Have you ever performed on stage or given a speech?
Stage fright is real, folks.
I once knew, intimately knew, a young man who was not afraid to try new things.
To him, the sky was the limit. Whether good or bad, he wanted to sample life to his fullest.
In this, he was not alone nor was he special because of it.
Most if not all young men and women, and teenagers are the worst, think they know it all, rules do not apply to them, and most dangerously, that they shall live forever.
This young man wasn’t any different. Reared from an early age in the spirit of playful discovery, and encouraged by his mother to take on any academic challenges, he soon became infatuated with his performance in school.
His mother, forever his sidekick, would spur him on with words meant to foster an indelible amount of trust in self. Partially earned, this trust outgrew its foundation, and soon became a false mantra.
The young man started to believe his mother’s words. “You are a genius!”, she’d often tell him. “Nobody equals your perspicacity!” And many more such phrases, intended, no doubt, to increase his self-reliance.
But as most castles in Spain are made of sand and built on shifty grounds, this all came tumbling down one sunny September afternoon.
It was the eve of the beginning of the academic year in university. And the young bloke was surrounded by his new colleagues, and in funds provided by his darling mother who knew how to ally encouragements with material recompense.
He was touching the sky, having just been admitted, with the fifth highest marks, after three gruelling exams, to the University of Bucharest – History Program.
This was his anno memorabilis. This was his prime.
And yet, he felt the need to do something else.
He wanted to make a mark. He wanted to impress his friends, his family, his mother. And perhaps wanted to prove to the world and its naysayers lurking in the shadows, that he was not to be trifled with.
So, driven mostly by ambition, or what the Ancient Greek had called hubris, he applied and was selected to be a contestant in the popular TV show of Jeopardy, then called Who Wants to be a Billionaire.
Mind you, these were billion ROL we’re talking about, not billions of dollars. At the time, 1 billion ROL was something like $100,000-300,000.
Still a lot of money but nothing out of the extraordinary nowadays.
Back then, you could actually buy a mansion, a car, and a living on that cash.
Nowadays, it’s called the new normal for the middle class.
How times change.
So, I go in: full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes.
While I was waiting with a fellow student, in front of the studio for our batch of contestants to be called for the recording, I remember being very cool and composed. In hindsight, I was way too detached and Germanic about it.
I was not my own self. Even then, it felt strange to be overcome with serenity. As if I wasn’t going in under the actual limelight, ready to face the host, the questions, the cameras, and the audience.
After a long wait, our turn came, and we went in.
Now, I didn’t go in blind. I knew a bit what I was going to experience but nothing could have prepared me to endure and thrive under the combined offensive of the fake host, incredibly hot room, immense set of lights, noise, clapping audience and of course the barrage of questions.
I didn’t seize. Worse, it was much worse. I started to sweat. Like big time. To the point where I forgot myself, didn’t understand the simple questions, which came with multiple answers. I began to lose it. In the end, I was happy to escape not only with my life, but also a decent hoard of history books I could have never afforded on my own.
Funny thing, although at the time I knew the answer to questions like “Which country has the largest stock of pigs?”, I failed to give the right answer. Yet, the moment I got out of the set, all the answers started rolling out of my head, as if a dam had just broken.
And yeah, the answer was China.
And of course, I was that young foolish man.
Götterdämmerung 