"Why don't you aspire to get a real job?"

Happy new year to one and all! One of the best things about being British born Chinese is easily, having two new years. That's right, the eve of January the 1st I get to drink copious amounts of alcohol with friends, and by the time Chinese new year arrives, I'm ready to spend time with my family, eat copious amounts instead of drink, and attempt to start my new year's resolutions again.
There's nothing quite like spending time with family. At Christmas and new year, all feuds are put aside briefly, and the time for eating commences. I can't imagine a life without two new years now.
When our family get together, more often than not the karaoke machine gets dusted off, and cranked right up. Luckily, my uncle's house stands solitary in a peaceful (!) cul-de-sac and we can warble as tunelessly as we like until the early hours of next year.
I don't remember new year's always being like this though. I remember I spent the eve of January 1st 2000 in Hong Kong. I was 13 years old, so drinking, cavorting and partying was completely out of the question. Meanwhile, my cousin's left to arrive fashionably late at their various parties, while I swept my grandmother's floor. Then my uncle came home with my brother.
"So what are your new year's resolutions Cindy?" he asked in a disinterested tone.
I thought hard. "I'm going to write more. I want to be a writer." It was never a case that I wouldn't be. I really had no other plans in life as I was notoriously bad at maths and any science. "I think I want to be a journalist," I deliberated after while.
Much to my surprise, he laughed. "Journalism? Why don't you aspire to get a real job, a job where you're skills are a required service? Like law? Or medicine? Maybe even nutrition," he added, remembering my weaknesses in science.
At the time, I thought nothing of it. I was a child, and I would become a novelist if I could not become a journalist, I thought. Easy. Today, I am thankfully estranged from that side of my family.
Aged 22 and studying for a Masters in International Journalism, it is hard to believe that I ever thought that it was ok for someone to tell me that becoming a journalist was not aspirational, or helpful to society.
Almost ten tears later, that conversation is still ingrained in my memory. I'm not sure why, but rather than hinder me, it's urged me forward. I remember just as clearly the day my father left us (this uncle is his brother) and my mother saying to me, "Do you're very best and no one will ever fault you. We can prove them all wrong."
I live by those words of encouragement now. If my uncle had said that to me today, my response would be entirely different. I would like him to try telling me that Watergate's Bob Woodward and Karl Bernstein were not providing a service. Or the journalists Anastacia Burburova and Anna Politkovskaya who laid their lives on the line so that the world would be able to see the political terrors of their country were not doing a "real job".
Thank you uncle, for making me see that in what I aspire to do, I am providing one of the best services I could possibly offer to the world.