Everything has been said
I am finding, increasingly, that I have nothing to say on this blog. I could recount all the inane details of my day, as I have done previously, but I would rather offer you something more than mere description
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I think therefore I am. You are an individual in that the universe that you percieve is unique; others may be similar, but your life will be different from others because nobody else in this world has had exactly the same experiences, hormonally or otherwise. Your mind, your heart, your feelings are unique and precious.
Think about your life. Half or more of the kids that you entered primary school with won't have made it to uni. To the ANU, even less. Those from that group that have chosen to study what you do? Those with the same values?
Talk about, write about, what you care about. What you feel is so important that you want the world to have a share in it. About books that you think we should try. Talk about your pains so that we can, we who love you, can sympathise and hold you close. Talk about your joys so that we can feel elated in your happiness.
Or talk about all of the amusing shit that you find on the internet, or wankers who make you inordinately angry.
Or talk about nothing at all, and sit back and think. Think about small things. Sit on the grass and stand outside in the rain and get into a kitchen and make biscuits with your bare hands.
You are one of the least bland people I have ever known.
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