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.