As raw and unfiltered some of my writing is, it isn’t good enough. It is better than some, but not good. It is never finished. But I also know that it is too important not to try, because regardless of all the things I will face in life- successes, failures, salary increments (look for parity of pay and not the initial starting salary), one day, I will die. Not just because I am currently reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close and I am wearing heavy boots because of that boy and that book, but because as humans we will all die. There is no enjoyable immortality.
It is important to be in the moment because we will never have this same moment ever again. It is important to live along the people we value, because they will never be the same people again. The experiences I have- a mix of unusual gifts and time- I will never relive them again. Only because they are fleeting, they are rare, and what is rare is valuable. But the process of writing- because I am never getting at what I actually want to say, because whatever I write is just…words. It is not an experience. I can rarely elevate it into an experience for the person reading it. Hence I am always dissatisfied. It is just a word count that I’m trying to hit.
I attended a thermofisher talk just now- it was about what headhunters in the life sciences industry look out for. The speaker drew a staircase, stepwise, where you started out at 23 and ended where he was- at 56. He was saying that he had a computer engineering degree, and then went into sales, and then headhunting, and finally started his own talent acquisition agency working with thermofisher as one of his clients. He changed industries, changed jobs, changed life paths. Could he have predicted where he would end up in his early twenties? Nope. Am I trying to predict where I will end up in my late 50s? I think I am, because I am certain Singapore is not where I want to be. It is too kiasu/kiasi/lack of diversity. We might have different skin colours but the same Singaporean mindset- good for some things, bad for other situations. Maybe this mentality of wanting to escape the melting pot in which I was born is making me anxious about my job, because the earlier I get out the better. To me.
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
― Anaïs Nin