Yo! I just had a mental showdown in which I completely failed at, because summer break is the oxygen to my metal. In other words (or words that were directly implied in the previous statement), my brain is rusty from disuse. Not that I didn’t regularly exercise it, it’s just that my memory seems to have gone haywire or my dad’s impressive short term memory skills is better. I would say both but the pride in my says to not admit to the latter.

Story time, with young (annoying, charming, and bratty, yet creative enough to start writing layered scripts and novels) me!

Now when I was six, not only was I oddly obsessed with the TV show version of Disney’s “Hercules” and a paranoid ghost hunter but I was also a smartass. Because I thought that I was infinitely better than everybody else. This meant that I was extremely sensitive to any fact that was NOT uttered by me, or being corrected. Especially by an adult. Here are many examples of a conversation that I might have or might NOT have had regarding my sensitivity to being corrected or ignored in my “massive intellect” (Haha, sucks to be you six-year-old me. I’m making fun of myself how much more meta can I get…):

Example #1: Ignored

Teacher: What is half of a diameter?

Me: *raises hand enthusiastically*

Teacher: *ignores me* Oh, what do you say “student that is not Aya”? (He didn’t actually say that, just pretend its a name there instead. I’m trying to be funny. Ironically.)

Example #2: Being corrected

Teacher: What is half of a diameter?

Me: *raises hand enthusiastically, because I’m so ready to be a smartass*

Teacher: Aya?

Me: Oh, a rectum!

Teacher: Um… it’s a radius.

Aya: *looks super disappointed and cross, while slowly turning into a wonderful shade of red because I realized what I just said*

(No joke, this actually happened. Seriously. I never really raised my hand in math until the end of the year.)

Those are two significant examples that may or MAY NOT have happened. But yeah. I thoroughly enjoyed correcting other people though. Mini-Sherlock in the making. (Until I veered off into more John Watson-like characteristics from age seven and onwards.) Now my smartassy-ness got washed out from my personality, but it’s like a curry stain that never ACTUALLY left. Meaning that I learned that people don’t like to be one-upped most of the time, but I still indulge sometimes. 😀

Back in present time now, I was expanding my memory palace. (Yes, I am a Sherlock Holmes fan. As in a fan of almost every adaptation and the Arthur Conan Doyle stories. *sigh*) Unfortunately, my brain was super rusty after disuse. Lo and behold my dad who was all up in my concentration by using his memory and I was one-upped. (I did get my revenge but… eh. Long story. >:D) This incident reminded me of how much of a brat I was and I am on my way to trying to fix that. (Not.)

😀

Signing off,

Aya