Untitled because I don’t know how to sufficiently express my thoughts and feelings condensed into a couple words. It’ll just turn into a phrase and that’s not what I’m look for, so it remains untitled.
I’ve been in S. Korea now for a full 6 days, almost a week.
I’ve seen people.
I’ve seen places.
I’ve seen situations.
I’ve seen things.
Somehow, for some reason, the idea of precarious work only existed in Canada.
It only existed in Canada because it’s been taught in a way that associated precarious work with immigrants, refugees and minorities.
It wasn’t so much of the work in itself, but the work that only immigrants, refugees and minorities had access to in order to make their ends meet.
A situation that shouldn’t exist.
A circumstance only experienced by immigrants, refugees and minorities because of race–because of racism, that people like me and others were subject to such work. The idea of precarious work escaped me when it came to a country that is more concentrated with a singular culture.
S. Korea is by no means any close to multiculturalism as Canada.
Canada prides itself as a nation of equality, equity, and multiculturalism.
Only reflected in theory, not in practice.
But S. Korea is mainly Korean people, and in my mind, in a country with only Korean people, there is no precarious work because there is no discrimination by race. But it’s a whole other issue here.
It’s either you were born made, or you don’t make it.
The climb out of working class is near impossible.
When you’re at the bottom, you have difficulties supporting your family, never mind sending your children to top tutors and extra curricular school studies and activities. This drastically affects your chances at getting into a well-known, successful post-secondary. Which in turn affects your chances of success in securing a job. And the cycle continues when the children have their own families.
The. Endless. Dreadful. Cycle.
I thought that being in my homeland I would feel more at ease with seeing my people work. But the reality is, someone’s gotta do those jobs.
Someone’s gotta do the work.
And guess what, that’s people like me. People like me because there’s practically nobody else.
What did I expect? For no one to do these jobs? For them to be paid a working wage?
For white people to do the job?
How naive of me. A whole new level of wishful thinking.
But also why do I feel sorry?
Why do I feel sorry without doing anything?
What am I going to do anyway?
Paid them a living wage?
Change the circumstances?
It’s all competition, and guess what. Competition is real strong here.
Competition brings consequences.
But we need competition for productivity.
We need competition.
Without competition what is our motivation?
What drives us?
Behind whatever our motivation may be, to do good, to impress, to accomplish, competition is a fuel to our motivation.
We see results, we want more.
Not only competition with others, but also competition with ourselves, our mind.
Our mind and thoughts that tell us that we are never good enough.
Forever striving to be our best selves, to beat ourselves and others.
I need to realize and wake up.
I need to live in reality and not in my Utopia.
Stop trying to create my Utopia and get upset when I’m given a reality check.
To accept but not to settle.
Accepting does not always mean to agree or to be okay with it.
It’s just the fact of acknowledgements.
This, I need to learn.
Partly because this is a part of what is causing me my obsession.
My obsession with perfection that fuels my anxiety and depression.
The voice that makes me feel like I’m suffocating.