Thursday, November 1, 2012

The property bill sitting in my mailbox today wasn’t a shock at all. I expected it to hit around this time of year, and I ballparked the damage well before the punchline emerged from the envelope. I knew the impending savings crunch, too–were I smarter, I would’ve socked away a tiny bit from each paycheck months and months ago, but I never have the wherewithal to adopt this habit. Instead, I end up socking away bigger chunks of cheddar from the pay periods leading up to the deadline. Again, though, standard operating procedure.

What took me by surprise was the sentiment the piece of paper evoked, a feeling of being trapped. I’ve shared this with you before, and it’s only obliquely related to the tax itself. The invoice will be paid in full, rest assured. The feeling has more to do with the sameness of it all–another tax bill, another year. I had hoped skill acquisition and sociability would pave an easy exit, last time we spoke about this, but I’m shuttering the former idea. I just haven’t cared to learn anything new lately.

Sociability’s still important, of course, and in place of skill acquisition is creation. I’m consuming things all the time. Why not try to make something instead, give myself fully to the toil and treasure of the act? There’s something brewing, but I don’t want to talk about it yet, for fear of snuffing out the spark. I’m sorry if I sound too lofty or abstract, so let me be clear here: I’d like to sell out! I’d sell out in an instant.