The best "fit"

There are times that when we sit idly and think about everything and nothing in particular, we wonder what it is that we need for our lives to be more complete. The phrase "more complete" itself sounds like an oxymoron but if a complete life is theoretically out of reach, it does comfort us a bit that at least we are approaching the asymptote.

Recently I borrowed a book written by Vicki robin: Your Money or Your Life. It is not just another one of those self-help books or finance-management 101s. It is a mindset changing recipe. While I barely started to read its full message, merely reading its book reviews makes me awed at how much the book has changed so many people's lives. Successful people.

When I was young, I used to think money is kind of an integral element of being successful. I need to study algebra and language hard to get into a good middle school, get into the top few percentiles in my level in middle school to get into the finest high school--in flying colours, and getting that opportunity to be amongst the most privileged few to be through-trained to the most prestigious local universities. This was the route that I had in mind when I motivate myself to go for that extra mile, to feel indefatigable all the time, to ride my bike in starlit morning to school at six thirty and to finish my lunch at school canteen in five minutes, followed by a nap of fifteen minutes before the battle is on again.

Such a highly regimented life is like clockwork. I felt I was living it for a purpose. A great purpose. Somehow it put some dubious sense of assurance in my young heart that by working hard, scoring well, I can be highly employable in future and get high-paying jobs and live an enviable lifestyle in the eyes of many--including most of my provincial relatives.

Such assurance ran long and deep that I felt I was ALWAYS on the right track. Anyway thousands and hundreds of other kids are working just as hard to fare well. And I seem to fare better and get all that attention from my teachers and fellows--so no way that I am going astray.

Parents and adults asked about ambitions and dreams, all the time. Some adults really care; others ask to satisfy their warped indulgence in voyeurism. I offered many answers, genuine ones, at various different stages of my life: a scientist and Nobel laureate(that one I gave to my grandparents) when I was ten or eleven; linguistic interpreter(when I was in the finest foreign language middle school in my area); diplomat(when I was eighteen or nineteen); anthropologist and neuroscientist.

Now it is a judge. I really want to go to court, but I do not want to be a litigator. A judge now is my ambition. It seems amazing how my dreams and ambitions can seem a far cry from what they used to be and the way they develop is just: non-linear. There was a marked shift in my interest from science to humanities in my JC days. I never had any trouble with science and maths before: I was the Queen of Maths and Physics back in my hometown. I made the record in my middle school years by scoring full marks for every single paper. But in JC I found out how inadequate when it comes to creativity, the depth of understanding when it comes to scientific truism and the width of knowledge testable in Olympics. I felt inept.

So it is natural that when I felt severely overshadowed in the science arena--especially when it comes to Olympics, I turn to channel my passion and self- esteem to what I could do much better. I could write well, or if not I love to write. I frequented libraries to read, and while I am very forgetful about most of what I have read, if something strikes me that much as to compels me to write about it--I remember it well. Some areas of interest perpetually occupy a special place in my mind: game theory, politics and international relations. These are the kind of topics that I involuntarily draw myself towards to if nothing is compelling me to read anything in general and in particular. Hence comes my inchoate ambition to become a diplomat, or an anthropologist.

That part about neuroscience, it was very hard for me to just let go. Johns Hopkins remains my dream too beautiful that when it almost came true I was speechlessly awed. I felt for the first time that such recognition meant a lot to me. A tremendous surge of self-worth and all that. Lifted in the air--flying without wings.

But then I am in law. Doing well. There seemed to be many variants of specializations stemming from the same broad umbrella three-letter-word called law. I don't feel I am spoilt for choices but I do not feel they are Hobson's choices either. Both of my parents are plowing the legal trade most of their lives. They are not the proverbial rich people, far from that. And I am sure I want my life to be vastly different from theirs. But something in common seems to tie us close in ways that I cannot fully appreciate.

So what kind of life do I want? I was thinking about that when I read Your Money or Your Life. People in hostel like to refer to all of us law students as lawyers, but really, different lawyers can have so different kinds of lives even. A religious one. That is the first thing I've decided this year. It seems that God is trying to guide me along the way, making me reflect upon the people I meet, ways of lives I admire, types of relationships I envy, and trying to figure out the best "fit" for me.

I want a classy type of lifestyle, and I am trying hard to hold myself onto that. But this "classy" type of lifestyle had nothing to do with branded goods, luxury holidays, socializing venues, etc. I love holidays: the thrilling one in snow-capped mountain in Japan as well as those quiet ones in some river-side village; I love good food: those in high standard buffet as well as those local delight sold on roadsides; I would love a magnificent villa, but a cosy small cottage would also do. Everything is adaptable so far as the person I am spending my life with is the best fit.

Then I wonder what type of person I am attracted to. Markedly two types of people , both belonging to a sub-species of Homo sapiens called introverts. There is a magnetic pull from those either highly intellectually gifted or artistically gifted. All the guys I love, or contemplated about seriously loving, have either of the two characteristics. Some guys are nice to me, polite, gentle, having that nice emotional strain and masculine charisma, but most of the time I do not like back unless they strike me as either highly intellectual or admirably artistic.

I am a fan girl. I knew it quite long ago when I was in primary school. But to me being intellectual differs from bring nerdy--it has to be this seemingly effortless style of getting things done, elegant but not swag, quiet confidence but not too much sense of self-entitlement. And somehow my balance tends to tip in favor of those who emanate masculine confidence, so they are very hard to get.

There is one article about becoming the one you fantasize over. You impart that nicely touching element of life that you admire into your own mechanism so that you are like him. This is a powerful way of life-improvement for me. It is such subtle emulation that adds things on my wish list, beautify my new year resolutions, and making me feel that I am living for a purpose. These fragments of small purposes can be so trifling but they are made to mean so much to me.

Simply so I can have a taste of living like you do, though not with you.

To live with a purpose. And to live in the moment. Both are so important ways to live a more complete life. I felt very fortunate to ponder over such words, and I am thankful. For the myriad ways of finding that purpose, of feeling energetically about everything, and of getting that not so dubious assurance that I am, after all, getting somewhere.