This blog is like Jason Voorhees. Every time you think it’s dead it jumps out of a river or from behind a bush to cause you panic and consternation.
Man I’m rusty at this. Let me try again.
This blog is like a zombie. It should be dead but it keeps coming back to life to suck your brains. Or just suck.
Okay third time’s the charm.
This blog is like Mother Theresa’s vag[REDACTED]
Let’s just get into it shall we?
I would like to formally hide behind the ‘I’m too busy’ excuse for not posting as much as I should have done. Regardless of how many people read this I should be writing more and it makes me feel bad when I don’t. It makes it worse when there is plenty to write about as well but the sad fact is it was much, much easier to write these things when I was unhappy and craving half the things I have now. I’m happy and fine and doing pretty good all things considering but that isn’t entertaining or amusing. Comedy comes from pain. I can’t track that quote down to one person in particular because it has been espoused so much by some of the funniest people in the world that it has become impossible. If something horrendous were to happen to me I’m sure I could turn it into some pretty strong material given enough time to get over it. Trauma victims have all the luck.
As a young, white male with a happy family, a girlfriend and a job I enjoy I have only first world problems. They’re pretty good problems to have, if I only have to stress about university deadlines and the credit card bill I’ll consider myself very lucky. This passage will of course be a bitter pill to swallow if anything goes drastically wrong in the near future but it’s not like this blog has bitten me in the arse before right?
Having stuff to write about but nothing dramatic to spin into an epic yarn I decided to take a look back at some of the older entries to see what was occupying my mind so much back then. That’s how I came across this piece I forgot I’d written: The Plan. Now as blog updates go it isn’t one of my favourites. It’s naïve and a little smug and I’m not a fan of that last paragraph at all. But it addresses a lot of things that have actually come to pass in the last eighteen months since it was uploaded so I’d like to take the time to respond to some of Past David’s brainfarts. Past David here is represented by an appropriately stupid photo from around the same time and comes complete with glasses and multiple chins. Current me is a photo from a couple of weeks ago in typical ‘explaining things tiresomely’ pose. Not pictured are the two girls on either side of me who look bored to tears (seriously).
Right well done on getting a working visa, you and the other 10% of the population must be very proud. I’m not entirely sure why I thought it would be interesting to tell the world at large about the excitement of waiting lines at Immigration Tower. I was actually back there not long ago to renew said working visa. I read a book while I waited. Then I left again. Riveting stuff.
I’m sorry to have to tell you this mate but that ignorance thing doesn’t iron itself out straight away (still hasn’t). I did manage to get back to Macau properly in December of last year for a very pleasant weekend. I made a net loss of about $20 in the gaudy casinos and stayed at a fantastic couple of hotels. Not so long ago I referred to Macau as ‘a testament to vulgarity’ in conversation (ooh Oscar Wilde eat your heart out) and whereas I had a great time there I still think that’s pretty apt. Those casinos really do look disgusting.
Clearly my attempt at getting an ID card merited two separate mentions, the initial tale and the exciting conclusion! If only there had been a slight administrative error then we could finally have the world’s first truly great trilogy (with all due respect to the original Star Wars and with fervent hope that the Dark Knight Rises doesn’t disappoint).
These are just a fact of life out here so I’m not going to hold your hand on this one and say it will all be okay once you have your own place because not only was there one waiting for me at my desk at work last month but there was also one in this flat a little while ago. It disappeared under my shoes and I couldn’t find it so I decided to convince myself it was never there. I like to think we have an understanding, I’ll keep out of his business if he stays away from mine.
Oh also, about this Phase Two section, we need to talk. You manage to cram references to Huxley, Orwell and Star Trek as well as ‘casual-as-you-like’ remarks about sexual violence and the way short-tempered Chinese people speak into the same paragraph. And then to top it all off you drop in a namecheck of Hobbes’ Leviathan as if it’s some sort of cultural touchstone. Who were you trying to impress? Other people have taken entry-level philosophy classes as well you know. God, Past David, you’re the worst.
I’m happy to tell you you have your own flat now. At a good price too. In fact you get to live in no less than four different places within two years. Oh but hey, dipshit, the reason you couldn’t find any places in Causeway Bay or Wan Chai for the prices you wanted is because YOU WERE LOOKING IN CAUSEWAY BAY AND WAN CHAI! With typical stubbornness I was expecting to find the spacious flat of my dreams in some of the most heavily populated areas of Hong Kong island for very little money. Perhaps I was holding out for that one special place with the marble fountain in the middle of the reception room. Maybe I wanted an east wing for my vast library. I don’t know what I was thinking. What were you thinking Past David? I would probably have hated living in Causeway Bay with the sheer amount of humanity I would be sharing that space with and if I found a place in Wan Chai I’d be right next door to my office and would thus have to keep it a secret in case they ever found out and called me in on days off.
Except it isn’t where I work any more! That’s right after starting a blog because I didn’t have a job I neglected to write about me getting a brand new job. Even if you hate this thing and read it out of sheer masochism you would be entitled to know something like that. I have become one of those people who actually enjoys his job now. Weird I know. But that’s a whole new entry. One that deserves it’s own post not a tacked on bit at the end of whatever this is. One thing Past David and I have in common is that we both need to give ourselves some sort of motivation or we’ll never get anything done.
The major differences between us two are: I look more like Tintin than he does, I have a credit card, I need more sleep, Past David isn’t even at Hong Kong University part time mastering yet so he can shut up whinging.
I’m David Hetherington and I’m apparently schizophrenic… and wearing the same clothes in both those photos.