We’re here. I slept a lot. On the plane. On the second plane. After lunch. After dinner.

Then I woke up at 3am and couldn’t get back to sleep.

I’ve a headache.

All I can think of is breakfast, but I want some chye tow kway, black one. And preferably, the soggier, breakfast type with more egg. Not the crispy lunch/dinner type though if I could get that now I wouldn’t complain.

Head hurts!

Had a full schedule today, with last minute meet-ups and errands to run. Was a good thing too, if not I’d probably be depressed and moping lazily around at home.

It’s my last night at the apartment (for now), and I’m not really looking forward to moving out.

Ah well.

Thanks to everyone for the lunches, dinners, tea, desserts, everything! Thanks thanks thanks. Thanks for meeting me, thanks for hanging out, thanks!

Will be taking a short break while we physically relocate, but we should be back online in no time. Catch you guys soon.

It’s 8am. I still can’t sleep.

6am: gave up tossing in bed.

6.30am: walked around the house in the pale blue morning light. Heard weird bird sounds. Weird for the 26th storey. Went to the fridge, looked for the usual sleep inducers. None. No pills, no alchohol, no milk for the honey.

My city is a synthetically bright one. My home is the same. Must get used to other ways of life.

7am: started pc up.

8am: out of blogs, out of mail, out of searches. not in the mood for anything in particular.

*twiddle thumbs*

Am missing our dvd collection right now.

Am trying not to think about the discomfort of moving.

Am trying not to sneer at the meandyou-dotcom wedding sites-turned-blogs.

Faintly recall trying to sleep in other continent. Still frigid air. Smells of bread. What will I do if I can’t sleep? Call home?

Random thoughts creep: I don’t want to take down the photos from the wall. I don’t want to put the rest of my stuff in boxes into storage somewhere here. My parents might move closer to my brother when he moves. I might not see my room again.

Does it matter?

I psych: nothing is final. There is always recourse. No cause for alarm.

I shudder: navigating, driving, job, house, taxes, maintenance, gas, repairs, insurance, phone, groceries, hospitals, savings, investments, forms, processes, banks, mortgage, time.

Many unknowns. Size unknown.

I aspire: others have gone, some alone, some with dependants, some with nothing, some with too much.

They follow(ed) dreams.

Uh-oh. No dreams lately.

Maybe because can’t sleep.

Gone to try again.

A week or so before we headed off to Japan, the folks in the office managed to organise a nice basketball 5-on-5 match. Usually not my kind of thing, but KF insisted I should check out his moves, so there I was, being nothing less than an enthusiastic camera-person.

Here’re the highlights.

It’s nice that the guys rallied together for what was a pretty cool game. They should so totally do it more often.

This evening Sharkie and I tried out the Jurlique Day Spa at Wheelock Place. Spas and facials sound innately attractive, though I’ve never had a facial, and the last spa I treated myself to was at the Park Hyatt in Vietnam (and I really didn’t fancy it).

So I thought I would reward myself to keep motivated through a somewhat uncomfortable transition ahead. I’ve also been thinking of my quarterly rewards, but it looks like the 400D and the Wii will take me through to the first six months.

I’ve not really used Jurlique before, but I’ve tried the heavenly smelling Rose Hand Cream. The store smells pretty much like that. I tried the Herbal Mud Body Wrap, and it was a pretty pleasant experience. For an hour, you get lightly massaged, get mud smeared on, get wrapped and heated up, lie in the darkened room and try to focus on the sound of the heater, and then experience the relief when they come and turn the heater off. Of course it was messy, but they kept the mud mess to a minimum. There is also a shower in room to take the mud off. It’s probably psychological, but the thought of sweating out buckets in the wrap is pretty revitalising.

What I really liked was the Aromatherapy Facial. For an hour, you get your face cleansed, toned, massaged, hydrated and generally pampered. It also helps that their products smell so good. You also get your arms moisturised and your head and neck massaged while they’re at it. It was splendid.

The Jurlique Day Spa is located at Wheelock Place, #04-02. Call 6735-7177 for appointments.

So despite sleeping most of the day, I’m dead tired now. Looking forward to a peaceful, comfortable and early night.

It’s been a week. I still think about her in my downtime. It still gets to me.

I’m trying to pack, but I hate it. Efficient moving requires a discipline I don’t have. I carry too much baggage in my life. And I remember each time I pack. I know I should throw everything out. I just can’t bring myself to. I need to complete shipping the boxes by tomorrow. I think it’s going to be another 3 for me. It’s mostly documents and clothes at this point.

I wish I didn’t have to do this.