“Hi, son. How are you?”
I’m good. Happy Birthday.
“Hahaha…thank you, thank you. How are you today?”
I’m good, Pa.
“How’s work today?”
It’s okay. I went to visit a patient at home today which was interesting.
“Yeah, did you get my email?”
“Ya. You know, just keep working away at it and like Ma said the other day, you have to keep developing yourself at your profession and cultivate an interest in it because if you like it, you’ll never have to work again in your life. Dance is still just a hobby, okay?”
“And as much as you talked about opening a dance school and all that, you must remember that back here, we’re Chinese and over there, we’re Asian. So we’re still losing out either way. So focus on your profession. You can move out of there whenever you want but its really important that you get a job before you do that. Otherwise, its really crap to be stuck in a position with no job and no income.”
“Well, its late and you better go to bed.”
I will, Pa.
“Okay, good night.”
*click* *dial tone*
Its not that important that I share with them my dreams and passions, is it?
Yeah, maybe not.
As much as I talk to the Higher Authorities about all this, its nothing more than just a game I’m playing. I might as well be playing chess or blowing bubbles in the backyard for all its worth.
I don’t mean to paint an awful picture of the Higher Authorities.
But this document sat here in front of me for a full 10 minute conversation and I was just hoping to be able to bring up the subject that I’ve been formally accepted into a dance school as an instructor and yet…its just child’s play.
I’m again, just a little boy running in the backyard with a paper plane. I’m a little boy spinning round and round to music in the living room. Just child’s play.
Of course, having your name in print as an instructor means absolute bollocks.
Fuck this. I’m going to bed.