Dying Daily #207: Taxes

I am not as anti-tax as I should be.

It’s annoying that someone has the ability to take money away from me without my consent, but it seems to be the price we pay for living in a society where we don’t have to worry about raiders coming over the hill raping and pillaging. I also try to be aware just how fortunate I am, and remember that I drive on roads and can call an ambulance if run my mouth a little too much and Barbara body slams me.

On the other hand, I get it when people are angry with how their tax dollars are spent.

That the government is simultaneously malicious and incompetent seems like a given. I understand people being frustrated how their money is used to help others because it is done so ineffectively, and I get people not wanting to see $60,000,000 literally go up in flames on a Syrian airbase.

I don’t really feel any of that is my business because its not within my control.

This is the time and place and culture I have been born into, and I only have control over how I respond. I am frequently encouraged not to claim the cash I take in for a few reasons. Some make the case that I will do more good with it than the government will, others that we are taxed too heavily as it is. While I don’t necessarily disagree with them, integrity (in my mind) dictates that I only do this if I am willing to plainly acknowledge my choice in the case of an audit, so I claim every dollar that comes my way. I don’t know why but it is important to me that I be able to say that any unclaimed money is a mistake and not intentional on my part.

That’s just me and my perception of honesty, I get why people don’t claim cash. Honestly, no criticism here. I don’t mind admitting taxes can stress me out if I am not mindful of the process. It’s much more complicated than it needs to be, and the whole process seems so opaque that I feel like it is inevitable that I screw up somewhere along the way. 

If we think about it, we are taxed in multiple ways for being alive, everything is trade-off that we don’t have any control over.

We trade the years of our lives for experience and memories and we can’t move on to anything new without leaving some things behind. I suppose the percentage of money I send in every 3 months is just a more contrived version of this. 

Or maybe that’s just what I tell myself.