Living life on my own terms
If life in Singapore is a rat race, I am Minnie Mouse. My life decisions so far have been motivated more by whims and dreams than by promotions and ambitions.
A well-meaning friend once askd: 'Why do you write these bimbo-like personal columns? You should develop a career as a serious financial journalist, not an airhead.'
I have been tagged with labels such as 'airhead' and 'bimbo' so often, they have ceased to outrage or hurt me, although I cried when it first happened.
I told my friend amiably that I enjoy writing both personal pieces and financial ones, and I do not think they are mutually exclusive in my career.
Columns appeal to me because they distill my thoughts, frame my feelings and are in tune with my idiosyncratic sense of self-expression.
He disagreed.
He pointed out that my personal columns are destroying my credibility as a business journalist.
He advised me to focus on hard news and -- if I must give an opinion -- financial analyses.
He encouraged me to read fewer women's magazines and pay attention to reports in the International Herald Tribune, the kind of publication that might demonstrate I am part of the intelligentsia.
His message is simple and pragmatic: Don't do what you like to do. Do what yields the most returns.
No wonder my friend does not strike me as a happy man. I am not saying this out of malice or sarcasm. While I will not go as far as to say that glory and money is of no importance, neither will I stoop so low as to suspend my beliefs and happiness just to acquire them.
Sure, I will never win the Pulitzer Prize writing about sissy food and parallel-parking phobia. If I am spiralling down the path of 'bimbo-dom', so be it. I would rather this than mould myself constantly to fit other people's definition of success.
In Singapore's reigning ideology, the measure of success is very narrow. Go to a top-ranking school. Then get a swanky job title, preferably in an exclusive, seemingly cerebral industry like finance, climb the proverbial corporate ladder and we are on our way.
We don't celebrate mavericks. We try to convert them.
Four years ago, I was selected to join Singapore Press Holding's management trainee programme which puts fresh graduates on fast track and grooms them into managers.
I had excellent mentors and the future appeared promising.
But I was unhappy. Not wrecked-with-misery unhappy, it was just a flat feeling of incompleteness.
Since I was a little girl and my father brought me to Changi Airport to eat Swesens ice cream and tour the viewing gallery, I had a visceral longing to be an air stewardess. With each passing day at SPH, I was, by default, pushing away that dream, postponing my happiness.
Finally, I decided to fly.
The decision drew flak and ridicule from my family.
My sister considered me frivolous. My mother was livid. She could not reconcile why her daughter would want to give up such a good oportunity and be a 'high-class waitress'.
Even now, I am still the butt of 'coffee, tea or me' jokes.
I don't mind. If I can live life all over again, I would do exactly the same thing.
There will always be people who judge us, pigeon-hole us and advise us how to improve our lives. They may care about us deeply but who is to say that their methods will defintely work?
The only definition of success I subscribe to is my friend Siew Ling's.
She said: "Success is not the esteem of colleagues, the appreciation of clients or the admiration of the community. Success is the certain knowledge that I am free to make choices and live life on my own terms."
A well-meaning friend once askd: 'Why do you write these bimbo-like personal columns? You should develop a career as a serious financial journalist, not an airhead.'
I have been tagged with labels such as 'airhead' and 'bimbo' so often, they have ceased to outrage or hurt me, although I cried when it first happened.
I told my friend amiably that I enjoy writing both personal pieces and financial ones, and I do not think they are mutually exclusive in my career.
Columns appeal to me because they distill my thoughts, frame my feelings and are in tune with my idiosyncratic sense of self-expression.
He disagreed.
He pointed out that my personal columns are destroying my credibility as a business journalist.
He advised me to focus on hard news and -- if I must give an opinion -- financial analyses.
He encouraged me to read fewer women's magazines and pay attention to reports in the International Herald Tribune, the kind of publication that might demonstrate I am part of the intelligentsia.
His message is simple and pragmatic: Don't do what you like to do. Do what yields the most returns.
No wonder my friend does not strike me as a happy man. I am not saying this out of malice or sarcasm. While I will not go as far as to say that glory and money is of no importance, neither will I stoop so low as to suspend my beliefs and happiness just to acquire them.
Sure, I will never win the Pulitzer Prize writing about sissy food and parallel-parking phobia. If I am spiralling down the path of 'bimbo-dom', so be it. I would rather this than mould myself constantly to fit other people's definition of success.
In Singapore's reigning ideology, the measure of success is very narrow. Go to a top-ranking school. Then get a swanky job title, preferably in an exclusive, seemingly cerebral industry like finance, climb the proverbial corporate ladder and we are on our way.
We don't celebrate mavericks. We try to convert them.
Four years ago, I was selected to join Singapore Press Holding's management trainee programme which puts fresh graduates on fast track and grooms them into managers.
I had excellent mentors and the future appeared promising.
But I was unhappy. Not wrecked-with-misery unhappy, it was just a flat feeling of incompleteness.
Since I was a little girl and my father brought me to Changi Airport to eat Swesens ice cream and tour the viewing gallery, I had a visceral longing to be an air stewardess. With each passing day at SPH, I was, by default, pushing away that dream, postponing my happiness.
Finally, I decided to fly.
The decision drew flak and ridicule from my family.
My sister considered me frivolous. My mother was livid. She could not reconcile why her daughter would want to give up such a good oportunity and be a 'high-class waitress'.
Even now, I am still the butt of 'coffee, tea or me' jokes.
I don't mind. If I can live life all over again, I would do exactly the same thing.
There will always be people who judge us, pigeon-hole us and advise us how to improve our lives. They may care about us deeply but who is to say that their methods will defintely work?
The only definition of success I subscribe to is my friend Siew Ling's.
She said: "Success is not the esteem of colleagues, the appreciation of clients or the admiration of the community. Success is the certain knowledge that I am free to make choices and live life on my own terms."
Dec 9, 2003
Streats
Hereby sharing with you another article from Janice Wong's book - SPG : Single Picky Girl. Hope you will like it and gain some insight from it!
Comments
i hope i wasn't the one who slapped disappointment in ur face but if i was, i'm sorry!
and i hope the Diya-Daren tingy didnt make u upset... cause i didnt expect u to be THAT fanatic. for me, i'm ok even if Diya won. (: (:
CNY's coming! triple yay! (:
Love,
qiqiqiqiqi