If I ever propose switching away from my Galaxy Tab S again, someone needs to hit me with a bat.
Seriously, this is the best computing/writing/personal mobile device I’ve ever owned.
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Tea. I drink a lot of tea. That seems to be all I do lately: drink buckets and buckets of tea, generally either Earl Grey or Chinese green. Buckets and buckets.
If I have one frustration, it’s how long it takes to make another cup of tea. I’ve considered installing an under-the-counter instant water heater just to support my tea habit. I have an entire cabinet full of tea, yet I came back from Canada with… more tea.
I currently limit myself to regular-sized mugs so that it doesn’t get out of hand, but I keep having the inclination to get 32-oz. or 48-oz. hot cups so that I can have larger and larger brews of tea.
Hope they’re right about it being healthier than soda because I have this year switched wholesale to tea without reducing drinking quantity almost at all.
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© Aron Hsiao / 2004
Chinese New Year come and gone. Actually it was “gone” while I was still in Victoria, but I sort of postponed admitting that until I got back so that I could—at the very least—send out for Chinese and watch My Neighbor Totoro with the kids (yes, you heard right, I am celebrating my Asian heritage with an “They’re all the same, aren’t they?” move).
Must do better.
Obstacle number one in all of this: do not speak or read Chinese. It never really occurred to me that the thing that would eventually get me to learn Chinese after all these years was children. But that’s what it’s coming down to.
I feel more and more as though I can’t be the father that I want to be unless I am a fluent Chinese speaker. Because the world is not going to do it for me. My kids are light-haired and light-eyed. If I don’t do something about this myself, this part of their identity is going to be lost to them.
That wouldn’t be good because it is such a huge part of my identity—as though, in a way, they can’t understand where they came from (in terms of me) without understanding where I came from.
So Chinese, here I come. Somehow. In the midst of all of the rest of this.
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Meanwhile, I started stock photography as a sideline in 2002. It is now 2017. Fifteen years. I have a total of just over a thousand images on the market, many of them rushed and not my best conceptual, planning, or even execution work.
That’s like 75 mediocre images a year. If I had just managed one good, actually-with-effort-invested photo a day over that time—just one—I’d have four times as many on the market and a much more decent sideline income.
This is the importance of the “a little bit every day” approach to life, something that I still cannot for the life of me master, even forty years in. I am streaky, I do things in intense bursts.
Each one of my books was written over the space of about a week of intense, bleary-eyed, book-universe-dwelling. My dissertation was basically written in one summer. I do big things bigly, in tiny amounts of time.
This is not the right way to live. Especially with kids around.
Must change that as well.