Sunday, December 05, 2004

Næem's nagging annoyances

A while ago, before I came to my uni's computer lab to vegetate in front of a computer as usual, I sat outside of the uni for a while at a bench that had a magnificent view of the beautiful scenery that surround my uni.... miles and miles of green grass with heaps of tall trees, colourful flower bushes here and there, and white puffy clouds in the bright blue sky above. In the distance, there is a big lake where ducks and other water birds happily frolick around. In the further distance, there is a farm, where cows happily graze on the green grass, unknowingly fattening themselves up for the slaughter house. A bird with a dead worm in its beak hopped around the bench I was sitting at for a while, probably trying to decide where to settle down and enjoy it's catch, before another bird came along and tried to steal the first bird's food with a threatening squeak and a flutter. And it was here in these idealistic surroundings where I contemplated two of the biggest annoyances currently bogging down my thoughts:

Annoyance no. 1: I have a severe case of poet's block. Yes, it's just the same as writer's block, except that I can't write poems, or songs, anymore. I have so many things I would love to write about, but for some reason, it no longer comes so easily to me to express my contemplations in the form of poems. And I've had it for quite a while. There was a time, at the end of 2001, when I spent my holidays just writing a heap of poems, and most of those were some of the best I had written. After that, my poetic streak just sizzled out, and now, three years later, I seem to have run out of fresh ideas. And indeed, most of my old poems have followed this similar pattern of rhyme and structure and simple vocabulary that I now find boring. I want to change my style, yet keep reverting back to my old formulas. I want to use more boombastic words, but such big words are difficult to fit into the flow of a poem... and I don't wanna end up like some Shakespear-wannabe poets whose poems use words so complicated I don't understand the point of their poems.
Perhaps another problem is now that I have matured and have had more experiences, my thoughts have become just too complicated, too rushed, too unfocused, to be able to put in the form of simple poems. I usually end up trying to think of how to write on one topic, but my mind drifts off to another topic, and the thread never ends. So I can hardly ever sit down nowadays and say to myself, "I'm going to write about this" without soon thinking of something else and never even getting my poem started. And because of that, I've become more of a writer than a poet (hence the birth of Næem's Neverending Nonsense, which has been filled with quite a bit of nonsense already!). Which is good, in a way.... but poems are still my first love. The satisfaction of creating a good poem is not quite like the satisfaction of writing a normal story.
I want to write poems. But I find it so hard.
It annoys me.

Annoyance no.2: Here I am sitting in an environment where I am in my element. I love nature. I love animals. I love anything in the environment that has not been marred by anything made by human hands. My dream job would have been to work with animals - to be a zoologist. Or something to do with the environment, so I can be in nature as often as possible.
And yet my dreams are being inhibited by the very people who I think should be supporting me... my parents. Mum and dad grew up in poor families. Their childhoods were not the easiest, coz' from as far back as they could remember they always had to work hard, had little to spend on and had to worry about whether they would get their next meal. As such, I cannot blame them for growing up with the mindset that the most important thing in the world is money. Without money, life was hard. With money, life is easy. And so from a very young age, they were constantly drilling me and my big brother Bernard with advice that we'd better get jobs that would bring in truckloads of money. Be a lawyer like your cousin Paul, they would say. Paul makes so much money, he can drive a nice big BMW! Or be a doctor, like dad's relative in Australia. He earns so much money, he has a swimming pool in his backyard! Or be a plastic surgeon, like the fella who did up mum's eyes. He got a few thousand ringgit from her just for an hour's work! They would say things like that to me all the time, and that's no exaggeration. My dad would constantly talk about money. After so many talks from him about money, I can't even remember the brunt of most that he said, but I believed it mostly went like this, "Youmustearnlotsofmoney, youmustearnlotsofmoney, youmustearnlotsofmoney".
And so it was really no surprise when in my first year of uni, when I told my parents I wanted to give up my time at Monash so I could live out my dream and learn zoology instead, they both flipped. Zoology? How much money will you make doing zoology? You'll never be able to survive on a job like that. Forget it, you silly girl, and get back to your books. You'll get a much better job with your Biotechnology degree... Biotech is an up and coming business in Malaysia now. And make sure you discover some new drug or cure for a disease so you can make lotsa money!
And so I did go back to my books. And I have continued on with my double degree in Biotechnology... and Environmental Management. I could've just done Biotechnology, but the lure of Environmental Management was something I couldn't resist. I like Biotech...coz' I love learning about genetics and microbes and anything to do with biology. But a career in Biotech means a life confined mostly to the laboratory. A life of neverending research, test tubes, white coats, rubber gloves and lab reports. No chance to walk in the forest, hear the birds, touch the soil, and get bitten by giant, noisy mosquitoes. Not exactly very appealing to me. Thank God I got a full Monash scholarship, or else my dad would never have funded an extra year of study so I could get a 'useless' second degree. My second degree will open the doors for me to do what I've wanted to do all along - work in nature - while my first degree has let my parents think I'm all set for a good money-raking job. And my knowledge in Biotech will help a great deal in whatever environmental work I do, as well as increases my chances of employment. And if God blesses me further, I will get my dream job working with animals after all...
But once I get back home, I know I will once again be bombarded with my parents' incessant naggings about finding a good job where I will have a good chance of become a millionaire. I know money is important, I know I need it to survive. But I don't need to drive around in a BMW. I don't need a swimming pool in my backyard. And the thought of cutting up people to supposedly make them look prettier grosses me out and goes against my ethics. As long as I can pay my bills, live in a nice, cozy house, drive around in a reasonably good-looking car that doesn't fall apart every ten seconds, and support my family, then I will be content. And if I can do all that while doing work that I enjoy for the rest of my life, then I will be very happy. I keep telling my parents that, but they think I'm being too idealistic and naive. They believe that money is the only way anyone can enjoy life. But really, if that is true, both of them should be happier now than they were when they were younger coz' they are much better off now than when they were younger. They have a nice place to live, a big screen tv at home, a nice Vios to drive around and they don't have to worry about not having enough to eat anymore. And yet they don't seem thankful or content. They've been constantly bickering at each other for as long as I can remember. And all they want is more. More money, big nice things, more, more, more. It doesn't seem to me that having more money has made them enjoy life much more than before. Who are they to tell me that having loads of money will make me happy?
I truly am thankful for everything my parents have done to provide for me and my brothers. But they have failed to understand that a child doesn't just need financial support and physical provision. A child needs support for their interests, ambitions and dreams. They have hardly ever encouraged me before in the things I was interested before, like playing guitar, or performing, or taekwondo (although in retrospect, my mum did encourage me to learn to play the organ when I was a young un, but that didn't work out too well coz' I couldn't stand the music exams...). And now I know they will continue to discourage me from doing the one thing I know I can do with some passion.
I have a dream. But I have to fight to live it. With my parents, no less... the people who I think should be supporting me.
It annoys me.

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