About “The Notepad”

I’ve always had an inert passion for writing that always seemed to appear for short period of time before being squandered away due to obligations and time constraints. This is my wholeheartedly committed attempt to allow one of my hobbies to grow and develop into something greater. With this website I hope to embody a blog that consists of financial articles that will appeal to my academic pursuits and research, while still being able allot space for a few more sporadic thoughts. Hopefully, through an up-kept sorting system I can continue to distribute the content to it’s appropriately labeled virtual shelf to keep my writing organised. As of August 30th, 2017, the blog sits rather bare of content, but not of ideas. In reality, the recent inception of the blog is more of a rebirth than an opening of a new endeavour for me. Through 2010 to 2014 I up-kept several blogs through platforms such as Blogger, and Tumblr (despite the bad stigma the platform was incredibly pleasant if treated solely as a blog). I had accumulated more than 400 lengthy posts, developed a limited, yet active following, but ultimately was struck with time limitations, a loss of interest, and let the domain – and my followers – go. Several years ago I would have written about the road to college, my final exams, a concert that I went to, and reviewed some guitars; my passion at the time.

Today, this blog aims to first-and-foremost encapsulate my journey as an economist and entrepreneur, and secondly to let you entertain some of my stranger ideas regarding psychology, pop culture, and the world.

I welcome any collaborative research ideas that may come to my readers minds, or any special requests for projects that I should undertake. If you have any particular feedback I will also gladly take it into account.



Some might consider that I don’t pay enough attention to this space. That I fill my blog with content that lacks any sort of cohesion.

In consolidating my work I was able to identify certain patterns from briefly flipping through the collection of drafts I had amassed. One of the most apparent characteristics was repetition. Never during the writing process had I rewritten a paragraph or essay – it always felt too arduous and secretarial. The passage examined previously and this one stem from the same idea, share identical themes, but differ greatly. The narrative diverts from the original sequence of thoughts to a dark rhetoric commenting on the prerequisite sacrifices that must be made to constitute honest work. Ignoring copy, consider the presentation. The letters leave a stronger imprint on the page, suggesting either this version was written before the previous, or that the keys were pressed in a firm staccato fashion. The characters also appear loose on the paper, jolted slightly from the movement of the typewriter in-between keystrokes. There’s a section that has been crossed out – usually I would employ X’s and H’s on-top of one another in order to hide an error, then when examining it I am still given the liberty to attempt to decipher my old mistakes, but here I was very thorough in hiding whatever error I made.
This is an excerpt from the work. The typewritten text is outlined, commentary is italicised, and the narrative remains unformatted.

I try my best to keep maintaining and coming back to blogging, but it’s difficult. I spend a lot of time writing exhausting financial reports on efficiency, capital markets, behavioural finance, and guides. Once this blog served only as a proof-of-knowledge throughout job applications, then as a place to publish in-depth research. However, ever since starting East Mill Capital, in 2018, most extensive reports are done on behalf of the organisation; the public ones are available on the home page, and the private ones are considered client deliverables and cannot be published.


Moreover, most of my writing – the type I enjoy the most – is written on a typewriter.

Over the years I have owned several typewriters, and even keep one in my office. In an ongoing four year project I have been working on a project that studies the evolution of my own typewritten copy. With over 400 typewritten pages of varying sizes (from A3 to A5), I have been meticulously scanning every page and juxtaposing commentary.

If you read the appended page you can an example from the introductory chapter.

I’ve been asked before about the purpose of the work, and I have come to varying conclusions as to why I spend so much time on it. The totality of the work centres around the relationship that I have with the typewriter and why I slave over it so much. It’s about how writing takes on a life of it’s own under the absence of revision. Looking back at my previous, typewritten, work I can see patterns, I can feel different emotions that could not be conveyed digitally. When you’re forced to write something without a possibility of revision, you – generally – should be careful. However, when you write without revision, but with a sort of reckless abandon you start to understand the things that really matter. A typewriter is a machine, there’s moving parts, friction, vibrations, and all of that becomes impressionable. You can detect the strength with which text was written, and under what kind of influence. Gripping the paper in your hand provides you with a tactile experience. Most people don’t know that if you hold a typewritten page to a burning light it will shine through the grooves and holes made by the punctuation. The margins can be ignored (you might know typewritten margins from the sound of the bell, indicating an additional 5 characters before the end of the page), and you can type further on at the risk of running off the page. There is so much more to typewritten work, and it serves as a much needed contrast to the finance-forward work that I do every day.


With time this page, too, will be complete.