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nothing new is

June 5, 2005

So here I am, on the verge of setting up another blog. Most attempts have failed in the midst of stress, anxiety or sloth. Perhaps this one will too. But on this I shall attempt to preserve a degree of anonymity that the rest of my blogs did not have: double-edged. Anonymity protects, but it will also impose limits on what I can post, and how I say things. Suffice to say that if you don’t know who I am, the way I write and what I write about should serve as a hint. And if you still don’t know who I am, then it doesn’t really matter does it? The blogosphere, the 21th century’s most exciting and most pointless feature, like mechanical douches and homophobia! Here I come.

Nothing new is, that is nothing new. (Ha, a palindromic sentence!) (And if you did not get that allusion, too bad for you you stupid phillistine.) And in this age and day of cliche, can anything truly be considered to be new news? Perfect information has brought about perfect boredom: I am liable to repeat, exaggerate and contradict in order to make my life (paltry) seem less mundane and ordinary than it actually is.

Or is it? I’ve been living it up, I suppose. Now a conscript (which will allow you to pinpoint my nationality), I have under the auspices of an injury, a pre-existing condition and a senior specialist been able to secure a rather pointless job in a rather pointless storehouse. But fitter time for that.

In two years I leave for Stanford (I cannot wait) to enrich my mind with the possibilities of economics. Meanwhile I struggle to keep my mind supple with studies of Arabic and German, two languages which I hope to add to my little collection, now comprising English (excessively fluent and superfluous, as some may find), Mandarin (but very rusty even though I am racially Chinese), French (still quite good, thank you very much) and a smattering of Bahasa Melayu, Latin, Japanese, Italian and random Chinese dialects.

Aside from languages (at which I do quite well because I imitate very well), I love the theatre (or used to, haven’t felt much excitement for it in recent months) and dream of one day doing stand-up comedy. I enjoy reading (all genres but mainly economics, fiction, poetry and more recently, philosophy) and hope to one day make a living by reading only (teach at a university, collecting PhDs). Meanwhile I have sold my soul in order to pay for Stanford and will have to transform into a banker for a short while.

Travelling thrills me, as does good wine, a finely crafted poem, finally understanding math theorems, discussing politics, pornography and hot men. Unfortunately I have none of the latter in my life, although of course I am open to suggestion. Homophobia irritates me, as does right-wing Christianity verging on Fascism. Sometimes, however, I think that I am a self-loathing homosexual. At others I am as queenly as they come, honey. I wish I were more muscular because I hate being classified as a twink although I am convinced that this is merely because I was unpopular as a child and want nothing more than to fit in with the community. I am disgustingly shallow sometimes, but I excuse myself. The rant stops here.

So that is all I can think of at the moment. I am a person of idiosyncrasies, I am special, I am not. But this is nothing new. Nothing new is.

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