Since I am evidently in the mood for a bit of blog-posting, I thought I could take the opportunity to update those of you who might inexplicably give a damn on the current situation with regard to The Penguin.
I have, unsurprisingly, failed to Let Go and Move On, and in one of my recent and increasingly rare telephone conversations with my oh-so-busy daughter, I managed to get an OCD-driven word in edgeways, and enquire into the whereabouts of The Significant Chocolate Bar.
She laughingly reassured me that The Penguin was still safe in its plastic bag in her bedroom, and that of course her boyfriend wouldn’t have thrown it away. I asked if she was thinking of taking it with her, when they eventually move into the house they are in the ridiculously-drawn-out process of buying. She laughed again, (I’m beginning to notice that my daughter laughs at me quite a lot, and wonder whether I should read anything into it), and said that she thought her brother should have it in his new house, because he’d had it before and it seemed right that he should keep it.
I couldn’t help but think this was her subtle way of trying to get rid of this chocolatey piece of nonsense that she had been lumbered with, without causing offence. I suggested the possibility of breaking it into two parts so that they could each benefit from its protective qualities. This time she both laughed and snorted. I said “No, seriously….. you do know it is the Penguin of Protection, and that it will keep you safe and bring you good fortune, don’t you?” At this My Daughter of Laughter conceded that, come to think of it, since she’d had The Penguin in her bedroom her luck had changed. She had at long, long last got a Mortgage Offer so she really could go ahead with getting her own house, plus her one-term temporary teaching job had been extended for another year.
But even so, she didn’t think we should chop it up, as this might harm The Penguin’s special powers (by this point I knew she was just humouring her bonkers mother). And she really thought that her brother should have custody of it again, because, let’s face it, he needs it more than she does.
And she is right. My daughter has somehow grown into the sort of person who believes she controls her own destiny. In the psychology-speak, she has a “high internal locus of control“. She knows what she wants out of life, and she believes that she will be able to obtain it through her own efforts. She always has a Plan. And God help anyone or anything that comes between her and the execution of Her Plan. I think this is one of the reasons that she will be a much better and happier teacher than I ever was. She likes planning. She may get occasionally get a little pissed off if she doesn’t have enough time to plan things as properly as she would like, (not often though….she plans her use of time effectively too), but she is fundamentally pleasantly disposed towards the notion of planning.
Whereas I, and her brother, dislike planning with a passion. Well, actually, I do like to play planning, and will happily waste endless hours of my life drawing detailed plans for house extensions and new kitchen layouts that will never, ever come to pass. But that isn’t real planning. Real planning is what sensible and organised people do to ensure that they move smoothly and productively forward in their lives. They have their lists of tasks and their schedules, and they stick to them, whether they happen to feel like it or not, because that is the way that Things Get Done. And Things do indeed Get Done, and things get ticked off their lists, and they go to bed satisfied, and sleep the Sleep of the Progress-Maker.
My son does not plan. My son believes that, if he can keep his head in the sand long enough, everything difficult and unpleasant in his life will magically disappear, and when he comes up for air he will find that Life has somehow turned out how he wants it, with no effort on his part whatsoever, so long as he is lucky. Because obviously, Life is completely beyond his control, and he is an innocent victim in a world ruled by Chance, Fate and Other People. He suspects that The World (and all its neighbours) are out to get him. And if there is the remotest possibility that putting a Penguin on his door frame will ward off evil and enhance his chances of winning the lottery, then on his door frame The Penguin will go!
Well… it will if someone else bothers to put it there for him.
