“Tell me something about yourself” the interviewer told me.
This type of question gets me into trouble, not only in job interviews, but in my casual conversations as well. Now, this is not about how quick a conversation with me gets sour. But rather, a thought which is difficult to answer.
If you care enough to look at my profile, my “About me” says:
I don’t know that much. As far as I know, I like Listening to music, watching movies, eating, and probably other things you guys like; but, I do know the difference between your Dad and me.
Like McPatrick Head, I may appear a physical and emotional mess but I am a sensitive man inside.
It was written around the time I joined Facebook. Let’s see if I can fare any better today and add on that.
I’ve been spending my time playing some guitar.
My first guitar lesson lasted for about a week– we met only once a week. When I was scolded by my guitar teacher for having my own strumming pattern known as “One, Two, One, Two”, that was it. I wanted a way out.
You know that romantic scene where you’re given a gift during childhood, let’s say a set of coloring materials, and then you suddenly discover your passion in life? Nothing like that happened to me. As a kid growing up, listening to Rock n’ Roll bands such as Aerosmith and Guns N’ Roses made it seem cool to own an electric guitar. My dad and I walked into a music store, and this black electric guitar got my attention. I was, if I remember it correctly, nine. We decided to buy it. To test it, The store clerk showed his guitar chops (skills). After that, he told me if I kept playing seriously until I reached fourteen, I would surpass his playing ability. A few months later, we sold the guitar (to this day, not been fully paid) we bought to rust.
I spent the entire college days as a cheerleader of music, if you will. I just admired music from afar, not to mention learning a few basic chords to boost my ego.
Going back to the interview, he also asked me about what idea really attracted me, “Truth” I said (Note to the reader: I don’t ever recommend you answering this in a job interview.) I could not really explain it back then. I wasn’t thinking about thought in a kooky, metaphysical way. But rather, truth in in its practicality. To start from nothing to get to somewhere. To have this information, which was previously unknown to someone, years, weeks or even days ago suddenly becomes at one’s disposal is pretty cool in my book. Anyway, I might be veering far off.
In September 2012, I took a break from teaching, and decided to go corporate. But instead of climbing the corporate ladder, I found myself descending to a dungeon. However, working there would lead to bringing my interest in guitar playing back to the foreground.
My job as a field representative for a charity dealt with stopping people, making a pitch, and hopefully, give me their credit card information. One eventful afternoon, under the sweltering sun, two beautifully dressed ladies came my way. Little did I know they were playing in a rock band. One of them, eventually became my teacher.
She was (and still is) very instrumental in my musical education, in terms of motivating me to pick up the guitar by raising the bar, thus, making me rethink my practice habits. She never misses to give me a pat on back as well after passing her challenges.
What made all these possible? Fate? That all has been set up from the start? A Slumdog Millionaire-esque story? Well, it can give one serious ego problems— just look at what it did to Hitler.
Or was it a series of random events that have no meaning, just merely coincindences? That “Look, snow is falling. What’s the meaning in that?” argument. Too strict.
As random as these events may have been, it there is one thing I can’t deny: the impossible odds. The (im)probability of such things happening.
But somehow, there’s seems to be an order in the middle of this randomness.
Other representatives were also at the site who were only standing a few meters away from me. In other words, the other field reps could have stopped those two ladies, as they had a better position of doing so. Or had I said the wrong words they could have turned on their distress button and walked away.
What do events like this tell us? Something? Nothing? It’s another game of Black and White. Whatever the answer may be, it’s okay to admit that we don’t have all the answers. Maybe we miss the answer the moment we stop and think about it. I don’t know. I’m just babbling. Any ideas?
As long as we don’t start with a conclusion, it’s healthy to ask more questions, even from the most trivial to the hardest of the philosophical ones.
So what better way to end this with yet another question: Where has the rest of the electric guitar payment gone to?