How can you refuse a calling?

Most parents control the future of their children by making decisions for them, sometimes without the child's consent. They tell their kids to be lawyers, accountants, doctors, anything that they thought as the best for the kids. But my mother boasts about how she liberates her kids to choose whatever they want to be. Sounds like I've got the good one?

Well, things are not always like it sounds. My mom is not exactly the democratic kind of mother. When she says I could be whatever I want, I still got to fill her check list of ideals, including economic ideals.

The thing is I fell in love with journalism. Mommy approved it, since it's not a negative thing. Not till she knew how much an Indonesian journalist make.

She supported me when I went to college for a degree in journalism. She wasn't so happy when I had to go all around Jakarta for reports when I worked as a freelance photographer, but she didn't complain -- because she thought I was just enjoying my free time, making little money for snacks. Then I applied to one of the biggest media corporate in Indonesia and got accepted as a freelanced reporter for their newspaper (it's actually a part I have to undergo before working there full time).

And then she asked me, how much did I ask for my wage. I answered her with the number AJI advocates as the adequate income for Jakarta-based journalists. She frowned and said, "But I can make that much just by sitting in SOS Clinic for one to two hours." I forgot to mention, Mommy is a radiologist.

I was like, what is it with you? When I first say I want to be a journalist, I signed a contract that I will not be extravagantly rich and I thought you backed me up. I would probably just make enough for food on my table, but I would be happy. I mean, what more could you be asking for? I suppose she was asking me for a trip to Europe or at least somewhere around other parts of Asia.

Well I replied her, "Ma, you yourself said that in life, we will always always have enough money, no matter how little we make. Where did that go?"

"Yeah, but look at your sister. Her living expense is like, what, 10 million a month?"

"I can live with lesser bills."

"No you can't."

"Yes. People don't have to spend that much money in life, Ma."

"No. Your sister buys everything in traditional market and doesn't go shopping anymore. It's how much you make ends meet right now. You can not live with less than that."

"Yes I can. When I said to you I wanna be a journalist, I've already anticipate the low income. I just want you to back me up."

She was on my door by that time. As she opened it, about to go out of my room, she said, "You should make more, since you got a good education and stuffs." Then she went out.

Then I went furious.

For God sake, off course I will be wealthier if I choose to be a doctor like Mom or like my brother. But this journalism love is a calling. How can you refuse a calling? And it's not like I make so little I couldn't live with it. I could. The number is not that extremely low.

I want to do what I want to do, where I feel my heart is, where my passion is. I may choose the wrong path. One day in the future, I will probably regret the fact that I don't really care how much I make, but I will never know if I never try. I just wish my mother would show more appreciation. If not by coming to my photo exhibition, or by congratulating me on my first media appearance (she didn't do all that!), at least I don't want her to complain about my being accepted in this newspaper. Please, Ma..