One day my Mum returned from a trip and brought my brother and I new toys;
some random robot with lights in his eyes for me and a remote controlled excavator for my brother.
My brain had chosen to not remember all details of the scene but I recall the moment where she handed us the toys; she kept saying "please look after your toys this time !!! if anything breaks come see me immediately".
I left the scene to go enjoy y new toy with my 5 or so years old brain wondering what was she going to do should anything break. Replace it? Exchange? Fix?
Curiosity took over the excitement of getting a new toy. I started playing alongside my brother with my boggled mind.
Then suddenly, as if the gods had decided to get involved and enlighten my day, my brother who was busy trying to dig a hole in the gravel covered ground with his new toy when the arm of his truck broke (now that I think of it, it probably just unclipped or something). He looked sad - I secretly got excited.
I was rather sooner than expected going to find out what happens when you break your band new toy.
Here we were, like a procession carrying the broken toy to the veranda where my mum was sitting;
I was not directly concerned I just joined out of curiosity but my guts still had suggested I keep safe distance.
My brother showed his now two - three pieces toy to my Mum with those sad puppy eyes.
She gently took it from him, inspected the damages, put the evidences on the floor by her feet and requested that he brings the broom.
There I was watching, the tension rising and still with no idea of what was gonna happen.
Assessing what part of my robot I may have to break to get the same "reward".
The broom arrived and in an instant I saw my mum enter a brief moment of craze;
she flipped the broom and start bashing the truck on the floor angrily and destroying it further.
I panicked and ran far away with Gizmo (just named him now).
Twenty and odd years later , in the middle of what happens to be one of the toughest period of my professional life I am sitting in a veranda at some hotel and the scenes of that day came flashing back to my mind.
A few moments earlier, I was reflecting on the mess I was currently in and I realize that I have the very bad habit of wanting to make matters worse when I find myself in an uncomfortable situation.
For instance, as a teenager when I was running out of pocket money, I would use my last cents to take a taxi somewhere away from home and land myself somewhere with no means to get back.
Often in my life, when things don't go my way, I try to put myself in even deeper problems;
like some kind of hunger strike to rebel against the universe.
I am now wondering if there is a link between the excavator destruction episode and my hunger strikes.