January 2000

In this first month of the millennium (there, I used the M word), I would like a share a secret with you. I have the power to grant you the wish of being whoever you want to be. Would you like to be a president? Or be a Chairman of the Board of the richest company on earth? What about being a famous movie star or the most popular singer in the world?

If fame or riches is not your vice, what about being a mystery writer, or a designer of whatever your heart's desire? To grant you this wish, I have only to believe you. If you looked into my eyes and said, I am the world’s best soccer player and I gave you my complete trust, then you can be who you say you are. Simple.

Ah, but who has the harder task in this deal? There is nothing for me to do but believe. You, however, are the one who must create. And what better place to do it than here, in a country where no one knows your past, or would bother to check your references?

I'm not the first one to notice this. Have you ever wondered why there are more “models” in this city then in any other one on earth? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for recreating oneself. I've taken full advantage myself. Where else can I claim to be a writer for the city’s most famous English magazine?

I met Sarah when she first arrived in China from a small coastal town in Canada. Awkward and shy, and self-conscious of her plumpish figure, she timidly assumed her role as English teacher. But from day one, her students adored her and thought she was beautiful. Then she noticed how locals and foreigners alike respected her flawless English. From a widening circle of international friends, she learned about global music and culture.

I moved away and didn't see her for about a year. By chance I saw her again the day before she left China for home. We had coffee in the same café where we first me. I didn't recognize her when she walked in. Gone was the awkwardness or the plumpish figure. In its place, I saw a woman serene and confident. China has helped me grown, she said.

Not all recreation stories inspires to this degree. For some, the results have been quite the reverse. Mild-mannered people becoming demanding ogres overnight. Or loving mates and cultured sophisticates becoming night trawlers who, in the light of day would mutter, I never do this at home.

For better or worst, we have all felt Shanghai's offer of endless possibilities to create who we want to be. Like an electrical current that electrifies the all matter solid or otherwise – the very air in this city beckons us to create. But such ease can sometimes be more of a burden than blessing.

In a city paved with boundless opportunities, how can one choose? Temptations beckon: riches or fame or endless nights of flowing champagne? Who we chose to be then must come down to who we really are inside.

He sat across the table from us. He listened respectfully as we pitched our ideas for a promotion he was running. Like all successful entrepreneurs he had once touched bottom with nothing but will in his pocket to restart a life. But the second time around his luck had changed and now he was on the crest of a new venture. The tough times were not so far behind that he wouldn't listen to some other upstart.

But he had ideas of his own, strong ones, and they weren't going in our direction. Now if you could do that for us, he said, this project can be yours. He was throwing numbers with so many zeros at us that my mind couldn't compute fast enough. It wasn't until I left the office that I realized, that’s what he was talking about.

For the next 24-hours I was dazed with visions of what this project would mean. Images of being that person danced in my head. All was well except one nagging voice that wouldn't let me sleep – who did you want to be? It said over and over.

When I left the states, I threw away the business card that said Marketing Manager for a Fortune 500 company. Assuming my new role as English teacher, I noticed that the correct pronunciation for “three” mattered to my students in a way that all my previous marketing work hadn't. Now here I was, selling my marketing skills again. The country was different, but the question is still the same, what matters?

I want to be Queen for a day and declare that all drivers must take driving lessons from my father. I want to be emperor and declare that all parents must be licensed to have children. I want to be god for eternity and declare that mosquitoes no longer need blood for food. But most of all, I want to be somebody who works for something in this world that matters.

The meaning of what matters is, of course, an intimate and personal thing. Your definition would no more be the same as mine any more than your fingerprints would be. However, in the attempt to recreate who we are, I only suggest that you keep in mind what matters to you. I almost forgot.