why not

long time ago, i wrote in my other blog that the "high life" was not for me. i was saying this in connection with having met my husband through teaching theology at university.

reading over this 'those-were-the-days' blog entry, there was so much i wanted to show, so much i wanted to establish in this cyberworld. i shan't link to it because i don't want those kinds of details occupying the foreground of your reading mind. i like this present set-up where you deal with my ideas without having to wonder where i'm from or what i do in this lifetime. (although i'm sure that we all want to do some exegesis of the person, know his context so we can better appreciate the story)

anyhow, i've always taken for granted the fact that i'm not cut out for the inner-lane existence, the yuppie life, the fast-track career. i used to think i was. i butted my head applying for some high-profile jobs in the past. there must have been a reason then for my turning down some offers and for getting rejected by some, too. i did have a two-year stint with a telecommunications company after my volunteer year. i remembered thinking, "i want to feel money in my hand. money that doesn't disappear the minute i get it."

sure, i had fun driving around on my own gas (literally), buying things i fancied, going to parties here and there... but it didn't seem to be enough. i was bored. i needed something more. i just didn't know what. so in my 2nd year in the corporate world, i started my MA. my boss then thought i was doing an MBA. when he found out i was doing an arts degree, he exclaimed, "what the hell will you do with that???" i must have killed him in my mind with a thousand flying daggers, but i also must have forgiven him for his jack-ass comment. of course he was in that silly thought-box that said, "if you want to make it big, you'll get an MBA." all i could hear in my head was this retort: "that's a load of horse-shit. why the hell would i want to be stuck with a boring MBA? hellow..." i mean, the corporate was boring me to tears and he wanted me to get an MBA? i'd be like a dog chasing his tail, nowhere near any answer. or satisfaction. i must have come into the realisation somewhere down the road that it wasn't so much that i wasn't getting enough; it was that i wasn't doing what was right. it wasn't so much a matter of things i hadn't yet done, but of doing things the proper way.

i know that after 8 years of teaching english, i feel burned out. my colleagues don't think much of me in this field; i can't do anything inspiring to prove to myself (or to them) that they're wrong. i consider this belgium stint a hiatus to recoup. i am trying to reaffirm what my strengths are and what i can realistically accomplish and for what i can aspire. i've recently discerned that in spite of my being burned out with teaching english to spoiled (read: rich and materialistic) college students, i still want to teach. there will be silly students, those who just want to get the latest cell phone or buy the latest fashionable things, but sometimes, they may just be mirroring my own silly ideas of what youth should be like. i mean, that's what being young is for, right? to make silly decisions and act in silly ways. sometimes, i think, i may have forgotten that i had been young once. with silly concerns. when this strikes, i realise that maybe those atenistas in my classroom weren't so bad after all. and that's when i just miss the whole teaching enterprise. i don't even have to teach english anymore (although i would still consider teaching english language and poetry, given the chance). if i'm to be happy in it, it would be music.

but i never miss being an up-and-coming corporate lackey. i just don't. i'm just not cut out for the daily grind. working fixed hours. pouring out my talents for profit.

i'm the kind of person who needs a job to fund my dreams. the pay is incidental; what is central is enjoying what i do. i get becky bloomwood moments, especially during sales. i yearn for tons of money if only to be able to buy cool sports wear or those boots i've been eyeing for months, or this nifty turtleneck that would look good against that new coat i got a few weeks ago... but these moments are like pebbles skittering across the tops of waves. once the urge passes, it's gone. until the next stimulus. until the next covetuous moment.

and having said all that, i hope to have come closer to asserting why... not.