Memory

Lingering on in the recesses of the mind, triggered off by a scent, a sight, or an object, it dwells hidden until necessity dictates its use. Like today.

Met my secondary school Geog/form teacher on the train. I was surprised he remembered me. He said teachers usually remember either the really obedient, hardworking students, or the out and out hellraisers. I did not dare ask to which category i belonged, most likely the third: "Teacher's pet turned delinquent" (due to peer pressure, raging rebelliousness and whatsnot).

We chatted all the way, and was surprised to find out that he quitted teaching to explore his calling. He's now a pastor in training at the Singapore Theological College. Which brings me back to point. Do i see myself cramped in a stuffy office working on Memos and Appellant Briefs? The answer is a clear, succint NO. However, the alternative is so much bleaker, and not to say less monetarily rewarding. I'm not mercenary, i just want to lead a comfortable life, hopefully seeing the world before i die. I have no talent, no professional training, with only "my best" to offer the world. Sadly, as William Hung so enlighteningly exemplified, it is just not enough.