If you want to know the truth.
I'm damn pissed. I bought a rewritable CD from the Co-op with the sole purpose of burning David songs into it to listen in the car when I drive, but I came home and eagerly embarked on the burning process, just to find out that it's not compatible with my laptop's hard-drive. That in itself wasn't a problem, since I have three other computers at home and an external CD/DVD burner. But I tried my mom's computer, my dad's laptop, and the external burner - none of them worked. Ohmygod so pissed off I want to murder something arghhh. I think I'm just not meant to listen to David whilst driving; I might be so distracted by his lovely voice and lovely tunes that I might end up getting into a car accident or something.
But still.
Okay, I promise there is a point to this entry. Such trivial matters are usually reserved for the main blog; otherwise I would have nothing to write about. But before I get to what I want to say, can I just say really quickly that it's torture for me to wait until 10 p.m. to watch American Idol when there's ample info online about David's performance which I can't read because I don't want to be spoiled? I'm absolutely dying here. Let me rephrase that - I'm absolutely dying here, total pain and agony. I would catch the Star World telecast at 8 but I actually want to get things done before I start swooning all over my husband. Otherwise I'd come online at 10 after the show and YouTube his performance over and over all the way until 12 and that is entirely inefficient by any reasonable standards. Let's see how long I go before I click on his Facebook group and read the wall posts, like what I did last week.
Okay, anyway.
This is kind of a spin-off from my whole David Cook obsession thing. Because I was just thinking the other day: If I dated a musician, I'd probably ask him to get a real job. Let me rephrase: If I dated a full-time musician who does some part-time job at the side to make ends meet, I'd probably ask him to get a real job sooner or later.
I vaguely recall a period of time long ago when I was still young, impressionable, naive and 14 when I was totally into musicians. Guys that played in bands, guys that look hot holding a guitar, guys that have the rock star swagger and the cool and the voice. I even went through a brief tattoo/piercings/punk phase but that's rather embarrassing so let's just leave it at that.
All of that has changed. When I hear about people - guys, of course - playing in bands, it doesn't impress me. It doesn't generate much of a reaction, except maybe a very cynical, "Er, what's the point?" in my head. When such people go on and on about their passion for music and how they love jammin', I can't help but think: What's the point? And if all they play is covers: What's the point if you can only play covers?
But the real question is: What's the point if you're never going to get anywhere with this music thing? Like, why bother spending so much time having practice sessions and whatever else if one day you're still gonna have to wake up, face reality, and get a 9-to-5 job? Even worse, being a full-time musician, and working odd jobs at the side to make ends meet - what's the point of doing the latter, if the former isn't going to get you anywhere? Wouldn't it be better to just stare reality in the face and own up to your destiny and get a regular job?
So I was having this entire discourse in my head, and it alarmed me to note how pragmatic an outlook I seem to have already adopted. And honestly? I don't even know when this happened. Is this an inevitable conclusion of my soon-to-be professional degree, of the fact that, assuming all goes well, I'm going to be a lawyer in two years' time? Have I subconsciously abandoned youthful ideals of chasing your ambitions, believing in your dreams and in yourself, following your heart, your passion? Because if you want to think about it this way, it looks like I have. Embracing law school, admitting to the fact that I'm going to end up practising law, all these are not at the expense of nothing. They don't come free. There was an opportunity cost involved, and that cost is what I've always wanted (or thought I've always wanted) to do: to write.
Of course, people will tell me that I can always do both. I admire professionals who have their own bands and you know, produce CDs and whatever, people who somehow manage to find that elusive balance between what they have to do and what they want to do. And yes, I suppose I can still write, and that entering the legal profession isn't an automatic death knoll on the whole writer thing.
But on the flip side, it's also a matter of priorisiting. I used to get very offended when my mom called my writing a "hobby". It was, and still is, more than a hobby - it's a passion, and it's a defining one. It is who I am. You take that away, and I'm not the same person anymore. Calling it a hobby belittles everything that writing does for me, and is to me. If a person is a full-time lawyer and a part-time writer, what does that say about her priorities? Is it really true that she can't help but not join the rat race?
I think I've grown really cynical and realistic over the past one year. If I dated David Cook and the American Idol thing doesn't translate into a record deal for him, I'd tell him to stop bartendering, stop being so hung up on his music, and just get a real freaking job. He said in an interview that he was afraid of being stuck in a 9-to-5 job that he hated. He also said that his "toughest obstacle" in life was "[b]eing confident enough in myself to chase this whole music thing."
Sometimes I still can't help but feel that owning up to being in law school and to being a lawyer post-graduation and post-bar admission is taking the easy way out. Because I think the truth of the matter is, when all has been said and done, I'm not courageous enough to throw away the S$4500/month starting salary to chase the writing thing. Does it expose a lack of confidence in myself? I think it does. I'm not confident in, first, my geographical location to ever give me a good deal, or the break that I need; and second, in my writing abilities to ever elevate me to a position where I can live as comfortably as I would as a lawyer. And the truth of the matter is, I'm not brave enough to lower my standard of living and work low-end jobs like waitressing and sales and whatever just to pursue what is really and honestly an elusive ambition. I love writing, but it doesn't mean that I'm any good at it, and more importantly, it doesn't mean that it can buy me the Peugeot 307cc that I've coveted since forever. Is a car more important than my happiness/passion? Well, I will be happy driving the car that I've been passionate about since forever.
All this makes me quite sad, considering I spent most of my teenage years trying to avoid being like everyone else. Wanting to get out of this country, to pursue this writing thing, believing - stupidly? - that nothing matters but the writing, and doing what I love. I can't say that I hate the law, but I can't say I love it either. But I can say without any hesitation that I love writing, and it's the only thing I've ever truly, truly loved. And yet, I can't do the starving writer thing. I'm too materialistic, too comfortable in my comfort zone, too afraid to break out.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually in a stupor, and that one day something's gonna snap and I'm gonna see my life for the farce that it is. It is a farce, though, isn't it? Considering the journey I took to get here, and what I'm still choosing despite everything. I admire David, then, and I suppose others like him (though it depends on who you're talking about), for doing what I can't do because I'm too afraid of failure and discomfort and hard work. Especially hard work. Isn't it so much easier to submit to the $4500 and say, "Fuck everything else"? I think it is. Because I want a cosy apartment near town, I want my Peugeot, I want to be able to walk into a high-end fashion boutique and not feel like a phony. I want my monthly fat pay check, even if it's at the expense of what I love, because it is easier this way. It is so much easier this way.
Haven't I always been taking the easy way out?
But still.
Okay, I promise there is a point to this entry. Such trivial matters are usually reserved for the main blog; otherwise I would have nothing to write about. But before I get to what I want to say, can I just say really quickly that it's torture for me to wait until 10 p.m. to watch American Idol when there's ample info online about David's performance which I can't read because I don't want to be spoiled? I'm absolutely dying here. Let me rephrase that - I'm absolutely dying here, total pain and agony. I would catch the Star World telecast at 8 but I actually want to get things done before I start swooning all over my husband. Otherwise I'd come online at 10 after the show and YouTube his performance over and over all the way until 12 and that is entirely inefficient by any reasonable standards. Let's see how long I go before I click on his Facebook group and read the wall posts, like what I did last week.
Okay, anyway.
This is kind of a spin-off from my whole David Cook obsession thing. Because I was just thinking the other day: If I dated a musician, I'd probably ask him to get a real job. Let me rephrase: If I dated a full-time musician who does some part-time job at the side to make ends meet, I'd probably ask him to get a real job sooner or later.
I vaguely recall a period of time long ago when I was still young, impressionable, naive and 14 when I was totally into musicians. Guys that played in bands, guys that look hot holding a guitar, guys that have the rock star swagger and the cool and the voice. I even went through a brief tattoo/piercings/punk phase but that's rather embarrassing so let's just leave it at that.
All of that has changed. When I hear about people - guys, of course - playing in bands, it doesn't impress me. It doesn't generate much of a reaction, except maybe a very cynical, "Er, what's the point?" in my head. When such people go on and on about their passion for music and how they love jammin', I can't help but think: What's the point? And if all they play is covers: What's the point if you can only play covers?
But the real question is: What's the point if you're never going to get anywhere with this music thing? Like, why bother spending so much time having practice sessions and whatever else if one day you're still gonna have to wake up, face reality, and get a 9-to-5 job? Even worse, being a full-time musician, and working odd jobs at the side to make ends meet - what's the point of doing the latter, if the former isn't going to get you anywhere? Wouldn't it be better to just stare reality in the face and own up to your destiny and get a regular job?
So I was having this entire discourse in my head, and it alarmed me to note how pragmatic an outlook I seem to have already adopted. And honestly? I don't even know when this happened. Is this an inevitable conclusion of my soon-to-be professional degree, of the fact that, assuming all goes well, I'm going to be a lawyer in two years' time? Have I subconsciously abandoned youthful ideals of chasing your ambitions, believing in your dreams and in yourself, following your heart, your passion? Because if you want to think about it this way, it looks like I have. Embracing law school, admitting to the fact that I'm going to end up practising law, all these are not at the expense of nothing. They don't come free. There was an opportunity cost involved, and that cost is what I've always wanted (or thought I've always wanted) to do: to write.
Of course, people will tell me that I can always do both. I admire professionals who have their own bands and you know, produce CDs and whatever, people who somehow manage to find that elusive balance between what they have to do and what they want to do. And yes, I suppose I can still write, and that entering the legal profession isn't an automatic death knoll on the whole writer thing.
But on the flip side, it's also a matter of priorisiting. I used to get very offended when my mom called my writing a "hobby". It was, and still is, more than a hobby - it's a passion, and it's a defining one. It is who I am. You take that away, and I'm not the same person anymore. Calling it a hobby belittles everything that writing does for me, and is to me. If a person is a full-time lawyer and a part-time writer, what does that say about her priorities? Is it really true that she can't help but not join the rat race?
I think I've grown really cynical and realistic over the past one year. If I dated David Cook and the American Idol thing doesn't translate into a record deal for him, I'd tell him to stop bartendering, stop being so hung up on his music, and just get a real freaking job. He said in an interview that he was afraid of being stuck in a 9-to-5 job that he hated. He also said that his "toughest obstacle" in life was "[b]eing confident enough in myself to chase this whole music thing."
Sometimes I still can't help but feel that owning up to being in law school and to being a lawyer post-graduation and post-bar admission is taking the easy way out. Because I think the truth of the matter is, when all has been said and done, I'm not courageous enough to throw away the S$4500/month starting salary to chase the writing thing. Does it expose a lack of confidence in myself? I think it does. I'm not confident in, first, my geographical location to ever give me a good deal, or the break that I need; and second, in my writing abilities to ever elevate me to a position where I can live as comfortably as I would as a lawyer. And the truth of the matter is, I'm not brave enough to lower my standard of living and work low-end jobs like waitressing and sales and whatever just to pursue what is really and honestly an elusive ambition. I love writing, but it doesn't mean that I'm any good at it, and more importantly, it doesn't mean that it can buy me the Peugeot 307cc that I've coveted since forever. Is a car more important than my happiness/passion? Well, I will be happy driving the car that I've been passionate about since forever.
All this makes me quite sad, considering I spent most of my teenage years trying to avoid being like everyone else. Wanting to get out of this country, to pursue this writing thing, believing - stupidly? - that nothing matters but the writing, and doing what I love. I can't say that I hate the law, but I can't say I love it either. But I can say without any hesitation that I love writing, and it's the only thing I've ever truly, truly loved. And yet, I can't do the starving writer thing. I'm too materialistic, too comfortable in my comfort zone, too afraid to break out.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually in a stupor, and that one day something's gonna snap and I'm gonna see my life for the farce that it is. It is a farce, though, isn't it? Considering the journey I took to get here, and what I'm still choosing despite everything. I admire David, then, and I suppose others like him (though it depends on who you're talking about), for doing what I can't do because I'm too afraid of failure and discomfort and hard work. Especially hard work. Isn't it so much easier to submit to the $4500 and say, "Fuck everything else"? I think it is. Because I want a cosy apartment near town, I want my Peugeot, I want to be able to walk into a high-end fashion boutique and not feel like a phony. I want my monthly fat pay check, even if it's at the expense of what I love, because it is easier this way. It is so much easier this way.
Haven't I always been taking the easy way out?