Sunday, August 30, 2009

I need to fill my life with doing. There is a lack of doing lately.

Without doing things, you're left to your own devices, and that's pretty scary. In a couple of weeks, I'll have to lead the bible study of emptiness/fulfillment, supposedly the gay theological world. I wonder if being straight might have turned out a different biblical survey result for me. I'm not too sure. But this emptiness thing sure feels very gay. Well on the surface I suppose it is. But of late, I've been psycho-analysing self....[not exactly a very good or useful thing to do, but nonetheless my thoughts have an autonomy of their own]... and the insights have been pretty humbling. Like for example, once you get your ego out of the way, there is alot of clarity when you do actually start thinking about your real perspectives, and what drives them.

It isn't so easy to explain, and there are many things all piled haphazardly all over which I find hard to articulate in a comprehensible way. But I could try. Like for starters, I need to fill my life with doing. Getting an internship would be really good, mentally. Being busy has its benefits. Some days I feel really free, with nothing on my plate to do. But that's not always a good thing, I end up spending too much time thinking. Or I trawl my pile of unread books and bury self in them. Sometimes I think reading distracts people from reality, or at worse, creates unrealistic images. The bookish live in a bubble, and I see my own bubble at times. It's there alright, partly reinforced by some reality and partly created by ideas. But idealism doesn't always turn out to be real for you. Although that's a bitter pill you have to swallow.

I discovered long ago that what makes life really worthy were the human interactions I had. Those are my greatest, clearest and dearest memories. I'm not so sure being an extrovert/people-person is entirely good. Then again I'm not sure if I'm actually an introvert, made extroverted by societal pressure and convention. Why I suspect this is because there are many times, I'd rather go for events by myself than invite anyone to 'accompany me'. If I wanted to do something, I never really feel the need to ask someone else to accompany me blah blah blah, although that would be nice. It is only later after such occurences that I realise maybe it would be good to put in some effort to get company. But then again, the acquiring of company might detract from the allure of the event itself. Like how it is perfectly alright for me to go watch movies on my own. Or maybe that's why I thrived in my month-long US solo trip.

But there were also many times that having people around enriched things. Sometimes when I look back, I realised the things I miss the most, were the conversations. I miss a lot of things really. I miss the times when it felt like you didn't have to worry about judgement, what it feels like to be safe. I miss the times when you cook up silly stories or jokes with others. I miss the 'codes' and 'passwords' and special lingo that can be invented. These things don't come easy, and honestly I don't have many of those instances. Which, I guess, makes me miss them all the more. I miss what comes naturally. The last thing I need is a manufactured ideal, I think.

You're young, they say. [yeah yeah, yada yada] I have one year left. Slightly less. I'm not very involved anymore in school. And after that, I'll be joining the drones of workers. Things will be vastly different when work starts. I know I would be different for example. As a grown-up there are many other things to consider, and responsibilities to handle. I have many more issues to think about, like career advancement for instance. Life gets riskier. Make a mistake and it could be a fatal blow. Bye bye job. I'm not sure if I would give up certain wants for that. Or if I had the guts and capacity to. I'm not sure I'll welcome it. Truth be told, it's scary.


Confidence is a roller-coaster.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

New funny tagline that never fails lol:

From chihuahua to pitbull, when there was a golden retriever in front of her all this while. What the fuck.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Somehow today feels like it will be the last time. From here on, there will be no more. No more need. Or reason. Today is the end. It's a little bittersweet I guess. Knowing that I had a hand in burying it, had a part in its destruction. He's right I guess, to say that making an attack means risking your queen. Check-mate.

It's end game for me now. End-game for us I guess. I don't see much hope for the future, or any future that is. Things certainly feel different. Like tainted, somehow. Just as how things are not the same last time. I don't know how I'd react in the future, but frankly right now, I can't imagine having to deal with it again. A clean cut would be good perhaps? Maybe.

Maybe some things are better dead. I used to have a friend I could not imagine not having. Maybe as time passes, she would cease to mean anything to me. Even as a friend.

Sad result I think. But it seems we are hurtling towards that outcome. I don't want to expect anything positive, because disappointment is never too far away with things like this. Some days it feels even more regretful, when I remember that WY said that she could've been a friend for life. Cos you just don't come across good friends as you grow older and older. Such people get more and more rare.

But if this is how it'll be then I'll let it be. For I'm done salvaging things that are broken, I think certain things are no longer up to me. Furthermore, the responses to my efforts have kind of left a bad taste in my mouth. Yes, things have certainly changed. I don't feel like I know who I'm really dealing with anymore. They feel different. I'm not sure either, if trying to piece together friendship is even what's best. And just like that, another person walks in and out of your life. Almost as though you never met them.

Feels... so much like a waste of my time in school. Pity.


I thought practice makes things easier. Somehow, things seem to get harder as you grow older. And repeat your past. So much for practice makes perfect.

I feel more torn as the end of school looms.

I've only got one more year, and after that, everything else is up to me. ME! How scary is that? I've got to figure out my own career path. No more set formula of advancement mandated for you. No more, progress from primary to secondary to junior college to university. Just mug hard and God will take care of the rest. A no-brainer really.

Now I've got to figure out what I really want with my life. What my life is going to look like for the next 40 years. Hell. It's a huge undertaking. And the more I explore the scarier it looks. I don't know how the hell I ended up in business school. How does one knows at age 18 that business is what they want to study? How the hell does one know that investment banking, or accounting, or consulting is their true calling? How do people find pleasure in these..... money-making pursuits? I call it money making because the salaries are huge and it seems to me the only real reason why people pursue these things. Yes, it's also mentally challenging and that has its own satisfactory value as well. But the core of the career itself... how is that fulfilling? How is finding solutions for companies, studying companies, assessing, evaluating companies... a fulfilling job? I just can't find the intrinsic value in it besides the nice 'side-effects' a.k.a. good salary and mental challenge.

If cake-baking was a multi-million career. I swear to God that will be people rushing to take courses in such and doing it not because the rising of dough has its own kind of magic that works on them but it's the money that they are seeing at the end of the line. Yes, true. There are some who really are interested in finance and numbers and abstract concepts, but I think these are the rare few ones. There are some who have started businesses during their growing up years and have tasted entrepreneurship and really developed a passion for it. But what about the rest of us? Who have no 'experience' with business at all until we are plunged into studying for it, cos it seem like the 'right path to go'. Herd mentality.

Are we selling out?

You know I've seen so many stories of that successful investment banker who finally quit his job after 10 years only to start a bakery/work in the food industry. They take on lower pay, more arduous physical labour, because they finally realised what truly gives them job satisfaction. And that all the money in the world, wasn't worth wasting your life away at the 'right career path'.

There are times that I feel like asking these people: If you had a chance to start your career path all over again. Would you still have gone into business as you did, knowing that this isn't what you truly enjoy. I don't know. Maybe these people have earned enough such that they can afford to 'indulge' their hobbies, without worrying about rent or things like that. But what if you're a fresh grad, and you've got parents to take care of, so much money that needs to be made for your future. For things like car, house, vacation. Money to acquire those material things that you're used to right now, begotten from your parents' income which in a couple of years would cease to flow upon retirement.

There are days I wish I was born into a super-rich family. So that I could study what I really want to study, do what I really want to do, without having to worry about money and supporting the family. Because everytime I go into the kitchen, there is just this nagging voice in my head that is trying to tell me something. And that I cannot keep avoiding this nagging voice because the finishing line is drawing closer, and soon I would have to make a choice.

A choice I don't really want to regret.

You see, I've done a few jobs so far. Office jobs, and the SB job. And I can say that the SB job was the one I truly loved. Sure the pay sucked, sure I stood on my feet all day, sure it was physically exhausting. But for the first time I actually look forward to going to work, that everyday was fun. Utterly fun. Even though I was doing the same things on repeat. Somehow, making the same kind of sandwiches never bored me. Seeing cheese melt and the bread crusted to a perfect golden brown never failed to amaze and intrigue me. I never get sick of these things. I never get sick of chopping stuff, of frying garlic, of cooking the same things again. But I get sick of doing math sums, I get sick of studying reports I feel nothing for. But I never get sick of doing what I do in the kitchen, even though I fail sometimes.

That's another thing that's holding me back, giving me doubts. I'm no great cook. Sure, I've had some successes here and there. But they aren't super-spectacular sell-outs. They aren't the kind that would spark a food craze. Then again, I could argue that I've never really devoted enough time to this passion of mine. That maybe perhaps if I put in the same amount of time into drawing, public speaking and other pursuits, I could hone it into an art. I don't know. But right now, I don't feel like I'm good enough at this to carve a niche out of it.

It's funny you know, there are many interests that we have. The 'marketable' interests that I have, such as art and public speaking... have use in the workplace. I like to write essays too, argue logic etc. This craft I've honed through school and it has served me well in scoring the As. But these are just things that I like to do, these are not things that I would wake up in the middle of the night for, these are not things that I would day-dream about, that occupies my thoughts. These things that I merely like, I can be really good at. Excel even.

But they don't mean anything more than that.

Conversely, the things I'm really passionate about. I suck at. The things that keep me up at night, I'm only mediocre, or sometimes an utter failure. Like softball: mediocre. Sure I started learning it pretty late, and naturally so, I'm not very good at compared to those who've done it far longer. I would think about softball everyday in JC. It was the reason why I chose N J and I only came to school for it. Then there is cooking: sub-par. Some successes here and there, but nothing good enough to actually sell. And many of my recipes? Gotten online or learnt from others. The ones I created myself, I would say is above average and certainly is not restaurnt-standard. Well duh. And of cos, women: epic. fail. Why do I bother sometimes I wonder. I have no fate with them.

So I don't know. I am willing to learn. That is definite. I've long considered, and long fantasised about the chance to go to cooking school. To learn, properly, the art of cooking and the science behind it as well. How to wield a knife properly, how to complement flavours etc. Right now I just 'pin gan jue' and cook. I add whatever spice I feel would taste good together. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. But I've never really practiced enough at it anyway.

I don't know.

I'm not sure... if I want to be that investment banker who quits her job 10 years down the road because she finally had the courage (and the money) to pursue her passion. Yes I can see myself doing well in the corporate world, I'm not sure if I can see a happy me.

G says to finish my degree first and take it from there. At least you have something to fall back on. Safety nets. It's good to have these things, but I'm not sure this is what makes life worth living. And worse of all, I know I hate to make mistakes, I hate failure, I hate creating situations that cannot be undone. Situations that put me in a worse state than that I began in. I've done it before, and I hated it. And this is a big step to take, I'm not even sure if passion can sustain me. Maybe I would find something to dislike about down the road, when the going gets tough. I've disliked drawing before, when it got tougher. I'm not sure if this is serious enough. I'm not sure if I am marketable enough in this area.

I don't know. I don't know which is a worse regret, or worse mistake. Screwing up my livelihood or selling myself out.



I need a career counsellor. Not the SM U kind. Not a fellow student. But someone who has been there, and done that.


Help.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Life has been good lately =)

Steak on Saturday was a success. Sure I nearly smoked the entire house cos the oil ran out on a non-stick pan and when this happens, smoke gets created. But I made a damn good, yet damn simple steak sauce. It shall be my secret steak weapon from now on.

On saturday and sunday, I finally learnt the true meaning of worship and I must say I am really thankful that I came for the worship conference. There is definitely a paradigm shift right now and I can say I am truly humbled by what I see. Thank you God.


Popiah making occured today. Great as usual. And I've finished the entire series of Fables. Yays! There are still plenty of stay-at-home entertaintment options yet to be explored yet and school is already threatening to start! eeps.

UP tomorrow. Cheese-tasting and cell tomorrow. So exciting, yay!

-------

My other worries such as buying of textbooks, can go fuck themselves right now. *pleasant smile*

Wednesday, August 05, 2009

A metaphor today.

There are many things that define our self-worth. It's different for each person. For myself, art is one of them. To me, art is representative of something deeper within. It's an example of drive. That there is nothing that could stop me if I wanted it bad enough. That I am not someone who gives up. How I came upon my artistic abilities today was due to that drive. In the past, I wanted to draw as well as the artists of my comic books. And so everyday for almost two months, I would spend hours drawing and tracing while staring at the hallowed pages in front of me. And I didn't stop till I could mimick with realism the art in those books. I was eight then.

When the holidays ended, it was the new school year. We had some drawing assignment. Suddenly the teacher was raving about my homework and other students were impressed as well. I remember my primary 5 days as one whereby I was constantly consulted during our so-called art exams (when students should be quiet instead of talking), when the aspiring artist in the prefect (someone with greater social hierarchy than me) would ask my opinion on her art and how to improve. When talent grew from nothing but sheer effort. That there was nothing that I couldn't create within me if I didn't try hard enough.

Art was my self-worth. Because it represented drive.

Fast forward a couple of years, and now Toastmasters and public speech is representative of this drive. That if I work hard enough, nothing, no excellence, is beyond my reach. And the same applied to physical abilities. I would cycle pass the Golden Gate bridge and up that insane hill within the hour even if it kills me. But I would never give in to the difficulty or the pain of the task. Nothing was insermountable, no mountain (literally) was too high. I refused to be defeated in anything I set out to do.

It has been awhile since pencil touched paper for me. At US C, I decided to revisit this oft-neglected ability of mine. Because it still meant something to me. Art was one of those 'attributes', those 'plus points' in the measurement of worth. It was part of the value in me, and I thought that it should be nurtured. So I decided to join the arts class, once more to revisit the fruit that was my labour at age 8.

I've learnt a lot of new things in my class. Firstly, that art can be separated into two categories. One is realism, the other abstraction. Realism was the first kind of art to be created. In the early days, art served the purpose of 'representation'. It was used by teachers, by historians, by explorers to capture the images of new things discovered. They had no cameras then, only the pencil and sketchbook to show others what new plant or animal species they had uncovered through their explorations. The primitives drew images on caves and civilised ancients drew murals depicting ways of life. All as a means of communicating and recording something. So the more realistic the image was to the real thing, the more effective the communication. That is realistic art.

The second type of art flourished after the need for representation was less pertinent. This kind of art is the abstraction that we see today. It's purpose is for 'expression' and no longer mere representation. Abstract art requires more complex thought by the viewer, who has to discern the meaning of the art piece itself as it is not literally communicated.

I don't excel at abstract art, and I find it child's play anyway. Because to me, real talent comes from realism. The ability to create something that leaps out from the page and cannot be defined just by the pencil or charcoal that belies its foundation. Art that is as real as the thing itself. Because anybody can draw three lines and call it abstract art, but not just anybody can draw an animal that needs no caption but yet can be identified.

In my arts class, your talent is a barometer of your grade. And since art is something that is so exceedingly difficult to teach, to improve upon, to impart. That talent became a measure of your worth and your status in class. In my mind, I considered the most realist artists as the best, and with each showing of each others' artwork, a mental hierarchy of the students would form in my head. I would say I stand high up there. Why? Certain things. Like comments made by the professor, and comments by students who were 'lesser' in the talent spectrum, who annoint you with praises. And then there are the fellow museum-goers, themselves clueless about art but stop anyway to look at your work-in-progress, and then glance at the exhibit in question and then gasp and shower praises again. And you know, every other student knows, who's really good at the art and who isn't. Surprisingly, it was the asian girls that had the most talent even though our class was mostly white. I'm not the best, that I do know. But for the business student with no art background, I was satisfied with where I stood.

And so despite the heavy workload of this course, it was the course I most adored because it reaffirmed me. Reaffirmed the value of my drive and what it could create. And so every piece of art was laboured upon, laboured difficultly because I have not drawn a long time but yet it is something you never forget once learnt, like how to ride a bicycle. At times I think I went beyond what I thought was physically possible to achieve with just these few tools - pen, charcoal, eraser. And it made my efforts all the more dear to me.

There have been many who have seen my actual life-sized art from US C and appreciated it. After all, as someone committed to creating realist art, it shouldn't be that difficult to appreciate no? After all, it's not abstract art. I guess it must have been telling. When once, for the first time, there was someone who actually said that she couldn't discern good art from bad. Especially with mine.

It jarred me a little. For it was the first time that someone has seen my art and cannot measure its worth (either good or bad!). To hear this from that person especially, and most incredibly of all that my art could be unfathomable to someone else. Is it possible that something so simple as beauty can fail to be appreciated. Is it possible that one can be blind to the obvious.

Art is intrinsically me. Maybe I should have understood immediately the ramifications, saw quickly the larger picture represented. Maybe somethings cannot, were not, meant to be ever appreciated. Even though to the creator, it is as plain as day.