Chrisonomicon

Monday, January 6, 2003

The new year has floated in effortlessly, gliding as though on ice, wheels locked in a silent skid forward. The image is less menacing in my mind where the ice stretches towards the horizon and I know that I'll continue to coast if I choose to do so, yet I hold the key in my hand, numb with cold, and I squint through white-vapor'd breath to watch it turn. The engine rolls like a taffy pull.

I called today to check on a few part-time job possibilities, but no one needs help. I feel like one of the families in that episode of the Twilight Zone that forgot to build a bomb shelter. Everyone huddles into their jobs, "Sorry, no room." I have a secure job and can make do with what I have. Really, isn't that the point? As Sheryl Crow croons, "It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got."

My problem is slightly different. It's not a matter of wanting what I've got — which I do — rather, what I've got wants more from me. It has frozen the path in front of me with an infinite stretch of icy debt. There's dry ground on either side, however. All I have to do is turn the wheel and get movin'. I flip off the radio and turn the key. The engine roars to life.