Not wanting something

What do you do on weekends when stay-at-home order is still in affect (in fact as of right now it’s indefinite)? I watch videos on Youtube. Of course, that’s after I’ve read for an hour and studied Korean for an hour, but you get the idea. Difficult as it may be for a productivity-focused person, I’m not above watching videos mindlessly for a few hours.

A channel I was watching this weekend is called ‘JDM Masters’. Some what looks to be an Indonesian guy that grew up in Britain and now lives in Japan is showcasing Japanese car enthusiasm. It includes new and iconic Japanese cars I grew up admiring, and the various tuning shops throughout the country. It’s a bittersweet reminder of my own fabulous trip to Japan a few years back; due to the current circumstances It’s not likely I’ll be able to make a return trip anytime soon.

What’s dangerous about watching Youtube car videos is that I then become tempted to buy.. Even though I’ve had a string of cars and am currently a loving owner of a BMW M2 Competition, a true petrol-head can never have too many cars. A new Honda Civic Type R would really scratch the front-wheel-drive performance car itch. Watching a tour of the Subaru STI Gallery made me miss my old Impreza WRX STI: perhaps I should buy a copy of the latest version!

While I can certainly afford to get another car, it would be a bit reckless both financially and from a utility standpoint. I’m reminded of a saying I quite like: not wanting something is as good as having that thing. Rampant materialism is never the solution to happiness. Take it from someone who have spent six-figures on a car. Though it would be great to buy a Toyota 86 and modify it to my taste, that’s not the path for me at this moment in time.

I’m destined to drive the M2 - and only the M2 - for quite awhile.

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Is it Spring yet?

On HD televisions

I can fondly remember the first time I upgraded to a proper HD television. At 32-inches, the Sony Bravia isn’t large compared to the common behemoths of today, but the huge jump to 1080p resolution was stunning all the same. Those were the days when I’d find any excuse to dig up some HD content to enjoy the sheer picture quality that’s being blasted in front of our eyes. The Planet Earth series was an absolutely treat; so was “The Lighting of the Beacons” scene in the The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. HD was such a significant leap that I felt like I was participating in something off in the future, but I’ve somehow gained early access. It was a delightful.

Fast forward to today, and here I am still with my 1080p television, though it’s since grown to a lofty 58-inches in size. The 4K revolution is largely complete now - I don’t suppose you can even purchase a 1080p unit right now - yet I still do not feel a great need to upgrade; the incentives just aren’t there. Broadcast television still isn’t fully 1080p yet, and with Netflix you have to pay extra if you want 4K streaming. The next generation of gaming consoles from Sony and Microsoft touts 4K playability, but until there is a game to entice me to upgrade (such as whatever the next Grand Theft Auto will be), I’m quite okay with my original SKU Playstation 4.

It’s really easy to get used to something that once awed you immensely, to become bored with it and needing to chase after the next innovation to placate the human insatiability for novelty. This is how people get onto the endless hedonistic treadmill, feeling the need to keep buying news things. As an owner of a sports car costing in the six-figures, I totally get it, though I also gained the understanding that these shiny objects aren’t going to make us happy if we’re not at a base level happy to begin with. The increase in joy from achieving whatever newness is momentary and fleeting, and soon we’ll be back to our old normal, chasing after the next hit.

Owing a 911 hasn’t made me any happier than before, though that’s okay because that’s something to work on from within, rather than hinging on external objects or circumstances. I think it’s important to remember the initial joy when we first attained our nice things - like a sports car or HD television - to carry that burst of happiness through to the present. This exercise makes me grateful to have these things now, and how much I’d wish I did if that weren’t the case. That should be satisfaction enough.

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The waiting game.

Minimalist versus the utilitarian

Back in my early twenties there was a time I was quite fascinated with minimalism. Growing up my family was decidedly poor so it wasn’t like I had a lot of stuff anyways, but the idea of having as little worldly possessions as possible appealed greatly to me then. Computer technology have allowed us to digitize practically everything; items that would otherwise take up massive amounts of space like books and CD collections can now all be stored on our devices.

The iconic image of Steve Jobs sitting in his living room with nothing but the bare essentials, an utter lack of furniture save for an extraordinarily ornate lamp. That picture was the primary inspiration back then for me to begin decluttering my life: physical books were tossed out in favor of digital, old CDs and cassettes got converted to MP3s (wish I had kept those, honestly), and reams of accumulated car magazines put into the recycling bin.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) it never got beyond that - I love material things far too much. The brief flirtation with minimalism was merely a motivation to basically clean up my room, which in hindsight I don’t suppose it’s a negative. Indeed I do tend to accumulate a myriad of items and knickknacks over time, figurines and ornaments that provide inspiration for my artistic endeavors. For example up on my shelves are a few vinyl albums on display, even though I don’t have a record player. Physical books, too, have returned in my favors in recent years, and those simply pile up after having read them, and aren’t likely to be read again.

A year ago I performed the KonMari Method of cleaning to all my belongings, and 10 full-size trash bags later my living space was renewed and refreshed. Fast-forward to the present and the accumulation creep has returned. I’ve done well to not purchase any new clothing, but the amount of books have increased exponentially, and various souvenirs from trips have materialized on the shelves. It’s all maintained neat and tidy, though from a perspective of utility it’s highly wanting.

Rather than minimalist, my philosophy when it comes to things material is centered on utility: does it serve a purpose, and will I use it regularly. That ethos helps greatly limit my frivolous spending, though conversely I use it somewhat dubiously as justification for always upgrading to the latest and greatest iPhone. It’s a device I most frequently use, therefore it’s worth the relatively extravagant sum to get it.

So with that in mind, can I then for example force myself to donate away books I’ve already read, instead of them lining up my shelves? After all their utilitarian purpose is served and gone, and the reclaimed space would be quite lovely.

That’s going to be tough.

All the curves at the all the right places.

Adulting

I wonder when did it begin the transition in becoming more “adult” and being less cavalier with money usage. Back in my college days and earlier in my work career, not only did I spent every dollar I made, anything I want to purchase, once reconciling with the finances (at least I wasn’t leveraging credit cards to the hilt), I’d simply go buy it - no hesitation whatsoever. 

These days, there’s immense amounts of hesitation. Big spending purchases are only done after massive amounts of analysis; pro and con chart, utility factor, and asking the ultimate question: do I really need it? Many times over I could’ve bought new wheels for my Miata, but prudent sensibilities have overruled and won out repeatedly. A stunning new OLED television would be splendidly nice indeed, but my now ancient 1080p set still soldiers on after five years. The five year ago me would’ve bought it already (precisely how I came to own the TV), without any feasibility study. The rationale was simple: if there’s a want and the bank account agrees, then it’s mine. 

That mind-set has evolved. For example recently it took weeks to make the final decision on a new iMac. 

Perhaps it’s all the books I’ve read about the dangers of materialism and how one should have financials in reserves in case shit hits the proverbial fan. Or perhaps I’ve come to realize that plenty of the items I bought back when didn’t necessarily add to my permanent happiness. It’s fleeting is what I’m attempting to say. Buying car parts and modifications just may be the stupidest thing ever when considering I don’t even own that car anymore. The current car remains, hard as the mind tries, completely stock. 

I now see my little brother at the same stage in life: in the midst of college and having a part-time job with no worldly adult stuff to worry about. When boxes with Amazon Prime taped over arrive home at regular intervals, it’s quite the nostalgia.