Leapdragon 2016 - Aron Hsiao Was Here

Early morning storms.  §

It seems as though I spend every night sitting, staring out the window, avoiding homework and wondering if there is something on Earth worth fighting for. Seems a waste for someone of my intellect and inflated ego to be born into the age of politically correct corporate democracy…

Still, the clouds are beautiful, and so are the darkness and the smell of rain on concrete, romantic like the cold war once was. Back then, there were scents and sights and moments worth savoring because there was a danger in being… Not self-imposed danger — not heroin chic or fast motorcycles or silly reality television — just the danger of existence… the bomb and the ethos in which it was steeped. These days the best you can hope for is starvation via wage-slavery at the hands of Uncle Sam and Wal-Mart. Mundane, indeed.

My hand is still numb. Apparently the doc understood well what he was saying when he told me it was a month or more until it would heal. Damn. There’s a dull ache in my arm just above and the whole thing feels plastic, like I’d bolted it on after growing nearly to middle-age.

For the first time today, I was in the “30 something” category on someone’s marketing survey. You get accustomed to being in the younger groups, and until now even at 25 I’d always been in “18-25” as a rule… But on a piece of marketing material I answered today I fell into the “25-31” group. Damn. And soon I will be a grad student. I’m getting older. At some point I will find grey hair, and then I will see a receeding hairline and will be told that I’m just achy because my joints are a little older, like the rest of me.

When are you supposed to suddenly grab a spouse and fry up some kids? I certainly don’t feel the inclination, but I do seem to have this fear that by the time I do it may be later than would otherwise have been comfortable…

Ye gods, what a long diary entry. Ciao.

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