Tuesday, September 15, 2015
the assassin's bullet
All of this passed idly through my mind this morning as I assessed my discontent in household events that disrupted my habits and patterns. It was nothing serious, but I disliked being thrown off my habitual course ... coffee, writing, emailing, walking -- I wanted my habitual ducks lined up, however mundane and old-age-y they might be. Habits were easier and more companionable than spurs and side tracks. No curve balls need apply and, where they did, a certain crankiness/quasi-panic rose up: I resented having to recalibrate and bring things back to 'normal.'
And it was then that I thought of the assassin and how easy my state of mind would make his task. A creature of habit fits neatly into the sights of some mildly-imaginative assassin.
The only trouble with this comic-book scenario was that at this point in my life, I don't really do anything that would be worth the assassin's bullet.
And that was mildly depressing.
The rule of thumb is to "dodge the bullet" or elude the danger, wherever it comes from. No one wants to get hurt, much less assassinated. So, in other times, there were all sorts of maneuvers to duck or parry or preserve and protect. Social graces, able philosophies, defensive ramparts, the buck and shuffle that keeps things coherent.
There is something gloomy about recognizing that I am not even worth the assassin's bullet. It makes me want to rush right out and do something naughty or offensive. But that would take more energy than I want to or can expend.
It would be nice, in some sense, to think I was worth an assassin's bullet.