just minishorts.

I've just begun to get used to the idea that I won't be sitting at an official office desk doing work for a fixed salary, this time next week. There?s an option for people like me, 'freelancing', and no, uh, it?s not exactly something exciting to look forward to. But that's going to be the main source of income for me for quite sometime, until I do find the time and motivation to want to work for an organization again.

Around this time a month ago I finally found the strength to do what I've always said I'll do one day. Previously I had been talking to many people who're more experienced, and some have mentioned that one and a half years in a first job is more than sufficient, and that 'it's time to go'.

I love editing to bits and it's something that I knew I'd always wanted to do. Look, I'm not exactly an expert in the language, nor do I read enough or know enough about linguistics theory, or language acquisition applications, or English grammar, to be able to do a good job?my ex-director told me herself that my English is terrible for an English editor. But it was 'that passion that sparkled everytime you talk about a book that made me want to take you into the company', and this were the very words that kept me abreast in times of dire straits.

It's just, there have been too many occasions of 'dire straits' whilst trying to earn a living doing a job that I've always dreamt of doing.

When I first joined the working society, I was chirpy and on sugar-high almost every day. I would wake up very early, scoot off to the office at 7.15 daily (work would start about an hour later) and worked on scripts all day. Doing overtime without claims did not use to be a problem to me, I was always happy to do what I can. And I used to hate Fridays, because it meant I would be going home to a normal life all over again… This was the kind of employee I was. Young, impressionable, and yes, maybe overly enthusiastic?the very same type that paves the yellow brick road to Burn-out-opia.

Oh, but I loved the job. I really did.

Slowly, things changed. The workload became quite unbearable, and while I was still obliging, I slowly began to lose my motivation as I realized that I wasn't performing all that well anymore. At the same time, I saw an entire team of colleague leaving the company, and I took on jobs that were handed down… In the midst of all this, I strived to make the ends connect, but mistakes were unavoidable, and leftovers don't always taste good. Management was not sympathetic, and always, I was coaxed to explain the situation of things (most of which I did not know the head or tail of reason to). After a while, I learnt the art of 'hypocrisy', and realized it could get me places and help me get things easier… but it sure sucked like mad everytime I had to opt for this technique to get things done.

It didn't help that I felt fear everytime I heard the slow beating footsteps of my new boss everytime she strutted down the corridor, and when a feeling of being non-competent sets in, you slowly lose your drive. One thing leads to another, and suddenly, I would be staring at the clock, willing the hour hand to turn faster so that it would strike 5, and then I would be gladly ridden off this torturous cycle. The work had become a chore I dreaded to pieces.

At the end of last year, I had a long talk with my former boss, who now works from home at her own comfortable pace. I told her my concerns, and expressed the agony that was beginning to build up in me. And then I told her, 'It's true. I really feel like throwing in the towel.'

'You still like editing, don't you?'
'Of course. It's the very spirit of me and it's who I am. The job that I've always wanted to have. And it tears me apart to know that I'm beginning to hate it.'
'Passion is always a good thing. Something that kills the passion is not a good thing. Don't stay until your passion dies.'

That was a few months ago. When finally, the end of January struck me, I decided that I'd enough, and I was going to force-quit my position, at the risk of losing a valuable source of income. It's an idealistic move, one that's yes, very stupid?I might not ever get a job in the same line again, and might be driven to take up some executive desk position from the point of nil-experience, with a pay-cut. I might not even be able to work in publishing ever again!

But I'm willing to do it, just so that my passion for the written word, and the publishing arena, stays intact. Even if, at this point in time, the scripts that lay on my table are stagnant and not-improving, I'm taking the ostracizations that will arrive with my impending departure from the company in stride. It's not that I don't give a damn. It's more of a concern that I might reach a point of I-don't-give-a-fucking-damn sometime in a future if I continue in this system.

And so, I bid farewell to the system and look forward to welcoming the return of my passion.

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