How can I change the world, cause I sure can't change your mind

Motivation is the driving force which causes us to achieve goals.

I think Wikipedia needs to refine its definition of the word.

Because the strength of motivation is highly dependable on the goal itself; whether it is a sculpture carved out of passion or just some hasty portrait of incentive. 

Tell me honestly, when was the last time you ever did something for the simple reason that you want to, that you love doing it, that it makes you happy so? If you need to scratch your head for an answer, whoa, you are screwed.

I remember the audition that I rode out back in October on a wave of adrenaline rush, the one that would get me a place in the choir for Christmas caroling. The funny thing about it was, despite my horrendous singing, my perplexing ability to go off tune even with an accompanying instrument, Tian Yi never once flinched. But when he posed the question of why I would want to be part of the group, and I chose to be frank by shrugging and going, “For the experience,” he looked as if I just offered him a lap dance.

“For the experience? Not for the money?”

“Yes, for the experience and not for the money.” I could hear my conviction crumbling under his arched brows. My voice even sounded deflated to my ears, as if his incredulous expression was heavy enough to weigh it down.

I couldn’t help feeling annoyed and frustrated. What does that mean? That my wanting to join for any other reason than a stack of green notes is not a strong enough motivation? That I would just sag and surrender when I think I had stopped absorbing something new?

Probably the materialistic ideal has degraded us to such a stage where we are now squirrels running an endless stretch of treadmill, with cash in place of acorn, dangling in front to lure us forward. You tell me to wake up and be realistic; I tell you to live life and not punish yourself to a slow death doing things you hate and get all hissy pissy over.

The train of motivation could only transport you so far if the fuel is impure; the way only a pure diamond could cut through another.

Take myself for example.

I love music, but I have a passion for writing. I would put the same amount of effort and work into perfecting these two mediums of expression; if I poured a tablespoon of sweat and blood into one, then the exact ingredient would go into the other. They both churn out equal dosage of joy and fulfillment for me. But here’s the thing: I view music as a rainbow and would always expect to find a pot of gold at the end of it; writing, on the other hand, is like scaling a mountain, the only things I look forward to are the beautiful sunset of my completed article and the burst of endorphins over my success.

But I can figure out why. I play a specific kind of music because I was asked to, obliged to, even forced to; and most of the time I did it for marks. So I ended up with high expectations in terms of reward for my hard work instead of trying to take it as learning process. 

The sad thing is, I used to treat writing as a doorway to the room of materialistic rewards too. I would write, but only so that I had a chance to win grand prizes, to milk some cash out of it, instead of thinking whether it made me happy (you have no idea how many essay competitions I joined). But it didn’t last long; I never got anywhere, except going down the steps of self-esteem. Then I decided to change my perspective. I would write only because I wanted to, with no external temptations; because I love how it gave me a freedom to express no other medium could; because I could not imagine a life without this gift. And things began to change as well: I got recruited for the prestigious journalism camp, aka BRATs, by the Star; I had a chance to cover events, working alongside people with a similar passion; I had my article published on the newspapers; my work got recognized.

It made me see things differently from then on. I did not want to slump back to my shallow point of view, the way I apply new techniques I have learnt to play a certain song, rather than stick to the old ones and not gaining an inch in perfecting the tune. Human evolve to have a better life; I want my mentality to do the same.

But why can’t others?

Because we were brought up that way, our society and culture shape us into mental moulds that think hard work comes hand in hand with reward, especially in Asian culture. A classic example would be of primary school days, whereby good grades and top positions in class or achieving remarkable accomplishment in competitions would garner gifts from parents. We were lured and pushed into working our asses off, not for the benefit of ourselves, but for the presents awaiting us on the other side.

No? The line “If you get 1^st in class this year, Mummy will get you the PSP you’ve always wanted” doesn’t sound familiar? I could see your nose growing longer.

Fine. There are exceptions, like my dad. While my mom used to go about finding new ways to tempt us to slave harder, my dad would be, “See this as a self-improvement, study because you want to learn, not because of what present Mummy is going to buy you.” I had always uhmm okay-ed insightfully and nodded fervently in agreement, but it never did get past the part of my brains where it was choked with fantasies of what mom would reward me with for my effort in mathematics.  

Guess that explained a lot about my peeps’ behavior. Our parents may only be doing that as a form of encouragement, but we kids saw it in a different light; and this would turn into the darkness that haunts and determines our actions. They became addicted to the drug of incentive, that the only motivation they know was the benefit they would attain from carrying out a certain activity.

So I won’t blame them, nor will I their parents. It’s the society and the way we react to the sociological shifts and influences.

“Was blind, but now I see.” – Amazing Grace