I am Picasso

No desk-bound job: check.
Breathing Mother Nature's air: check.
Being appreciated for the person I am: check.
On the go: check.
Creative output: check.
Free meals and house pick-up in the morning: check.

It's all what I've been longing for in a job, and yet there's a niggly tug in a corner of my head. Why ain't I orgasmically happy?

It's only day two and I already miss the collegial atmosphere of school, the friendly banter with peers, and quite keenly, colleagues. Sam adds to the pain: he tells me ST Urban is chock-full of babes, and I wince. But most of all, while I am fast-tracked to learn business nous and my work wonderfully multidisciplinary, I strangely miss the obligation for intellectual rigour programmed into me since I was 6. And the irony hits me: I have longed to escape the stranglehold of academic parameters of success; I fought it in school and indeed I have now escaped it -- but I feel its insiduous tentacles sucking my ideals, pulling me back into its cold embrace. Horror of horrors: Can I -- money aside -- find fulfilment in non-academic success?

Yes. when I consider Picasso's (thanks Zhengs) take on redefining success, my heart rouses and know I will I wake up each new day driven (pun unintended) nearer to a longstanding life goal: to star in whatever I do.

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Picasso:

"One day, my mother said to me, "If you become a soldier, you will be a general. If you become a monk you'll end up as the Pope.

Instead, I became a painter. And now I am Picasso."