Did I enjoy this as much as I imagined I would? Absolutely. There are some things about journalism that are incredibly exciting: discovering new viewpoints through interviews with people I would otherwise never meet, in places I would otherwise never visit, and asking questions I would otherwise get slapped for. And, to be honest, there’s something about holding a press badge that simply turns me on — big time.

But the impending gloom of returning to Singapore and facing the mountain of overdue assignments on campus does nothing to raise spirits. The prospect of reuniting with the precious darling brings some joy, but is a solitary beacon in the dark sky.

Journalism, or something more financially — and socially — rewarding? Talks with two senior journalists from two other continents surface common themes of feeling “jaded” and of the preference for “doing something else”. The irony: in covering a conference for conservation, is journalism a “sustainable” career? A later conversation with the regional director of yet another continent, however, reintroduces the concept of a “personal curiousity” that ensures a journalist finds new pasture in even the grass that he has been standing on for decades. Four continents (my own included) later, I’m no closer to an answer. Perhaps this is a global dilemma, and not a Singaporean problem as I had imagined.

So I go back to basics and do a pros-and-cons survey. Journalism is something — the only thing — I’m good at. More than immaculately-honed writing skills, it’s about striking angles, remarkable inter-personal skills, and something more intangible — what can only be described as a ‘feel’ for news, an honest sense of wonder — that is arguably more nature than nurture. Journalism (at least the freelance variety — there’s no way I’m going back to SPH) affords me the freedom to plan my own time. Journalism allows me to do something meaningful. And there is the allure of the press badge, which makes for an interesting life — something bankers and engineers can only trick themselves into believing.

On the downside, a career in journalism will probably never see me rich beyond measure. At least not in this lifetime. And there’s the little niggling fear in reality, a really BIG one) of being struck by a certain lightning bolt in Singapore.

“Are you honestly going to live the rest of your life knowing you gave up your passion for money?”

Oh, here we go again. “Hi, glad to know you’ve followed me this far,” I said.

“Hah! You know very well I’m everywhere, child,” he rebukes. “And how are you going to let your pride live down the embarraasment of sucuumbing to fear?”

He was goading me; turning one of my many human weaknesses against myself.

Damn. It’s going to be a long flight back.