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I just realized today that I like my job, but don’t love it. It’s a cool job, no doubt, that turns eyes in conversations. It’s a sexy field and I enjoy how it puts demands on my mathematical and problem solving skills. I don’t mind bringing work home or reading-up in my free time, but that’s only because of my tendency to become obsessive-compulsively dedicated. I don’t love my job because it is not intrinsically meaningful and interesting to me, unlike physics, astronomy or music.
It’s the same with lust and love.
I wrote this entry towards the end of the last year -
It’s the end-of-year and I’ve been really pensive.
More than 4 months have passed since I started work. That’s a third of a year. I don’t think I can still say I’m new in the office. Soon it will be 5 years, and I another major decision would be due. Should I stay on here or go abroad for further studies? Should I stay with the same company if I choose to stay? What do I want if I went abroad? Is pursuing a 15 years-old’s dream still worthwhile when I’m twice that age? Should I just further my studies, on the company’s terms, within the next two years, and then serve the remainder of my obligations when I return? These questions may be premature, but I still have no answer despite having mulled over them for the past 3 years. I’ll have a better sense a few years down.
I’m not quite comfortable with the way we become boxed in socially in the office, where newcomers get adopted by a group with whom they lunch with. While that is comforting in his first days, it can stifle the development of his social circle in the workplace. Given the introverted culture here, it is difficult enough to break into another social enclave once the boundaries are established.
I was just wondering if my personality here and abroad are any different. I remember being more reserved around fellow countrymen when I was abroad, consciously or subconsciously. I gather that it’s a defense mechanism. Most people I know move in the same social orbits, and it can be unwieldy when word gets out on any guffaws. For the same reason, our workplace personality can be very different from the “real” us.
I was clued in on the fuss on my joining the office only in recent months. A new cubicle space was carved out for me, unlike other new hires. There was also some haggling and bargaining on what I should eventually work on. Quite apparently there’s no lack of preferential treatment showered on us too, as I’ve observed. How can I mitigate the little peer resentment directed on us as a result of our “extraordinary status”? Having to live up to expectations can be a burden.
While I was ruminating on my “previous life” in my earlier post, I wondered what I’ve accomplished during those two halcyon years, within my job scope. If I’ve to be honest with myself…. nothing much, despite informal assurances from the bosses about how much I’ve done for them. Professionally, it did little for me. Personally, I’ve picked up things that are useful in a work environment, which then again, can be picked up anywhere. I’m fortunate to have a pretty eventful out-of-office life.
I’m headed for Switzerland on a work trip! But that means more preparations. It’s stressful preparing, but the homework’s necessary if I want to have the most out of the trip.
Priorities, priorities. What should I do next year? Should I continue with tutoring? I enjoy teaching, but sad to say, I only have time for half the number of students I took this year. It’s a way to maintain connection with my former students. Am I taking up a foreign language? Should I do volunteer work? What’s on the social front?
I’ve cleared out most of my room. I managed to salvage space with the addition of a loft bed from IKEA. Now I need a standing lamp. Not sure if there’s space for a keyboard though. I’d really like to own one. There may even be space for a mini armchair or sofa!
I still can’t forget her. There’s no future, but it makes me happy just to stay in touch with her, and give her gifts if there’s a chance of that. I can’t live like this forever. Things have to move, in her direction, or elsewhere…
It was an all-concerto programme the Hsing Hai CO. I estimate that the average age of the soloists to be about twenty. A common problem afflicted most of the performances. In most of the concertos, I’d wished the soloist could either play louder, or have their sounds amplified by the loudspeakers. The microphones, themselves an eyesore to start with, risk hindering the soloists’ movements.
I found the soloist for “Hong Mei Sui Xiang Qu” rather restrained. He was technically impeccable, but maybe just too cautious to “get it correct”. Nevertheless it was an impressive achievement for him to have performed the concerto despite his relative youth. He played Zigeunerweisen just the previous weekend! The concerto might have sounded better if the volume of the soloist’s microphone had been turned up.
I wasn’t really paying attention during the flute concerto, so I can say much.
The orchestration sounded a little weird for the erhu solo “Jiang He Shui”. I remember the same soloist perform the same piece at a recital last year. I can’t remember enough to compare her playing with that last year. But it was definitely more interesting this time round. There seem to be as many different orchestral arrangements as there are recordings for concertos. This arrangement sounded overly melodramatic and “movie-music-like”. The soloist also had a habit of glancing at the conductor a little too frequently — a habit that might have arisen from her experience as a regular orchestra performer. I would have prefered a more introspective and pensive take.
Next up was the yangqin concerto, “Man Xiang Sui Xiang Qu”. I had been looking forward to this since I heard about the concert! I was irked by the unstrategic placement of the microphone which was placed right in front of the instrument. It bothered the soloist enough that she had to nudge it forward. Anyway, shouldn’t the microphone be placed below the yangqin to capture sound from the soundboard? For reasons I’ve already mentioned, the acoustics didn’t do justice to the soloists. I know that she packs a punch in her playing because I just saw her perform the previous week at the mini-recital, so it is not her fault that she got drowned out by the orchestra like the other soloists. I’d prefer to hear the yangqin arpeggios rise above the orchestra’s volume, even when they are only playing a supporting role. I’d love to hear her perform again.
The final piece for the night, “Kong Que Dong Nan Fei”, was a pipa-erhu double concerto. It sounded more like a pipa concerto since most of the challenging parts were played on the pipa. This time neither instruments were drowned out by the orchestra. The pipa soloist really shone here. I want to hear it again! It’s a pity I still couldn’t find the mp3.
I’ve more to say about English translations of Chinese titles. Maybe I’ll leave that for a later post.
