If there’s anything 2011 did for my decision-making, it made it even more messed up. Thanks to my BRATs programme and acquaintanceship with new people, I am more confused than ever, and so it means that I can kiss my previous plans for pharmacy goodbye and embark on yet another mysterious and confounding journey. Enlightenment my ass, I want certainty. However all the baaaaawling will not get me anywhere, so I need to act – I need to start somewhere.
As a consolation, I know what I don’t want to be. Aside from my averseness to anything that requires me to lie through my teeth about the uselessness of a completely pointless product of greed in a pretty box, I don’t think I can stand to break my mother’s heart and venture into journalism. I have low self-esteem when it comes to my writing, and this is even more so for my ability to adhere to deadlines, binging on crackers and cheap coffee in the face of financial adversity. Yes – I am your average, passive little girl who wishes not to topple her home’s autocracy. I consider whether a job is profitable, because essentially, that is what a job is for. When I say profitable, I don’t mean money-raking, but sufficient. People who preach about how money is useless nauseate me. I don’t deny that money is a tool and money makes the world go round. People grovel in the dirt for it. People are killed for it. Granted, the world may be a better place if humans weren’t so obsessed with it. But it reeks of a downright ‘better-than-thou’ attitude, however sincere they may be. The prospect of eating maggi mee for a few weeks in a row because of fluctuating income isn’t very pleasant to me, but so is working in a cubicle.
Pharmacy WAS a choice, because I saw no other option. It just seemed like a logical next move, though it was an unfeeling decision. I am gradually finding it difficult to accept the image of me sitting behind Guardian’s pharmacy counter. No. I want to inject meaning into my life, but is my career the sole outlet to express myself in? Of course not. I don’t want to loathe my job and I trust in myself to do all that I can do avoid falling into that pit. But I also want to like it. At least like how I like my shit Nokia phone – serves its purpose and tolerable. The ultimate problem right now is that I have nothing to fight for. Sure, there were moments of compassion for the sick and poor. Once in a while I would find X subject interesting. But that was about it. Now I’m thinking – maybe I have to get over it and just pick a job that has a high probability of me being good at. This opens another can of worms but at least this time it’s a measurable problem.
One day I will look back at my young and silly self and think – what a naive little soul, the answer’s been right in front of her all along. Or will I still be searching for clarity. Cognizance.
