...But, You Asked...

Hey, Krys, will you help me with a speech thing for Toastmasters?

Sure.  What do you want help with?  Poise?  Gestures? Inflection?

Nah, I'm doing an advanced manual.  For interviewing.

...  I... see...  You realize that whatever that one speech is wanting you to do is just the tip of the ic--

Just sit here.  I have a list of questions and I need a partner for this.

Resignation set in as I realized my friend really didn't want my help on this particular speech, as much as he wanted a body in the chair across from him to fulfill a tick in his "Speech Making" book.  Therein lay my fundamental problem with Toastmasters.  A degreed, professional speech and leadership coach was held back within the organization because she didn't do it the "Toastmaster Way."  Whatever.  DTM doesn't hold as much weight in the business world as MA or PhD.

Okay, K, first question.  How did you get here?

I drove.

C'mon!  Don't be a smartass!  I'm being serious!

Then ask me a serious question.  "How did you get here" is a vague question.  How did I get to this place?  This city?  This state?  This age?  This precise moment of living hell?  Be specific.  What is it you want to know?

My friend blinked at me a moment, probably taken aback by my frankness.  You ask for my help, you're going to get it.  Remember, I charge money to abuse people this way--and they like it!  Goddesses, that sounded wrong.  Get your mind outta the gutters, my readers.

How did you get where you are in your life?

Still not a solid question, but it's workable.  My life is pretty vast, and this little drill is only one aspect.  Do you want a specific area, or do you really want a general response?

General.

I gave up caring too much what other people think about me.  Once I decided that no one was going to appreciate my knowledges, skills, abilities, and talents--that's KSAOs, by the way--I started doing my thing for my own happiness.  It's terrifying to people who prefer the safety and security of a cage while longing for freedom.

My friend stared at me blankly.  Uh, can you simplify that?

What's to simplify?  The fucks I gave went that way?  Does that help you?

Er.  Let's just move on.  Second question: What is your least favorite memory from childhood?

My least favorite memory from childhood?  Seriously?  When are you doing this ... speech?

Tonight!  So, I really need you to cooperate.

I stared blankly at my soon-to-be-ex-friend, blinked a few times, then slowly closed my eyes for a mental facepalm before abandoning any hope that he would actually write good interview questions.

Krys?

Sorry, was trying to recall.  Since it would be a least favorite, I've pushed those from my brain.  I suppose it would be January 28, 1986.  I had just turned 8, and my hero, Christa McAuliffe, was heading into space.

Why was she your hero?

Her name was the same as mine.  Christa.  C-H-R-I-S-T-A.

I thought your name was K-R-Y-S-T-A?

If you would shut up, I'd get to that.  I was excited because I loved science.  I wanted to be an astronaut and explore space.  Sally Ride and Christa McAuliffe were my heroes and two women I wanted to meet and work with.  I had trouble grasping the fact that my hero had exploded along with her space shuttle.  When I talked about it at school on January 29, one of the older kids turned to me and said, "Her name was Kristie.  If it had been Christa, we'd have hoped it was you!"  I'd never heard so much vitriol in one person's voice.  I couldn't understand why or how someone could be so hateful towards another person.  I stopped liking my name...I lost my interest in being an astronaut... That was the moment that launched me onto a voyage in the turbulent waters of bullying.  That is my least favorite memory.

Okay.  Wow.  Uh, third question: If you could change one thing in your past, what would it be?  I bet it's that scenario, huh.  That's really rough.

I would change nothing.

Nothing?  Really?!  Even after that awful event?

Nothing.  One of my favorite concept albums is called Beethoven's Last Night.  One of the scenes surrounds the song "This is Who You Are," and it involves Fate offering Beethoven the opportunity to go back and change any singular event in his life, with the caveat that it would change future events.  Every piece of music he created told the story of his life; to change one thing about his life would have changed his music.  'It's the strangers in your life you'd never thought you'd meet...it's the hand that cut you down, it's the dream that someone shared...change one note, change one line, nothing's going to be the same.  Change one loss, change one cut, everything is re-arranged."  If I changed one thing about myself, I wouldn't be who I am today.  I think the only thing I want to change is my name.  I don't think it suits me.

Oh?  Why is that?  Because it was the name of your hero?

No.  My name means "Follower of Christ."  Whereas, yes, that is true...I'm not a blind follower.  I will follow, but I will also lead.  I have been cut down, but I have regrown, stronger.  My name should be reflective, not of my faith alone, but of my life, my personality.  I would have to do a lot of research to find the name that truly fits me, but it is one of power, hidden within delicate petals.

I still think it's because you're hanging on to a past hurt.  You really should let that go, you know.  Live in the now.  In the present and look forward to the future.

I had to restrain myself.  Nothing bugs me more than a person who asks a question then gets judgey when they receive the answer.  Well, that's not true.  I'm rather misanthropic, anymore, so people in general bug me about the same.  Sometimes more.  I suppose when posed questions of this nature, I could just make up a story, but that would be ingenuine of me.  Is that a word?  It is now.  I sat and stared at my ex-friend.  Slowly, I smiled and offered a few final thoughts.

Let me ask you a question.  Have you ever communed with the trees in a place formerly known for social gatherings?  Have you ever felt them reach out to you--begging you to touch them because they missed the light caresses of ladies' fingers as they strolled, sipping their afternoon tea?  Have you ever listened a starry sky sing to you because it knew that you, a small blip of nothingness in this vast universe--that you alone could hear their song?  Do I focus on my past?  No.  I often wonder what became of those who bullied me when I was kid--did they ever find the love they desperately needed?  Did they find their solace and peace?  Or, did they grow into corporate bullies, interested only in themselves and how much they can make.  That is the extent of my "focus."  Let me be clear--clearer than crystal--you go about your life, day in and day out, safely within your routine.  Within your box of societal standards and norms, conforming, but resenting it.  I?  I live.  I experience life.  I experience nature.  I experience the universe in ways you couldn't imagine.  I'm excited for each new day and the experiences I get to have.  Even in my darkest days of depression--when the world seems twisted and evil; snarling trees with knotted and twisted branches tearing at my face--even in those moments, I still get to experience life.

I have a question for you: Do you experience life, or merely live it?

There was a long pause.  My ex-friend coughed, looked at his notes, then at me.  I'm sorry I wasted your time.  I'll just find someone else for tonight.  Thanks, though.

Yeah, you're welcome.  One of the keys to interviewing someone is asking questions for which you truly want answers.  Remember, I've said nothing here for which you did not ask.  Good luck in your speech.  I'm sure it will be flawless and everyone will love it.  After all, that is the Toastmaster Way.