Once upon a time…

First of all, yes, this is me, thirty years ago.

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Oh my gosh… thirty freaking years ago.

Ok, now that that’s out of the way, this is a photograph of one of my first memories, and it has an interesting and somewhat adorable story to it.

I have always remembered the time when my father drew me a clown so that I would color it in. I was very excited, and colored it really really well, I was quite proud of the outcome, I had kept the brush within the lines very very well.

So I walk up to my dad, and I proudly present him our joined work of art.

He looked at it and laughed, and then told me “that’s all wrong”.

My heart was broken.

He the  told me to go outside and stand in the varanda, and took this photograph.

Can you see the heart ache?

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OH MY GOD I WAS SO FREAKING CUTE! Look at that pout.

Yes, my favorite color was red. No, this was not a creepy kid painting a bloodied psycho clown. I really really thought I had done an excellent job.

Now the interesting bit is that as I grew, and my idea of ‘correct coloring in’ changed, so did my memory of this moment. I genuinely thought my father had been unfair, and that I had  painted it very well, with several colors.

Then, decades later, I found this photo.

Interesting how the mind works.

‘Led’ me to a memory

For some reason I decided to listen to this song, and it brought back memories.

Memories of an ex, during one of his almighty incessant yapping sessions. Boy did he love to hear himself talk. Towards the end I had developed a sort of blocking mechanism, he’d yap and I’d be playing a song in my head.  I wasn’t really there anymore, and I certainly wasn’t listening. By the time I had decided I was tired of putting up with him I was playing this one in my head, drumming my fingers to the beat as he yapped on.

My pessimism

I am most definitely a pessimist, I am easily demotivated and always assume the worst will happen when there is a 50/50 chance.

The best example I can find that is current is what happened yesterday: As you will see if you scroll down on my blog, I am planning a holiday. The first place I looked up offered a great price initially, but the price rose to a point I found unacceptable. So my boyfriend and I looked up in another place, that not only could not match the price of the first agency, but was even more expensive. Then we visited a third place, and the price seemed great, the lady at the agency told us that the price should be around 1.040 euros. Perfect. Only she could not give us confirmation as it was sunday, and confirmations could only be made on weekdays.

I went back on monday to see if she could confirm, and the expression on her face immediately made me see something was wrong. She told me we could go, but the supplement wasn’t 200 euros anymore, but 520 euros! Our holidays would cost 1.285 euros per person.  I was upset. She told me she’d send an email saying that it was her bad, that she had processed our request too slow, and see if they could lower the price, and said that she would also queue us up to a new supplement list, and we’d have a 50/50 chance of getting an even lower price: 934 euros per person.

So I give her the go ahead, go back to work, and what do I proceed to do?

Sulk.

I sulked like a little girl, I told my boyfriend I felt demotivated, that things never went well, that we never manage to do anything special, that we’d only manage to get proper holidays in 25 years after we had a kid and it grew and left the house (yes I went that far). All he did was tell me to keep calm, that the only thing that mattered is that we were happy together, and that we’d get the holidays we wanted. He even asked me if I wanted to try other places, like Paris or even travel within our own country. My answer was “choose whatever you want, I don’t care anymore”. Lovely, eh?

What the hell makes me behave like this? Why the defeatism? Why the sulking? Why do I do this? Not only do I expect the worst, I make it even worse, like I have to make it worse.

Once I got home, my boyfriend’s presence alone was enough to make it stop. I was ok again, and didn’t think about it more than twice the whole night. Like magic.

Well this morning the lady from the agency called, we are having our holiday afterall, and cheaper than before. I am happy, and feel that extra energy you get when things are going well. Still have that little pessimist devil whispering at my ear “there will be a fuckup, there will be a fuckup” but I intend to bitchslap it as soon as I manage to get to the agency today to pay.

Smell the flowers woman, and stop this crap.

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