Scholars Anonymous

Scholars desperately seeking: Reaching out for the light

Today was a crummy day, one of those grossly pitiable low self-esteem days that had me groveling and hating myself.

Nothing terrible happened, hence the trauma.

It’s that kind of Mediocre Day in which the whole Mediocrity of it really bites, and hurts.

I feel I’m an underachiever at my age. And that sucks big time.

Given my nature, education, passion and talent, I’ve let myself down - thud, thud thud.

Nasty surprises have been repeatedly sprung on me by the organization that has promised me a fulfilling and meaningful career so many years ago.

My life is not supposed to turn out so, mediocre, so.

I’m not supposed to be this bitter. I used to be only cynical, damn it!

My pay is low (oh man, way below the market rate as compared to even non-scholars), my work is thankless, and while I do enjoy my job, just trying to see a long-term future in it gives me a blinding headache. I can’t be making this kind of money for what I’m doing.

I asked April why it is so difficult to be happy in one’s job. Between both of us, we certainly don’t skive, for one thing. And we want to be responsible for the biggies, which we can handle well and to be decently compensated for our pains, if the tasks are truly quite unsavoury. We do want to do good and be great, so why’s everything in the bloody way!

Maybe I should take heart in Jarvis’ declaration. Today marks his second day at work in Maxtor as R & D engineer only and already his battle cry: I will remember my dream is not to make hard disk. And work long hours for low pay.

Yes, fuck the companies who are out to impoverish the young people and slowly choke the life outta what’s left of the dream and the dreaming.

Today also happens to be Ah Hoon’s birthday, another close friend whom I’ve known for 13 years. Ah Hoon herself was an unhappy scholar malcontent at a statutory board. Thankfully, her bond was only 2 years and as of July this year, she started work/training to be a banker (when she used to be a bloody engineer) at Citibank and can boast of flying around the world very soon. She earns, I believe, at least twice as much as me now. I’m happy for my friend but my happiness at her good fortune, which she absolutely deserves, does not preclude my bitterness at my own predicament.

I don’t think the organization takes care of its scholars. So I must look after myself and bloody learn to fight for my rights and entitlements.

I believe most bond-breakers have a gall-wrenching tale. All scholars have sick stories to share, unless you are a PSC scholar. If it’s the latter, then I’m sorry, but you’d receive no sympathy from me. Why? Because I have seen for myself how generic PSC scholars are pampered with the bizarre luxuries that should be peculiar to a specialized field ie mine, and yet even my scholar peers are not privy to such fanfare treatments. Instead, only PSC scholars get to enjoy the overseas exchange of which we can appreciate more in the light of our job scope. Taxpayers’ money – have we run out of ways to spend thee?

All I want is money, respect, some decent attempts to address and do good by the senior management and publish my own book/novel. The last one pretty much supersedes everything.

Incidentally, I have come to the end of a 2 year cycle last week. So starting this month, it’s the beginning of another same cycle, hopefully very different. Any more different, and I’ll have to cough up the difference in cold, cold cash.

I hate Mediocrity.

In response to dear Ruth, bless her little heart, it’s nothing to do with the Rawa trip that I’m feeling this bad.

But I’ll get over it. I have to.

And. I. Am. So. Not. Mediocre.

Addendum: To augment the misery that's my life, I read about a casual friend from uni philo classes in Life! today. Kiat Sing beat 500 applicants around the world to be the only international student accepted into Columbia University's Master of Fine Arts (Acting) programme. And to top it off, the Media Development Authority (MDA) is giving her a $100,000 scholarship to pay her $121,000 fees. I'm happy for you, Kiat but excuse me while I bang my head on the wall and have a private cry in that corner over there.

(She deserves it, and one day, I will have good things happening for me too.)

Later in the evening during work, I realised with a jolt someone I knew briefly from my current job was now in the very same writer position I had been unfairly denied and bizarrely mocked (when it was the HR who called me to go for interview) when I turned up. I have seen her in person and read her writings. Let's just say I am easily on par. So. Fuck.