I was having a chat over the table with my cousins, since it was CNY and we were all broke from gambling.
One of my cousins was reading a research paper about solar cells, possibly the most dry and boring subject you could imagine. But when I enquired about what he was reading, he proceeded to describe the research to me, making every single detail come alive.
Just by listening to him, I learnt how to interpret chemical formulas, the state of solar cell research over the last 40 years, and the current state of research. He actually made science interesting to me, when I had given up on it 6 years ago, deeming myself unsuitable for science.
And the day before that, my electrician uncle was showing me a newfangled device he was working on. He had wired up his house so that with just one remote he could control two tvs, the dvd player and on top of that he had found some way to boost the strength of the internet signal in his house. It was like seriously, the unsexy version of Harry Potter. Magical, but utterly unsexy.
It was then that I realised that perhaps I was never really uninterested in science, it was just that my teachers didn't manage to make it come alive for me. And several years down the road, I find myself a writer, something people tell me I have a talent for. I do not dispute that perhaps I have a better grasp of the written word than the average person, because from what I gleam from STOMP, dey write lyk dis.
However, these two people in my life, they showed me the difference between being good at something, and truly enjoying what you do. Personally, I find that it's not difficult to become good at something if you apply yourself diligently to it.
It's like maths, you can hate the subject, but if you do enough TYS-es, you'll score that A. I failed maths all through JC, so much that my teacher had given up hope on me. She predicted an A for the whole class except me. I got an A anyway, so I shall say it now.
Thank you for not believing in me. It gave me that urge to shove it back up your backside.
It is that extra love for whatever you do that takes you beyond good. You stretch yourself to become better at it because not doing so is harder to do. And over a period of time, it shows.
In the newsroom, there are reporters who have been there for years. They are the most jaded old farts you can imagine, because they have seen it all. When I asked them whether a 3 car pile up on the expressway was a story, all they asked was "Did anyone die? No one? Cheh. Why you tell me, waste my time." Their utter lack of concern for the welfare of fellow human beings was actually refreshing, if not a little disturbing.
But they are the very same people who come in early and leave late. And in a newsroom, you really survive on passion, because the job takes a toll on your physical and mental well being. It is stressful, crazy and utterly unpredictable. And the pay sucks like shit, for the number of hours that you work. But one thing I have noticed is, these senior reporters never ever complain about work.
In my case though, it's just that much harder. Just because I am an intern, SPH pays me peanuts. They claim it is because they are giving us work experience. I honestly think that is bullshit. If I had joined before university, I would have earned $1000. Now, I earn just $600.
My mom used to tell me when I was younger that I had to study in uni, so I would get a better paying job. Oh Mommy, why did you lie to me? Was it because you knew I could not handle the truth?
At this point, I still have no idea if this is something I want to do for life. But I hope that someday, I will find a job I love, because after that day, I no longer work.