Blog

Short blog posts, journal entries, and random thoughts. Topics include a mix of personal and the world at large.

Turn it down a notch

Public service announcement: don’t be like me. Don’t chase every little interior rattle in that used car you purchased. It’s not worth the hassle or mental anguish. Take the car for what it is: imperfect. It gets me from point A to point B, and the air conditioning works superbly. What more is there to ask for?

Heck, even new cars are not immune from interior rattles. My 2013 model year Subaru WRX STI is kind of known for a rattly interior. Of course you can take your new car to the dealer to have the technicians there chase the sound for you. But then you’d risk introducing new noises when the techs inevitably take apart the interior to investigate. Or worse, they break a piece and don’t tell you about it. (Don’t ask me how I know.)

You know how just because someone is a pro in one domain, it doesn’t necessarily transfer to other domains? A Michelin three star chef might be horrible at playing pickleball. I think the same framework applies to my innate perfectionism and obsessiveness. Those qualities are a positive when it comes to my job. Attention to detail and comprehensiveness is what gets me paid. Let me sweat the details and point out areas of inadequacy.

The same qualities are a huge negative when applied to my hobbies. The compulsion for perfection sucks out the fun. And that is why we do hobbies, right? For the sheer fun of it. There’s a happy medium between aiming high and self-flagellation for mistakes. A medium I’ve yet to achieved. I just spend a solid hour Googling various causes and fixes for front dash rattles for my Golf GTI. What a waste of time! It’s a used car, the interior is going to make some noises. Get over it.

The problem is: I can’t simply turn down the obsessiveness knob. It’s me. At least the Michelin star chef can readily admit defeat against a pickleball master.

Don't be like me

If I ever get the fortune to have children, I pray they won’t be afflicted with perfectionism and obsessive compulsiveness like me. Attention to the details may have positives, but mental anguish definitely exists on the other side.

Perfectionism is a myth, is it not? Everything on this earth is experiencing atrophy. We’re all decaying at a certain rate, animate or otherwise. Putting a brand new car in a hermetically sealed chamber is only delaying the process. And now you can’t even use the car.

It’s with cars where my enthusiasm and obsessive compulsiveness collide into sleepless nights. Even though I know perfect is but a monetary phase when the car gets final released at the factory, it doesn’t stop me from trying to preserve it. But that’s just not possible! No matter how careful you are, as you interact with the car, where be driving it or maintenance, blemishes are bound to happen.

Most recently I replaced the glovebox on my Golf GTI. I wanted the nicely felt-lined version that my 2019 model did not come with. During the process I slightly mangled a piece of the interior plastic. Ask any other person and they would genuinely say it looks fine. But not me! I’ve been trying all sorts of remedies to realign the piece to just a bit more perfect, and every attempt seems to have compounded the issue.

Of course, the best solution is to buy the piece brand new. Good thing my psychopathy doesn’t permeate to personal finance. If I’d bought a brand new replacement piece for every time I merely scratched a part on a car - and yes, that does frustrate me to no end - I’d be a guest on Financial Audit.

The lesson I am telling myself is to know when to stop. Obsessing over the details is fine up to the certain point. I can’t let perfect get in the way of functional. Actions have reactions, and sometimes the pursuit of perfection (hello, Lexus) can only make things worse.

Don't live this way

Ever since I bought a used 2019 Golf GTI back in October 2025, I've been having a grand ole time spending weekends fixing it up. Performed some much needed maintenance and general cleaning. Bought quite a few replacement parts to get the Golf up to my personal standards of correctness.

But my compulsive obsessiveness is indeed a double-edged sword. I’ve come to completely understand the enthusiasts who keep cars stored in climate-controlled bunkers, never to be driven. Because that is the only way to preserve perfection. Anytime a car is driven or gets worked on, it opens up opportunity for blemishes to get introduced. And that is chaos to our psyche.

Yesterday I had to loosen up the front seat of the GTI to add back in a storage drawer. (Long story short, Volkswagen did quite a few cost-cutting to later model years of the MK7 Golf. Because the company had to pay a historically massive fine for dieselgate.) The rear outside bolt came out terribly, with quite a few rings of mangled thread. I cleaned the bolt up best I could, and thankfully it threaded back in - not completely smoothly - and tightened to the correct specification.

Job done, right? Not if you’re an obsessive psychopath like me. All I could concentrate on afterwards was the offending bolt, and the potentially cross-threaded hole. I should buy a replacement bolt! But what if I take it out a second time, I won’t be able to thread the new bolt back in? Oh man, does that mean I can’t ever take the driver seat out in this Golf again? Is it really safe, even though the problem bolt torqued properly?

See, a normal person would recognize the bolt tightens just fine and moved the heck on with life. For whatever reason, my brand of car enthusiasm involves a fervent want to keep things perfect. Flaws are a personal challenge. I greatly do not recommend living this way.

And sadly, I don’t have climate-controlled bunker money. Because I totally would, purely for mental health reasons.

Endless anxiety

Back in the olden days when I used to build by own PCs, I can kiss my sleep goodbye if anything inevitably goes wrong. I simply cannot soundly sleep until a problem is fixed. The graphic card is giving out errors? It’s got to be remedied, even though it’s currently 2:00 AM in the morning, and the end is still not in sight. This is why I exclusively use Apple Macintosh computers now: reliable, with a warranty.

Imagine me owning a home, and the washer goes out. It’s too bad there isn’t a 24-hours Home Depot!

This inability to calm down until a problem is solved can’t just be idiosyncratic to me, right? I don’t know how to explain it. Impatience is the wrong word for it. It’s definitely anxiety, but for what purpose? Life is but an endless stream of problems - good or bad - for us to solve. The fallacy is that I seem to think there is a some happy equilibrium to reach, that once reached, everything will be okay forevermore. That’s of course not how it works.

It’s the wrecking my sleep that I find alarming. No amount of Buddhist breathing methods can calm my mind down for slumber. (Medical options, perhaps?) It doesn’t like open-ended questions. I recently sold my BMW for another car - a very simple and easy transaction. Even that, I had difficultly sleeping over the two days when the transaction was ongoing. I cannot relax until the thing is finished.

The new-to-me car arrived with some minor things to be fixed. (That’s typical when you buy a used car.) Cue up another bout of anxiety and sleeplessness! I fully understand that parts and shop time literally cannot happen overnight, and yet the anxiety over an “unfinished” car remains ever present. I just want to get it done and move on - but to what? Like I said earlier, life will only keep throwing problems at you to fix.

Am I then destined to suffer from anxiety continuously? On the flip side, isn’t it good to have things that make you want to get out of bed to solve? Tricky one, this.

That's my secret

I’ll be honest, it was not a great week for my mental health. And it’s not because of what happened on election night. I think if who the President of the United States is has material affect on how you feel, then it’s time to shift your perspective on life.

What wrecked my mental health this week was my ongoing cycle with the Accutane acne medication. One of the not too common side-effects of the drug is moodiness, a tendency towards quick to angry. I guess I should go buy a lottery ticket, because that uncommon side-effect found me.

In the movie Avengers, Bruce Banner replied with an iconic line when asked to get angry: “That’s my secret Cap’; I’m always angry.” That best explains how I felt this week. Good news is the short temper did not manifest itself to actual adverse action (good thing I don’t have a car commute). Though it’s equally not great that the anger is bottled up inside. I’d be watching a YouTube video, and suddenly felt the urge to throw something at the TV.

Again, it’s good that there were zero execution to those negative thoughts. I definitely do not want to spend the money to replace my LG OLED.

Exacerbating the issue are some small hiccups at work that really is no big deal when you detach from it. But in my ill-tempered condition, those tiny problems became lumbering boulders on my psyche. It can’t be helped: there’s always going to be problems at work. Being on Accutane is only temporary. It’s not like I haven’t been warned that it’s going to suck for the duration.

Better days ahead.

Can't have everything

I read on Reddit about this guy who wants to be a competitive bodybuilder, but is lamenting his inability to hang out with his friends. In order to get lean and jacked, the guy cannot go out to eat, drink alcohol, or smoke weed. He wants to have his cake and eat it too, though honestly, who buys cake to not eat it?

What I am reading is the unwillingness to sacrifice. What you’ve heard about life is incorrect: you cannot have everything. You have to choose. The amount of effort and dedication required to be a stage-ready bodybuilder is immense. Those who go on that journey will have to forgo many things in order to achieve the goal. There are no shortcuts, you cannot have both.

It’s the wanting to have it all that leads to upset, depression, or raging against the night. People are pining for the impossible. The new parents who can’t stand to see their single friends hanging out and traveling. Sorry, the tremendous lack of sleep and non-existent social life is part of the deal. The bargain may feel Faustian, but one really can’t be resentful of their kids ruining the life they once had.

I too have felt the misery when I have to choose. For example: I love cars. I’ve been toying with buying another car to compliment the BMW M2. However, it would absolutely crater my long term financials. (I’ve already done it once.) I simply cannot keep two cars and hope to have money for other things I enjoy, such as travel, or expensive camera gear.

I can of course switch careers and get a higher-paying job, but that comes with its own trade-offs. Work-life balance would surely go to shits. Is it worth that just to feed the car enthusiast side of me?

Maybe. I don’t think there’s a wrong answer here. You make a choice, and a door opens while other doors have to close.

Matthew Perry

I am remised in writing about the untimely passing of Matthew Perry. My friends and I grew up watching him on the show Friends. It’s tremendously sad: a person who gave so much laughter and joy to the world cannot keep any for himself. Perry’s addiction to alcohol and drugs is widely known, so when I saw the news of his death, my first inclination was: “He could never outrun his demons.”

(To be sure: as of this writing, the cause of death is still under investigation. Perry was found unconscious in a hot tub.)

I haven’t the slightest idea what it’s like to be in that deep a mental funk, be it substance addiction, or severe depression. I have friends who are on anti-depressive drugs, and it’s always been a challenge for me to empathize with their plight. It’s like a fully healthy person having to level with a terminally-ill patient. The wavelength of understanding is completely different. All I can offer to my friends are platitudes. Sometimes I would feel guilty to be “normal” and “happy”, when they are in such a rut.

Perry surely had close friends that know of his situation and want him to get well. But they couldn’t do anything for him, just as I cannot do anything for my friends facing mental challenges. The battle cannot only be fought by the person dealing with the issues. Those of us on the sidelines can only wish them the best, and be there when asked.

And if it comes to an end, it was beautiful while it happened. Matthew Perry leaves an enormous legacy of comedic and acting talent for generations to enjoy. Rest well.