“Shouldn’t it be a pandemic? “ A asks to B. As a recent
graduate A has taken a dip into the pool of reality, where she slowly realizes
that the world is not as it seems and problems do not end with peace.
“The amount of people who hate their jobs is staggering!” A
screams, hoping that B would show a pulse. Others in the plaza stare at this
tiny figure, praying that A would stop her rants and take a breath, praying for
some peace before the workday begins. Minutes pass by. The work hour nears,
causing those who once stared to evacuate the area for the comfort of their
tight cubicles.
“What if I don’t want to work at all?” A sinks down to a
squat next to B.
“Would
that be selfish? Would that be indulgent?”
B stands up and grabs a bag full of paper. A veteran, B once
had the same speeding thoughts A currently has. Yet, with every minute spent in the
office, hanging out in the janitor’s closet, visiting the factories, and
keeping quiet in the boardroom, B’s mind is reprogrammed. Now, nearing
retirement, B wonders if the past thirty years has been worth the wait.
Fortunately, B’s partner stayed, unlike others who fled as the papers piled in.
As long as a job was available, B would work until B is forced to retire or
dies. The latter, of course, would fit the conventional view of dignity. It
would spare B from thinking “What if?” from managing all his newfound free
time. It would provide him with the dramatic exit from this world. It would make
him a selfless human being that contributed to the family, the corporation and
the country. In retrospect, isn’t that indulgent in itself?
Looking
down at A who continues to sulk under the shadow of their office tower, B asks,
“What is selfishness? What is it to be selfless?” before pausing, “Define that
and maybe, just maybe, you’d cure yourself of this pandemic.”
Frustrated and Stuck |
A ruminates, slowly trailing behind B. They walk to their
respective spaces and begin their respective routines. The day drags on as A
tries to hack the computer system to conduct research for non-work related
projects. At the end of the day, A walks past B’s office. No one’s there,
except for the chair that B has sat on for the past thirty years. B
talked about that chair a lot, spoke about how it was the only consistent
variable since joining the company. A imagines the years that were to come and
the constants that would hold on to time. A despises the idea of holding on, of
persistently persevering, of constantly thinking up excuses not to leave this
job and cure the self.
Why did I acquire a tertiary
education, especially in a world where its worth is constantly questioned and
criticized? Perhaps it comes with the territory of being Asian or being part of
an education-driven family. Perhaps it just comes with the convention of being a high
school graduate in her late teens. Many would say that a tertiary education is
imperative to find work. In the past, a tertiary education only involved a
respectable job. Nowadays, due to the ever increasing number of graduates and
the lack of demand, a plain old job can be hard to come by.
For the past three years, I have had
the privilege to attend a liberal arts education for seemingly simple reasons,
reasons that may not be lucrative at first glance. I acquired a rather peculiar
tertiary education to learn reading, writing, listening, and speaking. All of
these objectives became the foundation of other educational pursuits, including
those in global health, theatre, and neuroscience.
Unlike the nature of a distinct bull’s eye, these four
targets overlapped and interacted with one another. Unlike most educational
endeavours in high school, these goals permeated beyond the classroom and
library. They morphed into the very philosophies of life. Whenever I rode the
subway I would shift my focus from the loud music coming from someone’s ear
buds to how that very sound influenced or did not influence everyone else in
the car. Slowly, I fell in love with the synergy between all of the senses. How
we listen impacts how we speak, write and read. How we speak will influence
other people around us, as well. Same goes for writing and reading.
I entered Sarah Lawrence with some
level of writing, reading, speaking, and listening in both Bahasa Indonesia and
English. With each classroom discussion, conference paper, conference meeting
with professors, and out of class experiences, these abilities were heightened
or reduced accordingly. In addition to enhancing and tweaking each skill, I
learned how to apply them into my education, profession and daily life.
Additionally, I began to manage them based on the situation. By the end of the
first semester I strove to integrate the capabilities into my native language.
The changes that had to be made were noted and dealt with.
So why did I have to learn or even
relearn all these things, despite a certain level of abilities acquired prior
to university? To acquire a job was not a convincing argument. I needed the
results to be versatile, in case of future personal and worldly changes. This
might be a personal trait or a part of my paranoia, but I have always required
additional motivation to conduct any work or choose certain routes. For
instance, in high school I began studying child psychology in my free time to
1) see if the topic would be a suitable college major, 2) gain more knowledge
in the field, and 3) satisfy my interest. Although I did not end up majoring in
child psychology, I gained knowledge that may be of use later in life, say when
I have a child or start having nephews and nieces.
The pursuit to deepened my ability to
write, read, listen, and speak were seen as pathways to more specific
endeavours, such as research, presentation, and analysis. The abilities were
also useful in the arts and writing, be it in theatre, film, photography,
journalism, or scientific writing. More importantly, they allowed me to realize
and slowly understand humanity on a personal level and beyond.
Maybe I should just retire to the kitchen! |
A few weeks ago, I began interning at a
bank, hoping to learn management, business, and finance, which have become
foreign subjects to me ever since I entered college. Despite all the mentoring
that the HR department provided and the time invested by my supervisors to
guide me through the process, I still find it hard to wrap my head around the
practice of banking and trading, leaving me exhausted and frustrated. This
might be a byproduct of a liberal arts education, where faculty members and
students shared problems with absolute capitalism.
To stand by your ideals whilst staying
afloat in a volatile economy is easier said than done. More often than not,
privilege is required. Unfortunately, selling out is frequently required to
reach such a position of privilege, whether it is to invest in a capitalistic
corporation or to sacrifice one’s mental and physical health for certain
opportunities. Acquiring certain traits may be needed to fit into a particular
social group or class.
In darker moments I wish I had not
learned such modes of thinking. I start to wonder if I would be better off
learning technical skills specific to certain professions. I question the very
goals that I had set up a mere four years ago when I applied to university.
Would I be far more comfortable to work in a bank, consulting firm, or a
trading company if I had gone to a big name school and learned business?
However, it seems that the golden
window of opportunity has passed. I have stepped into my twenties and my mind
has become decreasingly malleable. Instead, it has hardened and sharpened to
continue striving towards the four, seemingly basic goals I had selected. And I
am left to wonder if I will end up living in the shanties with a pile of
canvasses and filled out notebooks. Or if I should overcome the giant gap
between capitalism and I in order to afford living in a nice urban pad with the
latest advancements and an ever beeping device that prevents me from living a
life that my seventeen year old self had envisioned.
P.S. Typing this entire article out took
time and meditation. Half the month of June has passed and I have yet to
publish a single article on KisahJika.com, which I had generated to share ideas
and interact with the person behind yet another screen. A newly acquired friend
said that some artists need pain, but I don’t. Although, I may not be an artist
and I may not need pain, pain has lead me here to a rather empty blog and a
rather long article in a month or so. It has lead me to frustration and
although I have not returned to my “normal state”, I am much calmer. I
apologize for the delay. Hopefully, KisahJika.com will reach baseline soon.
*All the images were provided by the author
*All the images were provided by the author
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