I first thought of a teacher. I seemed to have really found that being respected my people was a great thing. I liked holding chalk writing on the blackboard. I liked correcting, more appropriate to say ticking, people’s homework. So it made perfect sense to me. I could not wait to tell her these. At first, she responded positively to one. But then she asked me whether I would be going to teach my best subject. I was suddenly awakened. I was good at nothing, frankly. At school, I was never ranked high—with my average marks so low that I ran and hid them the day I received them in an aftershock of embarrassment & shame. I was not fond of any subjects. Perhaps one favorite was the Physical Education, since it was the only one, which did not require any writing. I just moved my body, or just play games. But I refused to be a Physical Education teacher. I still do not know why. Perhaps I did not like it at all. So, I just told her I was kidding about being a teacher. I did not want to tell her the true reason. I wished to terminate our conversation but then she thought of something and gave another speech.
Sometimes, when I thought of my vocation, I tended first to concern the money I would earn. So when I found that a superstar, without having a high credential, but a good face, could earn tremendously. I implied this to her by saying that I admired the superstars’ luxurious lifestyle. She seemed to see through me and after some days, she showed me stories and news about the suicide of celebrities. Once again, I was awakened. I believe the stories are genuine. The recent cover story of a suspended magazine, Eastweek has conveyed how a star was distressed and suffered. I could certainly not be able to handle it, if I were that star. I had tried very hard to persuade her that I really did not mean it. If I had not, she would probably have gone on showing me news like these.
Once, I watched a touching film about the life of a prostitute, who was top at a nightclub. The main protagonist, who gained increasing wealth and wore gorgeous ball-gowns every night, obsessed me. The prostitute even helped a young and handsome client to re-identify his role, leading him to fall in love with her. But she rejected his offer because she did not want to ruin his life by marrying a whore. The romantic plots attracted me a lot. But above all, if I really became one of them, I thought that I could quit and start a new life when I had saved that enormous money. I could do loads of things with that money. I could conceal my past very well so that I could still find a good husband. So these all made perfect sense to me. I tried to tell her these like playful remarks. But it turned out that she looked despising me. I could feel that from her deadpan face and glaring eyes. The feeling of being despised is never good. I shut up and giggled. Then she sternly asked me a simple question, “does the film show you anything about the dark life of the prostitute?” Her words have always been constructive to me. Yes, the film did. I did find the prostitute was forced to drink much alcohol so as to entertain her clients. This had caused her a bad stomachache & vomit a lot. I was so sure I did not want a life like this. That “dream” never came to me. I also learnt to sympathize with these people. It seemed I always overlooked the dark side.
Then one day, I watched news report on endangered species. I did not know why I instantly felt guilty and sorry, I was aware that it has been we human beings exploiting the earth and causing other species to become extinct. Then I began to adore the environmentalists and conservationists. I found that I was willing to strive to save this deteriorating planet. I also started to realize that I was very interested in Geography. In fact, it did not necessarily mean that I could achieve what I was really interested in. I wanted to study Geography at university. Nevertheless, Hong Kong’s examination system had made it difficult to me. I did not get high grade in the public examination. I still believe I recited and crammed all the Geography notes, just lacked doing much exercises. I was to forget the goal of saving our Earth. I did tell her all these shyly. She consoled me that I could make it on the other way. She suggested that I save the energy by reducing to use paper and recycling, do some donation, help promote conservation…She started her speech again. But I just took all her words at my heart. One more thing I have been wondering. How come she could see things so thoroughly? I can never grow up like her. Perhaps her great intellectual ability was built by her ordeal.
I have known after meeting her many years that she was born in a middle class family. In fact she seldom mentioned her past. She had gotten a frightening loss. Her father died of an accident. I still do not know exactly what kind of accident because she just got agitated when the first time I asked her and the second time I insisted an answer. I know I was so wrong and insensitive to pick up someone’s mournful memory, especially the one who is my best and crucial friend in my life. I determine to hide my curiosity. I just wait for her to speak that spontaneously. Years and years I got pieces of her story. Her father died when she was younger then ten, leaving a house of females. None of her family members had the working ability. Her grandma was too old, her mother had been jobless and ill, and her elder sister was too young. The family plunged into great financial problems. Fortunately, her father used to be charitable. That might be why there were so many relatives trying to help them.But she still grew stronger, more independent. She told me indeed she would never want receive any assistance. She would like to be the one who only offered as much help as she could, like her father. So she dreamed to be a doctor. All her life she only got this goal. I believe she is able to realize it. She went to study abroad after finishing high school. She is now attending at the University of Oxford.
I have been jealous of her. How come she can be so adamantine to her life goal? How come she can be so mellow? How come I could never be like some part of her?
She wrote a long letter to me right after she went to Britain. She was giving another long speech again. The letter, on the one hand, embarrassed me, but the other hand, soothed me. She had known that I had been “admiring” her (I know she avoided “jealous”). But she thought she was not so admirable at all. She felt that she had always wanted to do everything, but she was not as talented as she would have liked to be. No one is omnipotent. She said it was okay if I still had no idea of where I was headed after graduation and in the next few years. But I was so easily influenced by the media since I was not sensible enough. So the first thing I had to learn was to follow my heart. She believed eventually I would get to wherever it was I was going. I felt like tearing.
I do a bit of soul searching. I start to think what exactly I am passionate about. I discover that is something I have never really thought seriously about. When I consider what brings me joy, and the things I am sure to be doing in my spare time and on breaks, something starts to click with me. Many summers and even during my academic years, I have read hundreds of books. Whenever I am idle, I cannot put them down. I blame Harry Potter personally. I have loved reading and writing, but I have never thought of this as more than a side thing I do—my private escape. In fact, these are things that make me feel delighted. The moment I realized this, everything changed. Realizing and knowing what you have been passionate about is an amusing feeling. I do feel this great sense of relief now. I shall not be lost. I mean I still really do not have it figured out. But I do have a start. Maybe I shall become a novelist. Maybe I shall be a big edition for a local press. Maybe I shall start my own geographic journal. Or maybe I shall still be a real environmentalist. Who knows?
What I do know is that I have thrown all my plans out the window, and that is very fine. At this minute, writing this kind of autobiography, I do feel like stepping to the life of a novelist.
