The Singaporean experience

I had an interesting night tonight. It was the last session of five days of class in Singapore, and my last night in the city. The last couple of days have been a bit hectic in terms of trying to see as much of the city as I can while trying to get my assignment done on top of going to class. We had a group presentation tonight, which was not exactly stressful but still, it was a presentation, and I haven't done that for 2-3 years. At some point, I was trying very hard not to laugh because out of the 20 or so people were speaking, I was among the 3 who speaks proper English. The rest of them, no offence, spoke Singlish, Malay English or Indian English, and I really wasn't used to hearing them. I am not making fun of them but it was interesting, and almost comical because it's so foreign in a class situation.

As the night progressed, the few of us students ended up in a bar with our lecturer and other lecturers/ counsellors. Hanging out with a bunch of Aussies inevitably means the question of "when are you coming back?" popped up. I gave an honest answer filled with uncertainties and a jaded sense of hope. What really got to me is that she said "You have a purpose. I won't tell you what it is." And he said: "Come to Melbourne" so that I can meet our Mongolian colleague. Apart from friends I made in Mongolia, I only know one or two people who have stepped foot in that country, and he just has to be a trainer for the organisation I worked for!

She spoke of social justice, and listed out my options and choices, along with the 3-passport situation. In a weird way, I pick up all the skills that they are using when they speak because they taught me those skills. This leads to the question of authenticity. Can you merely master the skills and come across as being 100 percent genuine if it is just a matter of skills, which encompasses everything from the choices of words to facial expression and body language? Being a cynic about everything, I have some reservations. But one thing I can't deny is the sense of hope and encouragement that they give.

From what she told me about her background, it is particularly real because the confusion that she went through with her career choices, the title attached to her name, which, in a competitive profession, can be given unrealistic weight.

These people are somewhere between strangers and mentors. Whether it's their skills, experience, or the fact that they are drawn into this profession because of compassion or social justice, it doesn't really matter. Sometimes, we just need someone like them to point us in the right direction. It's all about soul searching.

HK suffocates me. The collectivist culture. Money and status. Feeling controlled, in disguise of concern.
I remember why I left one place after the other, for different reasons. Now I see another reason to leave, but it doesn't do my career any good if I just pick up and go. In a perfect world, I would be somewhere I want to be, and doing something I want to do.

This maladjustment is ridiculous, but it has been so real for the past year. At times, when I have something going for me, it didn't feel so bad. But most of the times, even pursuing something that I am interested in is such a drag.
What is more ridiculous is the issue of parental control, or concern, or hope. I'm way too old to be rebelling, but the moment I moved back under their roof, there is the pressure of having to please them. I refuse to budge and it gets on my nerves when they ask me what I'm doing and where I am. I like living alone and I don't like to have to report to anyone about my whereabouts. Yes they want the best for me, and most of the time they just let it be.

No one seems to understand how this move has been affecting me. People only move back because of their family, or because of the advantage of low taxation or because they are part of the elite, who live very comfortably in this city of extreme wealth gap. None of these concerns me, and I don't know why I am here.