Thinking about creativity in tax class
I promise I am generally a good and well-meaning law student.
I am writing this in tax class. I sit in the front row of the classroom; the professor sits diagonally across me. He’s been talking about gross income, and he’s been using a lot of acronyms. I am not able to comprehend. I tried for 5 minutes. Maybe it’s a me-problem. I know I will regret this inattention come finals week, but for now, I just want to write.
My mind often runs amuck in times like this—uneasy and finding it difficult to pay attention in class; everything is starting to sound monotone. I miss writing. I miss the feeling. Or, in general, I miss feelings. But my life does not allow me to sit with my feelings in long intervals.
I often think about how much I have bifurcated my life, for mostly self-imposed ways. No one asked me to go to law school; no one asked me to pursue an e-mail job. But I did anyway. For reasons I know exist within me, in solid form, but are currently too deep inside me to grab and tangibly feel. I do like this life though and, more palpably, I need it. But I long so much for my creative roots.
So now, I sit in tax class, wondering what it means to live a creative life.
-
I had a joke with a group of friends from college. One was an artist (as he liked to draw), the other was the art (as she was beautiful), and I am artsy. Which means I had all the sensibilities and pretentions that would make an artist, but none of the technical skills. It was easy back then to be comfortable with that notion. I was, after all, taking a writing degree. In a way, I had my craft. Whether or not I was good at it is a different matter altogether. I did not seriously get into writing poetry ever, or fiction—which are mostly what we think about when we think of creative writers—but I knew how to let a feeling simmer into craft. In a way, I had legitimated and institutionally validated avenues to actualize my creative ambitions. I had a creative life, and I was a creative.
But now I sit in tax class. I think the professor is talking about final withholding taxes. I’ll figure this out on my own in two to three weeks, as I study for finals. Whatever.
What does it mean to live a creative life? Looking back and well into my twenties, I realize I conflated the creative life into a heavily aestheticized life. Understandable. After all, in my teens to early 20s, all I wanted was an apartment with a big window and the sun seeping in. I got that eventually and it felt so good. I put up a little bright pink wind chime I got from Boracay. I have a bookshelf with artwork I picked up from my travels. I have a wall of postcards and artworks from art markets. My bed sheets are pink. All of these things are heavily featured in my Instagram feed. To this day, it is still one of my favorite parts of my life, if not my favorite—my apartment with a giant window and a view of the mountains.
However, these days, I keep the blinds down; I find the 7 am sun too bright. My balcony remains settled with dust, only marked by hesitant footprints I have created the few times I step out to hang clothes to dry. I like to stay inside now. I have to anyway. Law school and my email job demand so much of me.
An hour left in this class. I write this on my laptop; beside it is my Kindle. I always bring it with me to remind myself to read, and that I read. I am always haunted by the books I haven’t read; all the interesting things I can know but am unable to. I still read quite a lot. I make a point to try. But not as much as I want to. Never as much as I want to. Especially recently. I’ve been avoiding scrolling on Goodreads. Instead, in my other tab on this same laptop I am writing this on is a book called “Tax Made Less Taxing.” People in law school recommend it; they say it’s fun. They say it’s interesting. I’ve had it on my device since last summer. I still do not fully understand what capital assets mean.
The obvious answer is that a creative life means to engage in the act of creating. And perhaps this is my attempt. Keeping a little Substack I fail to maintain, still going around telling people I used to be, or that I am, a writer (depends really on the crowd, or my self-esteem). But I haven’t released an essay in a few months; my calendar still pings from a reminder set by my friend (“PUBLISH SUBSTACK”); my computer is littered with half-written drafts and ideas I cannot seem to conclude. I do not know how to be a proper writer. I do not know if I ever will be one. Perhaps what I’ll be is a former-creative-now-future-lawyer. Or perhaps there is a future where the bifurcation is unnecessary, and where everything fit.
At least, for tonight, in my tax class I know this:
(1) Capital Assets. – The term ‘capital assets’ means property held by the taxpayer (whether or not connected with his trade or business), but does not include stock in trade of the taxpayer or other property of a kind which would properly be included in the inventory of the taxpayer if on hand at the close of the taxable year or property held by the taxpayer primarily for sale to customers in the ordinary course of his trade or business, or property used in the trade or business, of a character which is subject to the allowance for depreciation provided in Subsection (F) of Section 34; or real property used in trade or business of the taxpayer. [Sec. 39, NIRC]
Creative things I’ve consumed and liked lately
· Enter Ghost by Isabella Hamad (now reading) – I think Sally Rooney recommended this book in an interview. Not sure. It’s about an actor who returned to her hometown in Palestine to join a play.
· Thinking through Fashion A Guide to Key Theorists – applies critical theory to fashion analysis. Organized per thinker (Karl Marx, Judith Butler, Roland Barthes, etc) and in chronological order to trace historicity of thought. Reminds me of university. I am enjoying it a lot.
· Intermezzo by Sally Rooney – admittedly not initially a fan of Rooney when I first read Normal People and Conversations with Friends. Intermezzo is not a favorite book, but it was an engrossing reading experience. Rooney of course captures the depth of human interaction and textures of relationships really well. I do recommend it still, and might even re-read Normal People.
· Charlie’s Toolbox (podcast) – available on Spotify. Quick insightful episodes. It’s almost like self-help but feminist? A few gems among the episodes.