‘tell me a bit about yourself’
Where do you begin in explaining a person?
Across the table, he shuffles a stack of papers and then looks up. “Tell me a bit about yourself, Elizabeth — or do you prefer Libby?”
“Elizabeth is good,” I respond quickly. I am biting the inside of my cheek and I know that my voice sounds thick and heavy. But I am nervous, and I am not sure what to say. “I guess…” I hesitate. What is there to say? I want to begin with something beautiful. Something striking. Something that will make this interviewer remember me. I want to talk about how much I love post-modernist literature, or how I’m interested in learning Italian or Russian, or how I’m considering working in museums. Instead, I say, “yeah, I guess I like English…” “Do you like writing?”
And here is where I should say that I have the drafts of three novels sat on my computer, that I have submitted article ideas to several different sites, that I stayed up late last night writing.
I have never been very good at beginning a conversation. Beginnings in general have always been tricky. I am never quite sure whether to hug someone new I met at a gig or party, and I don’t know when I can ask for someone’s number either. Beginning to explain myself as a person is even harder. I cannot sell myself to you — I can barely even smile at myself in the mirror some days.
These staccato sentences fall from my mouth all too often, loosely connected and inevitably kind of underwhelming. You and me, and all the people that we love and hate, are so much more than a list of interests and places visited. So much more makes up a person than a favourite book or a weekend hobby.
You are the first time you cry trying on lingerie, and you are the first time you cry when you leave flowers on your uncle’s grave. You are all the sunsets you’ve ever watched and all the people you have ever walked away from. You are a new green toothbrush in a chipped blue cup. You are a monthly prescription that you wish you didn’t have. You are so much more besides. You are a person.
Eventually, the interview feels less like an interrogation and more like a conversation. “You’re interested in curating?” he says, looking animated. “Did you see that pottery exhibition in town?”
And suddenly, the moment I stop listing everything I’ve ever achieved and start discussing the things I care about, I feel like I am doing things right.
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