The next car, I’ve decided, is going to be a Volvo 740 wagon. I’m not too concerned about the year so long as it has low mileage (less than 100k miles) and the interior is in good condition.

Unless they’re $20k by the time I replace the current car, in which case I’m just going to be sad and the have to figure something else out.

Really, I was satisfied enough with my 740 that I’d be happy to own these things for the rest of my life.

— § —

Days are flying by. I’m about to turn 41. It was about ten minutes ago that I was consoling myself with the fact that at least I was turning 40 and not 41.

Rather short-sighted way to rationalize, I suppose.

The kids are growing. The seasons are changing. Everything is racing. Life is short.

Meanwhile, you go to work each day, not becuase it makes any eternal, metaphysical sense, but because that is what you do and no other options have been made available to you.

— § —

© Aron Hsiao / 2017

I had been in this long period of “I hate divers and watches with bezels” and was getting more and more “dress” in my watch preferences.

Then, all of a sudden, I flip-flopped, and now I’m absolutely in love with my light-dial Mako XL with the black bezel and brown leather strap again.

There’s something so… impenetrable and elemental about it. The whole thing is external, exterior; whereas on my other watches, the space below the crystal feels like a kind of interior, no such thing is true for the Mako XL. The interior is hidden from view.

And with the brown leather, it feels very old-fashioned and very outdoorsy.

Part of the lure of these things is that they become metonymies for daydreams that will never be realized. I will likely never live inside a Norman Rockwell painting or near the idealized new-England-country-road-in-fall-in-my-mind, but with the right wristwatch, I can carry a little bit of that sensibility with me.

It’s a kind of denial and a kind of escapism joined into one.

— § —

I don’t want it to be Monday again.

Every weekend, I start out with the intention to finally make progress on something that matters, to finally do something of importance in relation to life goals.

Then, by Sunday night, I am in a pitched battle with myself just to do a few basics—dishes, laundry, and so on—that by then I odn’t want to do.

Nothing of import ever gets done. This remains a departure and an inversion relative to most of my life, and it bothers me.

— § —

Medical school or law school?

Am I crazy even to think about it?

— § —

Songs from Bowie’s “Scary Monsters and Super Creeps” have been suddenly going through my head all day for the first time in many years. I don’t know what that’s about, but there it is.

It seems to me that many aspects of consumerism are ways of fighting mortality. Collecting and hoarding certainly are, but I suspect the same of fashion and home decor as well.

© Aron Hsiao / 2003

It’s all just monument-building in one way or another, ways of fighting against time and against entropy.

The society that refuses to believe in mortality, even for a moment, is not a healthy or well-integrated society.

You can say “everything dies” until you’re blue in the face, but nobody in this society is going to accept that. The answer will always be, “well, not the expensive, high-quality things,” or it will be “that’s why you get another one before the first one runs out of time.”

We can’t accept things as they are, we can’t accept time as it is, we can’t accept life as it is, we can’t accept ourselves as we are.

We don’t ever get around to living because we are busy trying to shore up our monuments and stop time first. Once that job is done, we’ll turn and focus on whatever else might be in play in existence.

— § —

Sometimes I don’t blog because it starts to feel like a way of not doing things.

Then, I stop.

But I don’t do things instead, then I just… don’t blog. I’m not doing more as a result, I’m doing one thing still less.

— § —

I will try to do some car repairs and maintenance tomorrow. I’ve acquired a hydraulic floor jack, jack stands, and a yet more tools.

I’m nervous. I’m nervous because car repair is one of those nuts I’ve tried to crack my entire life, but I’ve never managed to make any significant headway, and I’ve fucked up expensively on multiple occasions.

But now is as good a time as any. I can’t afford to buy a new car, but I can’t afford to fix the one I’ve got by going the mechanic route.

If I do have to buy, I’m going back to the old Volvo bricks. They were far easier to fix, and far more reliable. Yes, Toyotas are reliable, too, but they’re far too small to be useful. I need legroom and dog room and so on.

— § —

© Aron Hsiao / 2007

Speaking of, I am actively looking for another dog. I’ve decided that despite some nagging worries, another pit or pit mix is the way to go, starting from puppy. I understand the breed, I’m familiar with its quirks.

Plus, a similarly large breed with a similar temperament is more likely to be able to hold its own in a house that already has one 75-pound pit.

I don’t know how I’m going to afford this, but it needs to be done.

— § —

I hate the fact that time passes. I hate the fact that things change. I want to live the same day over and over and over again, like Groundhog Day.

Well, as long as it’s a reasonable day. I suppose I don’t want to live the same *bad* day over and over and over again.

But I am tired of each day being new. It doesn’t feel like an adventure, it feels like an imposition, or maybe like a betrayal.

That’s that mortality thing again.