sell a car on tv.

(This was written in 2008 during my school internship).

I think that most of the world has become jaded by the thought of “career” and “happiness” coexisting in harmony. The few who haven’t been inhaling the toxic fumes of cynicism, however, are either stuck with low-end jobs or scouring the streets for their calling to help them out from between the rock and the hard place. When you give it a bit of mental calculation, you’re left with the few in the employable age range who have recently died.

This is not a good thought. Especially not when you have a childhood-throwback session and realize that the best part of youth naiveté was the constant assurances of, “It’s okay. I will leave this town one day and be a writer/singer/actress/first astronaut to have sex on the moon, and I never have to deal with people pulling me down ever again.”

But instead of these encouraging words that I hear from my school tutor, what is thrown at me instead, when I expressed my interest to have a job that I’m – you know – interested in, was, in a tone that dripped with the syrup of condescendence, “But Nabilah. Interest is temporary.”

“I know,” I said, although I didn’t, and didn’t believe it either. “But…you know. It’d be nice.”

“You can be in a job you really like,” she continued, “but the novelty will wear off after a while.”

“I know,” I lied again.

She sighed. I sighed.

She probably guessed me as the wide-eyed child who thinks that being happy with a job would last for approximately a lifetime. I thought of her as the teacher who lost the passion for teaching after the 18-year old students turned into 8-year old brats. Either way, it wasn’t a fair judgment for both of us. Young and restless versus professional ‘realist’.

Everyone wants something for themselves. Some people crave the idea of having little change in their life, lack of drama and a smooth-sailing path to their grave. I want something with no routine, a lot of heart-pumping excitement and preferably a stereo system.

Case in point: my mom has been working in the same telecommunications company for twenty years. Almost every fortnight since the start of my deskbound internship, I dramatically enter the kitchen and wail, “How do you stand it? Sitting in the same place for so long, doing the same thing over and over? Why don’t you quit?!”

“Fine,” she’d lift a spatula for emphasis. “And you all can starve.”

“I mean,” I insisted, dogging her steps. “When you were younger, what did you want to be?”

“I’ve had a job since I was young,” she answered, completely not answering my question.

I groaned. “I never want an office job.”

“Then what are you going to do with your life?”

I shrugged. “Gig photography. Stay-at-home child. Not this anyway.”

“HAH,” she scoffed. “You better get a job.”

“I will,” I assured her (myself). “Doing something I actually like.”

And then my tutor’s voice would echo in the confines of my skull. Interest is temporary. Muahahahaha.

No, I don’t think it is. Not because I’m the type to live in fantasy land where everything is dandy and full of frappucinos, no. Although, okay, I am that type. But not in this case. If interest is “temporary”, then you shouldn’t pursue something when what you have is merely interest. Passion – I suppose that’s the right word. If you and It are meant to be, why does Time have to have a say? (Look at me, titling everything with my uppercases). Sure, you won’t be as excited as you were when you first start out – like every relationship, some things have to go stale.

But if you lack the wide-eyed spark to begin with, you’re just asking for corrosion. The fact that you have nothing to pursue morphs you into a programmed machine where your body controls your heart, instead of the other way round.

Again, not a very nice thought.

Most people need to find that spark again. It’s almost exactly like marriage – I’m not sure how I know the in-and-outs of marriage, but I suspect it’s the TV dramas. The world’s gone jaded, and it’s rather sad because there are still some coals to turn into diamonds. People just choose to ignore the dirt.

_______

Afternote: Just in case you care, my mom did quit earlier this year, and she’s a lot happier too. She loves baking and that’s literally almost all that she’s been doing. Coming home to mountains of newly discovered recipes put to practice the entire day? Who’s complaining?