She speaks. Or rather, she writes.

So I just came back from this 4 day trip to the east

Malaysia

,
and for some reason, the events that happen seemed to have thrown me into a
contemplative mode with sudden bouts of emotionalism.

 

1. My job.

 

One of the customers asked me something along the lines of “What
the fuck is a woman doing in this field” OK, not so crude, and definitely in
more flowery language than that. More importantly, he really was just making
conversation as opposed to being antagonistic.

 

But he got me thinking. What AM I doing here? It’s not cars,
it’s not bikes. It’s HEAVY EQUIPMENT. Where, the tiniest of spare parts would
not fit into my handbag. Where after meetings in offices, you might have to
take a trip to the jungle, heels and handbags be damned. Where, if your truck
gets stuck in mud, you first thank God you buy cheap heels, THEN you step in
the mud and try creating fraction for the wheels to move. Where your PR skills
mean nothing, where your practiced English becomes more of a hindrance than a
conversation starter. Where, you being female make things uncomfortable for the
men. Where, for you to be of any value, you’d have to be in the industry for at
least 10 years.

 

I really am struggling to find how I can be of contribution
here.

 

2. The meaning of life.

 

Whoaaa!~ I know. And yes, all religious people will have a
field day explaining this to me. But really, I work the corporate ladder, I
find a good man, I make good babies, I bring them up to refrain from
questionable behavior until they’re at least 18, I get sick with some illness,
I die. Some variations in there perhaps, but the beginning and end remain the
same. So what does it matter what we do in life? And for some, heaven and hell
can be answer enough why what we do in life matters, but I think this same line
of questioning will still exist for me even when I’m in heaven. (Or hell, but
hey, why jinx it)

PURPOSE. What’s the purpose of life? (And those reading,
yes, I’ve heard about the book “Purpose driven life” and I’ve even read some
parts of it. I think it’s great creative writing, and I think the guy that
wrote it has enough millions in the bank for him to see his ‘purpose’ in life)
Doesn’t quite help me find mine.

 

Sigh. Was my brain always this complicated?

 

3. Having a man.

 

Some (read: many) have commented that having a man in my
life will magically cure me of all these questions in my head. So maybe, just
maybe, the women of the yesteryears had it right. Find a man by 20, get
married, and life’s great mysteries will work itself out. Oh. And don’t get a
job, that only creates more questions, be a good girl and work the house (and
your hubby).

 

Problem is, I don’t buy into such nonsense. (And I know
those that are in love are shaking their heads and going tsk tsk on me) But
really, I want a long term solution. A man, like a roller coaster ride,
provides temporary distractions. After the 6 month deadline (some even 3 months
or less), life’s reality and queries come crashing back. Going on and searching
for another distraction is how I’ve been living life, and I probably would
continue doing so after this bout of confusion passes by.

 

But right now I worry, 5 years down the road, when my little
distractions don’t work anymore, I’ll be having the same issues, and an added flavor:
I’ll be 30 and still confused.

 

Maybe life is meant to be this way, who knows. If I’m 30 and
still confused, I’ll just take up some dangerous sport to keep the adrenaline
pumping and the questions subdued.

 

Cheerios y’all. Hope the mood is not infectious.