Why do I always get excited about going home? I always have a terrible time when I'm there because I end up fighting with someone (someone of course meaning my mom). This time it was a fight about how I don’t value her time because I didn’t give her enough warning that she didn’t need to take me and my boyfriend home because his parents were going to drive us. Personally, I thought she would be thrilled.
Somehow, I always manage to forget about the negatives though. I always remember how much I love seeing my little brother and sister. And how good the apples right off the tree and raspberries straight off the plant taste. Honestly, raspberries lose flavor the longer they are off the stalk. Personally I think they are ruined the second they touch a container and that they should go directly from the branch to your mouth, but that’s another story.
Selective memory as it is formally known is a defense mechanism. If I remembered every little bad thing that had ever happened to me at home or at school, I would probably never go back. I mean the big bad things are bad enough (like when no one in grade school talked to me for like a month because I reminded a teacher about a homework assignment, which apparently no one else had done), but they are somehow overshadowed by big and little good things (like the laugh I had with a friend from gradeschool when she asked me, “do you remember when we didn’t talk to somebody for like a month because of this homework assignment we all forgot about and she did? Who was that anyway?”). Somehow the good times make the bad times all better.
Somehow, I always manage to forget about the negatives though. I always remember how much I love seeing my little brother and sister. And how good the apples right off the tree and raspberries straight off the plant taste. Honestly, raspberries lose flavor the longer they are off the stalk. Personally I think they are ruined the second they touch a container and that they should go directly from the branch to your mouth, but that’s another story.
Selective memory as it is formally known is a defense mechanism. If I remembered every little bad thing that had ever happened to me at home or at school, I would probably never go back. I mean the big bad things are bad enough (like when no one in grade school talked to me for like a month because I reminded a teacher about a homework assignment, which apparently no one else had done), but they are somehow overshadowed by big and little good things (like the laugh I had with a friend from gradeschool when she asked me, “do you remember when we didn’t talk to somebody for like a month because of this homework assignment we all forgot about and she did? Who was that anyway?”). Somehow the good times make the bad times all better.
No comments:
Post a Comment