I know that I am not cut out for this; maybe I am, but maybe I’m just trying.
To tell you the truth, the truth scares me.
For when you reach that point in your life where you’re supposed to be moving up that corporate ladder, or getting that promotion, sometimes, it feels as if you’re not meant to be wherever you are.
I am in that same situation right now.
I am comfortable with my “on-call” job as a concept developer for films.
I enjoy the free time I have and the pay is not so bad too.
But in between those days wherein “day-offs are enjoyable” and “I love working”, come those days wherein I can’t help but ask myself the question: “Is this what I really want?”
Obviously, it’s not.
I know that I may appear a little too ungrateful for the long Christmas vacations and the opportunities to live on forever through the films we create, but this life, this world, everything just doesn’t suit my palette.
Okay, maybe I am being a little too picky. People would die to take my spot.
But that’s exactly my point.
People would die to take this job away from me and I feel nonchalance creeping over my skin; sarcasm filling my brain.
I want something that would make me want to die for it.
And maybe I know exactly what I want, but I just can’t put a name to it.
I want the world. I want the international community. I want culture. I want art. I want travel. I want to be a part of something that aims to make the world a better place for everyone else.
I want to work for UN, or UNDP, or ASEF, or EU. I want to make a difference.
But you see, that’s the biggest dilemma.
I feel like my limbs are too short and my brain’s too ditzy for it. (Or at least that’s how their job requirements put it).
I am lacking and I am a little too young.My country’s alright, but it’s not that underdeveloped that I could pass for a repressed idealist, it’s also not that well-off that I could immediately be a professional.
I am stuck in a limbo.
I can make wonders when I am inspired but I guess I am not cut out for the “international league”.
So I guess I might as well start writing the next script for the next mainstream film that shall fall under my wing.
Apparently, I am not fit enough to help the world. I am not smart enough to render my service to the fields of culture and arts. I am not western enough to pioneer the next event that would bring the cultures together.
I am not enough. I get that a lot from this complicated world.
The problem is, I know that I am enough and that I am capable of making a difference.
I am one of those rare few who actually enjoy getting to know the world at its cultures and disasters and its languages.
But I guess, that’s not a requirement.
I would die to make a difference but the world tells me relentlessly “what difference would that make?”